Once you have recorded all four tracks, the next and last step is mixing them into a standard stereo format. Since the idea of mixing down is to bring the four tracks down to two, you need another, two-track cassette recorder which will act as the mastering deck. Connect, connect…

Here comes the blame like a locomotive train through the phone lines. You always complain when I fail to sustain your peace of mind. But I’ve got news for you: it’s that I need you too, I really do, but more than our state can allow, because if we lean on each other long enough, we’ll both fall down. Now I’m going through withdrawal, you don’t understand how bad I want to call you. And pretend that this all was some elaborate ruse by my substitute. But I both dialed and hung up the phone, and in between, that voice was me, I heard it with my own two ears. Now I’m wishing that this was a nightmare and I’ll wake up with you near. There will be no plane or train to take either of us out of this space. And I don’t know about you, but you’re why I’m in this place in the first place. I know you always get upset when I throw "always" at your last mindset. I say I’ll stop, but I always forget. I always wanted us to grow old together, but not just yet.

Empty beer bottles with their labels ripped off so the contraption won’t credit the deposit. Scratches for no itches, and itches for no scratches, a video and no way to pause it. Forty-eight pages of newspaper taking up forty-eight square feet of floor. Stop banging on the door. It’s blocked by an open drawer. Thirty-five pens, but none of them work. Someone pour a soda for this total jerk. More than thirty-five days since this jerk’s worked. Someone score some jerky for this jerky clerk. Well, no, it’s not that bad at all, and with nothing left to do, he can watch all the others in their hundred-dollar shoes. The ones that have the jobs, but don’t have an inkling of what an inkling is, or what it might be thinking. They just know that if a star is twinkling, it’s because they’ve been drinking. Come on, come off it, what’s with all the distress? This gift of two billion seconds was delivered express. I am the lord of the empty beer bottles, I scatter them at will, or stack them in a pyramid, or simply smash them for the thrill. I collect the rounded sea glass that washes upon my shore, and gather it up, throw it out to sea, when I feel like having more. There’s a wiffleball under my mattress, and I have to confess, it’s a comfort to know at least I’m not a princess.

With no rhyme or reason, ruined the whole season. Completely irrational, wish he was in the National. Well, Edgar Martinez knocked in the winning run and hit something like .521. Makes me want to scream and howl, the way he murdered Wickman and he killed McDowell. I cried in my beer, I reached for my hanky after seeing what he did to my Yankees. Of course, when he went to Cleveland to proffer the proof, he couldn’t have hit pavement if he fell off a roof. Just goes to show, he’s not so smart-inez, he’s just a flash in the pan, that Edgar Martinez. When I was a kid sitting eating my Jell-o, there was a fellow called Martinez, first name Carmelo. And when I was older, sitting sipping the vino, I’d sit and watch a player by the name of Tino, who was no match for the wisdom of Denis, but would have nailed Tippy’s hanging curve all the way to Venice. But all four combined didn’t have the career-ies to match the stats of Edgar in that wild card series. Go home, Edgar, go home. And don’t show your face again until you’re hitting .210.

What was the name of the boy I saw you with yesterday? Is he just another toy for the girl who has everything? His eyes tell it all, you’ve got him just where you had me. Hopeful and bright and completely unable to see.

Gnihtyreve sah ohw lrig rht rof yot rehtona tsuj eh si. Yadretsey htiw uoy was I yob eht fo eman eht saw tahw?

Wallet full of ones and I’m rarin’ to hit the town. Buy a couple Little Debbies and a two-liter of Royal Crown. Head out to some hotspot smokin’ Basics with the bouncers, just outside the door. My wallet full of ones keeps bulging in my pocket and it makes me feel pretty secure. Wallet full of ones, it’s a wallet full of fun. Not enough to rent a tux, but plenty for a Copper Kitchen cheeseburger deluxe. The world is full of cool stuff, and I can do a ton when I’m struttin’ down the street with my wallet full of ones. I saw Judy on the Avenue but she couldn’t look me in the eye. Her brown eyes were fixed on that fat rectangle at my thigh. Well, she asked me out to coffee, but I said no just to keep her in suspense. Then I walked to Sam Goody, bought a new compact disc, and now I’m wondering where my money went. Wallet full of ones, it’s a deal that’s been done. My pants are back hanging the way they used to back when, there’s a lot of worse fates than a wallet that’s thin, and I’ll just put out the tip jar when my shift starts at ten. When I punch out at six you can be certain I’ll walk out with a wallet full of ones again.

Is it the lights gone out, or is it just the apocalypse? Is it the sun gone down, or is it just a solar eclipse? Did you walk out of my door, or did you walk out of my life? You won’t be out of my mind just because you’re out of my sight. The sun hides behind the moon, but it still can burn the eyes. Together just a moment, then they drift back to their skies. Run from the light, hide in the shadows that it makes. And as it drifts off to the west, my body heat it takes, and takes, and takes. She applies the leeches and he hopes for the cure. The treatment done, it’s much too late to know if it worked for sure. And as his eyelids flutter shut, he sees her leave the room. He wonders if he’ll never see her again if never comes too soon.

I could give it a name, I could give it a moniker, but it’s all the same to my harmonica.

LEEZA: So what’s wrong with that? AUDIENCE MEMBER #1: Well, who’s going to pay for it? (applause) I mean, you have to eat, you wanted him to have insurance. Uh, there are certain things that go to make up our way of life today, whether we like it or not. Uh, we have to obey laws, and that means we have to have a certain amount of cleanliness, we have to wear clothes… LEEZA: Well, now, are they not clean? AM#1: No, no, no, I’m not saying they specifically, I made that as a, as a, uh, things that… LEEZA: Just rules of society. Now, let’s get to this insurance question that she brings up again.…Sarah, are slackers losers? SARAH (panel expert): No, I think that’s a misconception. They’re also not necessarily just lazy. It has to do with doing things that maybe society does not recognize as valuable pursuits.… LEEZA: Sarah, are slackers losers?…Sarah, are slackers losers?…Slackers get a lot of stuff for free. CORRUPT PRO-ESTABLISHMENT FATHER #1: Richard could have health insurance if he signed up for school and took a full load. Now, I’ve even told him to go so far as to sign up for school, pay for it, take a full load, drop it, bring me the thing to send to the insurance company to prove that he’s in school, and he won’t even do that. RICHARD: Oh, you just busted yourself on national TV. LEEZA: We’ll let you get your chance at Dad next. We’ll also be meeting another dad who says that if slackers had actually faced a draft, they might think differently. And I have a list of things that parents will pay for, Sarah says maybe only the major medical, but you know what? They’re a lot of things on here, we’ll do the test when we come back, stay with us, we’ll be right back. RICHARD: Busted. CPF#1: I’m teaching him how to use the system and get by and live a life that’s in the real world, yes. (audience derision) AUDIENCE MEMBER #2: That’s different. That’s not using the system, that’s abusing the system.… LEEZA: Sarah, are slackers losers?…Sir, is your son a slacker? CORRUPT PRO-ESTABLISHMENT FATHER #2: Yes. Without a doubt. LEEZA: Now, you feel like, that, we can control the attitudes of these kids. How would you do that? CPF#2: Well, in our generation, there was the Vietnam War, there was a challenge, in our parents’ generation, there was a challenge, and I think this generation is lacking a common focus to see that life has certain challenges and that they have to commit to their society. LEEZA: But, now, you don’t want your son to have to face a war, or do you? CPF#2: No, not a war, but I think boot camp would be a really good idea. (applause) LEEZA: Good… (to SON) Do you feel that you have no social consciousness? SON: I have, I really don’t have any desire to go to a foreign country and meet people I don’t know and kill them. CPF#2: No, I was talking about a, a, a, a focus for the generation, whether it was the Depression, or World War Two, or something that people were facing as a society, or as a group. SON: That doesn’t mean going to a foreign country and killing people. LEEZA: But there are wars, I mean, clearly, there are wars all over the globe going on, now, I mean in our country, we’ve got our own internal wars…Sarah, are slackers losers?…Sarah, are slackers losers?… AUDIENCE MEMBER #3: I think that the generation, I’m part of what they say is Generation X. And you have to take personal responsibility for yourself, and these people aren’t doing it. (applause) You know, we don’t need a war, we don’t need anything, what you have to do is you have to look inside yourself and you have to—if they want to be creative, that’s fine, I’m not saying they can’t be creative. But you have to take personal responsibility for yourself, be creative if that’s what you want to do, work in a profession if that’s what you want to do, but don’t do it on your parents’ time. Do it on your own time. AUDIENCE MEMBER #4: I don’t think that, um, that our generation has abused Social Security. I think that the government has abused Social Security. (applause)

Ever walk the streets and wonder what people are thinking? Ever look at their paper cup to see what they’re drinking? Ever taste their coffee in attempt to understand that their state of mind is based on what they’re holding in their hand? Some people dump in seven Dominos, anything less and they’re comatose. But because their hot beverage has a taste so attractive, they finish theirs first and are the most hyperactive. Others would rather not be connected to that scene, instead contacting bean extract with a few drops of cream. They’re a little more grown up and they know that life’s not sweet, but they like to have a cutter to negotiate its heat. Then there’s the purists, drinking like they think they should, taking it jet black though it doesn’t taste as good. Either giving to a fault, after what they’ve suffered, or so used to sacrifice that they expect it from others. And then, of course, there’s the assorted riff-raff, who, though it looks like they have coffee, are drinking decaf. Which goes a long way down the road to explain why they’re wandering the town looking perpetually drained, but at least their lives aren’t filled with pathetic searches for public restrooms, enslavement to a diuretic. All this is not to mention specialty espresso drinks that completely control people’s ability to think to the point of derangement, so that they don’t even mind a twenty-cent concoction costing them $3.95. Even classism, the paper cups betray. Did they go to Dunkin’ Donuts or the Hot Shit Caffé? Would one say it’s with milk, while the other would say that ce que en le main est un café au lait? You never know what’s in that cup, you never know if it’s filled up, but a little checking in to what’s inside it lets you into someone’s soul, no matter how they try to hide it. Ever walk the streets and wonder what people are thinking? Ever look at their paper cup to see what they’re drinking? Ever taste their coffee in attempt to understand that their state of mind is based on what they’re holding in their hand?

This is a beer ad, and don’t you go and mistake it. It’s for guys like you who want to go out and make it with the chick at the bar two stools away from you. Let’s give her a little guitar rock and see what we can do. This is a beer ad, and nothing more than that. This is a beer ad, and it’s cool. Chicks dig dudes that listen to raunchy rock n’ roll. Brings out urges in them that they can’t control. So give her a couple beers and take her back to your pad, yeah, and thank you for contributing to our beer ad. Drink some beer. What are you, a queer?

Dog Leg, I can’t see you true. Every day I get a different angle on you. And I don’t want to sink another ball in the drink. Dog Leg, you’re not worth it, I guess I’m through. Dog Leg doesn’t let you walk away without getting in the last word and ruining your day. We’re going to have to let you go, is what Dog Leg will say, even though you were just about to quit anyway. Dog Leg has these bosses who she can’t interrupt. She wants to be me when she asks me to speak, but she’s them when she tells me to shut up. Dog Leg looks all right at first, but there’s a lot that you can’t see. And if you hit into her rough, then you’re history. And she can’t fire me, I already Q-U-I-T. I know she did it first, but that’s a technicality. Dog Leg I still win cause I’ll never have to see your face again.

Double-date Brad, didn’t want to make Rebecca feel had. Never even asked her up to his pad. Didn’t want to act like Fred, who was bad. He took it slow, Double-date Brad. When Brad first saw Rebecca he wanted to neck her, but he knew all that pressure was not likely to impress her. So he hatched up a match-up where they could mutually relate. Called Fred and Elaine and arranged a double-date. They went to the Bijou and I don’t deceive you when I tell you that Brad kept his hands on his Jujy Fruits. A couple seats down Fred laid the moves on Elaine, but Brad showed Rebecca he was above those games. On the fourth and fifth dates Brad got his dad to chaperone while Fred and Elaine stayed home talking dirty on the phone. Brad treated Rebecca with perfect behavior. From every sort of corruption he strove to save her. When he was finally sure that he had honored her honor, he decided it was time to let her know that he want her. So when he walked her to the step after that Sunday matinee, met her eyes, pulled her close, looking for more than amitée, Brad was aghast when she denied his pass. She froze, then she slapped him for show-ing such sass. I expected so much more from a friend, she said, If I wanted hanky panky, I could have gone to Fred. And at that she turned around and slammed the door shut on Brad, and he sulked back to the curb to get a ride home with Dad.

I was enjoying our conversation so I taped you on my machine. You were secure in my ad-miration, you were the woman in my dreams. But when I played back my recording, you sounded different than you did before. I noticed your peculiar wording. You seemed to have an accent, but I wasn’t sure. Then something bizarre happened, something crazy and perverse. I dropped my machine onto the floor and it started playing in reverse. At first it all seemed garbled and I was about to throw the tape away, but when I listened closer, I realized that the words were clear as day. An eerie cloud filled up my transom as splitting pain took over my head. In disbelief I sat and listened to a deep croaking voice that said, I have taken over your body, and of course I’ve stolen away your soul. I am evil and dark and satanic, but you’re too stupid to ever know. With each of your backtracked phrases, sensation rocked my spine. I went on a date with Satan, and I was hoping that she’d be mine.

I think I am where I was intended, and I’m pretty sure you’re not here, too. But jealousy was a deadbeat roommate, and I was jealous of everyone except me and you. Is it all right when things don’t work out as they might? I think I’ll sit and write you a letter, and maybe a song with jazzy chords just for you. I think I’ll tell you that I miss you, and that you’re a friend I can’t afford to lose. And it’s all right when things don’t work out as they might. It’s OK because they work out just the same.

I was an intern at Spin, I was the lowest form of life there is. I made coffees and copies for Bobby G., and sorted his mail and picked up his sushi. The only time I made a single red cent was when I cleaned out the basement. I spent an hour picking out a birthday card for Bob to give to his friend. He didn’t like the one I worked so hard to find and sent me back to the gift shop again. When I was working there, there was a hot redhead who gradually became Bob’s friend. Which meant he didn’t pay much attention to me as I trimmed him of his promo CDs.

VORION: I was sent to speak to you by the masters of the galactic vortex. For years, we’ve been monitoring your television and radio broadcasts. It was just such a broadcast signal that delivered me to you. How many of you listen to the radio, and how many of you saw me on television? Were you promised a SPECTACLE OF POWER? MC: Say yes! AUDIENCE: Yes! VORION: I am here. Are you here to witness a spectacle of power? AUDIENCE: Yes! DREW: Whoa…VORION: I will show you my power. I will share the secret. I will tell you how to unleash the energy that each and every one of you…(garbled)…the power of dreams. The power to dream the dream and make it happen. All the spectacle you see here, the power of the motor, the roar of the engine, the SMELL AND SOUND of excitement.…(garbled)…feel the power within yourself and listen to Vorion! You can reach your dreams, and don’t let anything stand in your way! I wish you the force of determination, the power to make your dreams come true .…(garbled)…I have come to salute you! Right now, this is the center of the universe. I have come here to demonstrate my power, and you will believe that YOU have the power to make your dreams come true! I could have been sent ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD to deliver my message. But my masters picked here AND NOW to deliver this message to the CHILDREN OF THE WORLD!

Let’s you and me walk off the face of the earth and peel away the blue sky curtain. Let’s cut the ribbons where the stars all hang, let’s go back in time before the big bang. Ride some smoke and fire, sing second thunder in the choir. Trade in all our cash, cause it won’t have no worth, once you and me walk off the face of the earth.

I’ve never seen New Haven Green at the sunrise. I’ve got a dream to let out a scream at the toll booth guy. I’ve been to a beach club called Heaven, they wouldn’t let me play volleyball. But they let me in, I didn’t question, not at all. No, not at all. There’s something cool about the words rack and pinion. They stay by each other’s sides, they’re never separate in anybody’s diction. They always counter each other, but that’s what makes them strong. And all their disagreement moves me right along, right along.

I went around the mountain. I got set adrift for sixteen days. When I got to the other side, I saw a ski lift winding down from the top, out to where I lay. I cried, and kept heading for Lincoln, wondering about the time I wasted, why is it being complacent doesn’t mean you’re not working, just means you’re not thinking? Finally I hopped on a bus. Sat with pictures in my wallet, thinking of us. And I remembered those days in the wind and the sleet and I realized how easy this whole thing could be.

Still miserable after all these hours, somebody please grant me superhuman powers to finish the worn-out years that I’ve started, to build my life’s work out of what you discarded, to run down the tracks, catch your train that’s departed, to remember the song in my head when I parted from you. Some song always reminds me of you. And if I don’t start pretending that I’m starting to care, I’ll start to believe I don’t want to be there with you, and I don’t know if that’s the truth. Just cleaned the barrel of my favorite revolver, just want you to see me as an involver, just want you to be able to depend on someone who is me but who isn’t a friend, someone whose hope flows on without end, who snaps when they fasten and breaks when they bend around you. I crack when I wrap around you. And if I don’t start pretending that I’m starting to care, I’ll start to believe I don’t want to be there with you, and I’m afraid that that’s the truth. Stupid, uprooted, and most of all polluted, tired of being the batteries not included and selling myself to some overlord master who lurks in the walls underneath the cracked plaster. The radio’s on and the beat rises faster, till a sudden explosion and my mind’s already past her for you, and unforeseen visions of you. And if I don’t start pretending that I’m starting to care, I’ll start to believe I don’t want to be there with you, and I wonder if I really do. I wonder if I ever knew.

We were both under the impression that we gave and got nothing back. Where these gifts were going, neither of us could say. But in the larger cosmic order, someone was being rewarded. We should have tracked him down to pry what we gave away. Sometimes I think you were perfect and I just threw you back because I’m happier when I am stretched on self-loathing’s lonesome rack. You made me full of life but when you woke me from the dead, you dulled my only knife, you made it lose its edge. So that when darkness fell, I could not defend, and depended on the strength of my marvelous girlfriend.

Mole Hill, I’ve been to your mole hill, where criticism gets spilled all day long. Sit still, I make you feel ill, now get behind some wheels, be gone. Mole Hill, how do you think I feel, I think I’ve had my fill of your fun. Mole Hill, I’m making mountains out of mole hills, and I think that now I’ll go be one.

I didn’t know what to say to her, I couldn’t find my pen. Before I could lay the blame on her, the pen resurfaced, she hid it on purpose, it’s all just so typical. And if things grind to a halt, I can always say that it never was my fault. I don’t know what I told her, but it must have been the wrong thing. And I should offer her my shoulder, but I’m wearing my new shirt, and salt stains it worst. It lays there in rings and leaves behind the hurtful things I didn’t know I said. I don’t know where I walked last night when she sent me on my way. Thinking we’d had a blow-out fight, when we never raised our voices or made each other’s choices, so that when she told me to get out, I stayed.

You stood behind the register as I walked through the door, you asked me if I needed some help, I said I wasn’t sure. I said I had a friend who just finished her paper and maybe she’d feel like celebrating later. But you could see in my eyes the depth of my affection and you said that you had a couple of suggestions. So you showed me red and white and you showed me champagne, and you showed me sparkling wine, which is basically the same. But you could read my expression of scared hesitation and you said, "Wait, son, I’ve got one more recommendation. Don’t buy her anything, don’t try to be so pleasant. You’ll scare her away with all your smiles and your presents. Just say congratulations and be on your way, and she’ll want you all the more, just like they say." Oh Lord, the door chimes rang in alarm as I walked out of the store, that bottle tucked under my arm. Never thinking it could ever cause such harm and that I’d turn her off when I turned on the charm. I wish I could recork it, replace the foil wrapping, and pretend this whole damn bottle thing never even happened. Oh why, of all things, did I have to ignore your words, why didn’t I back right out of your store?

I went and bought you a cue stick, monogrammed so you won’t lose it. In its own carrying case to be sure that it never ever breaks. Unless I play you, and you smash it over my head. You shouldn’t play billiards with an ex-girlfriend. You always used to beat me, I always said I let you win. There are different ways to beat me, you said, swung the stick, and stove my head in. I said I’d play you, I didn’t know what to expect at all. My head is aching after you scratched on the 8-ball. Swinging that cue stick like you were Zorro’s twin, sending me to the floor with a lance and a spin. Chalk in my eye and a bump on my head, I know we both thought it would never end. But it did and we both lost, and it’s like I always said. You shouldn’t play billiards with an ex-girlfriend.

I was cold and frightened, I was lost at sea. Oh please now lighthouse, swing and shine to me. Guide me and give me light so that I may see. Oh please now lighthouse, swing and shine to me. When I reach your shores, I know what I shall be. Oh please now lighthouse, swing and shine to me. You led me to an office up in a tower tall. To watch over your light, to shine your light for all.

Well I’m cookin’ up a party, if you miss it, you’ll be sorry, cause the guests have already arrived. That’s right, it’s Myrtle ‘95. Circulating the floor, everyone knows that he’s gonna score tonight. Myrtle ‘95. Loungin’ on the couch, he’s sunk into a cushion and he’ll never get out, but that’s fine, it’s Myrtle ‘95. Hans Schiller and My Fucking Mother are servin’ up the beer, but Poldi isn’t frightened cause the White Shadow is here. Sit tight, it’s Myrtle ‘95. And the Party Chef is takin’ tickets at the door. Organizing a session of round the horn. Till then he’ll work the tap and keep the keg alive. No rest for the weary, Myrtle ‘95. If it’s all too raucous and you need somewhere to hide, the sensitive guys with the guitars are playing softly on the side. But they have wine. After all, it’s Myrtle ‘95. And just when it seems like you’re gonna lose control, Corky McGlown hands you a fat bowl. This is the life, and it’s just tonight, it’s out of sight, we all feel all right—it’s Myrtle ‘95.

This here’s the story of Bobby Barnes, baddest trucker ever rolled south of Plantarnes. Drove a Mack rig back in seventy-six, off an eight-foot embankment out in the sticks. They found the truck but Bobby was gone. You can still see him on 95 through Plantarnes. He haunts the roads, I’ve heard them say. A lot of evil truckers get their revenge that way. But there’s something different about Bobby’s quest that separates him from all the rest. See, he’s a nice guy even though he’s dead, and he likes to have a good time like he always did. A ghostly shadow truck pulls up from behind, its flashing brights are enough to make you blind. Then suddenly you’re struck with flashing fear when you look into your rearview mirror. The rig heads straight through your bumper, and next you know, Bobby’s sitting right next to you, offering a bowl. You keep your eyes on the road but accept his gift. He lights it up and you take a hit. His buds are the best in all this world, the goldest of the goldest Montazuma gold. And once you’ve had your rager from his chrome and steel bong, there’s a sudden bright flash and Bobby Barnes is gone. So keep a sharp eye peeled for Bobby’s ride, a bright green cab, a sunrise painted on the side. Many a weary traveler’s received his gift, many a journey’s turned into a trip. Yeah, keep that sharp eye peeled for Bobby Barnes, next time you’re on 95 in the county of Plantarnes.

Ask not what you can do for your country: Ask what your country can do for YOU!