Matthew Gallaway

Death Culture at Sea "Fire Crimes" (Rock Songs)

Click through for the latest from Death Culture at Sea: YouTube or Vimeo.

"Fire Crimes"

Wait in line to for all your pages

And a list for leaving well

These are just the bars and cages

We are here to learn how to sell

You know I'm the one who lit the fire

I'm the one who made the call

Never thought we'd have to fake it

Never thought we'd have to end it all

There's a house we both could live in

On a street with every mall

Every room a different color

Every floor a different kind of wall

Now there's a boat that will be waiting

In the hull you'll find a chest

In the chest a book is written

In a code to give you what you missed

Some are here to change the password

In the game of buy and sell

Take a chance at stepping backward

Hoping hands are there to break the fall

In the case of who we spoke to

I don't want to share the plan

There's a gun that's pointing at you

Can you feel the sharking in their hands

Leave aside the first objection

Step behind the wrecking crane

Say the words you thought were missing

Take a knee and pray the we are sane

Secrets have a way of lasting

In a past you can't recall

In our minds thoughts are racing

We can see but never have it all

The Washington Heights Report (Morning Glories)

We were all heartbroken when the city tore down a house on our block, leaving a gap in what for more than 100 years had been an uninterrupted line.
Thankfully the unofficial "mayor" of our block, who has lived here for at least forty years, planted some morning glories on the fence in front of the vacant lot.
He's seen quite a few of the houses get torn down over the years. (There are several gaps across the street.)
But as the saying goes, nature abhors a vacuum, even in the city.
And with a little cultivation and guidance, the barren and ugly can be transformed into something lush and magical.

The Garden Project (Dusk)

Most nights when I get home from work, weather permitting, I gather everyone up and lead them outside for a walk around the garden.  
Zephyr has been a bit skittish ever since he and Dante spotted a stray cat and succumbed to "misplaced male aggression," a strange and disturbing condition in which a cat will take out his aggression on another nearby cat, even one he knows very well. 
These days, however, they mostly get along.  Elektra, who leads a more refined life, likes to spend time reading in the dimming light.  
Everyone likes to be outside, even if the uncertainty can be a bit overwhelming at times.   
Having finished her book, Elektra pondered the meaning of existence.   
After twenty minutes, the light was almost gone, and everyone was ready to head inside for the night. 

The Bryant Park Project (Begonias)

Today I read that the Republican candidate for mayor of New York City has accused the Democratic candidate of wanting to "divide the city by raising taxes." 
It seems like a laughably tired accusation, given that the city is already very divided, at least by class. Really, could it be more divided? I forget the exact statistic, but I want to say that something like 40 percent of New Yorkers are living at or near the poverty line? It made me wonder if a Republican candidate might have more success by saying, "everyone knows the wealthiest people in this city could afford to pay some taxes -- obviously they have more money than they know what to do with -- so we're going to hit them up." After all, there are legitimate Republican-friendly arguments to be made about, say, not squandering billions of dollars on the MTA and other traditional pork-barrel entities. Bottom line: the city needs to generate more money and to use it more effectively to give ALL of its citizens a better life, whether you want to define it in terms of safety, health, environment, housing, parks, jobs, education, etc.   It turns out that the Democratic candidate for mayor has also been "in bed" with some pretty big real-estate developers. You don't get to be mayor of New York without some serious funding from the business "community."   
This has been a post about the irrelevance of this mayoral race to the practical life of most New Yorkers.   

The Knitting Project (Fashion Week)

Here in New York City it's "fashion week," which for me doesn't mean a whole lot, except that I sometimes venture into the New York Times to read Cathy Horyn's gorgeous prose.  
Closer to home, Stephen's been knitting this summer, and he recently finished a hat. It's a bit on the large side, but it's very warm and the stiching is lovely.  Here's a picture of me laughing at the snow this winter. 

Morning of the Long Shadows (Washington Heights)

On first glance this morning, I thought we had arrived at the cool, dismal part of the fall. In fact it was more like a return to the oven.   
It's better than a hot day in July, though, because the shadows are longer. 
We raced to the corner, where we turned right in order to walk the five blocks to the new polling station, which is in an elementary school. The kids were getting ready for class, and I felt relieved not to be among them.  

The Garden Project (Ferns)

It's been a long summer, but the ferns are content.  
They are still lush and green, but starting to wilt, like someone slowly falling asleep.  The rocks are the mattress, on which they'll soon lie quiet under a blanket of snow.   

Death Culture at Sea "Slated for the Range"

After years of procrastinating, I finally bought a keyboard and drum software, which allows me to rock out a little harder (relatively speaking). Click through and enjoy the latest on YouTube or Vimeo. And TURN IT UP TO 50,000. 

Death Culture at Sea "Slated for the Range"

In the rush of the water

Our fingers were numb from the start

We ran away from the slaughter

But tripped on our way to the car

We waited for years in the castle

Watching the trees in the wind

Broken in half by a much crueler dream

We somehow lost sight of the sin

The door was cracked on a hot summer night

The sheet was covered in sweat

I can't remember what time we woke up

I only know it was red

Free wide open for a change

See my patience fall away

Hoping someone would find us just the same

Three times slated for the range

In the days that would follow 

We were chased by the rain

Our eyesight grew dull and then hollow

Our feet immune to the pain...

The Washington Heights Report (Saturday Morning)

All's quiet on the western...ridge of upper Manhattan, otherwise known as Washington Heights.  Everyone loves Saturday morning. 
As long as you don't have to work.  Or even if you do, maybe you can spend a few seconds letting the morning sun pass through you, illuminating your edges like a trembling, green leaf.  

The Bryant Park Project (Friday)

The perfect weather arrived on schedule. This is what heaven looks like, probably.  
Or maybe one of those new cities you sometimes see on other planets.  I'm not sure how everyone got here. 
It seems too perfect to have been accidental. (I know it was accidental.)  Let's pretend we're trees and enjoy these last few minutes of sun.