what's up with the band


Donde Voy

Companion piece to Donde Vas. I was looking through artist Samuel Barrera’s website the other day and came across this. He has lots and lots of fantastic artwork (fantasy is a key word, here), do go look for yourself! He was kind enough to give us permission to use Donde Vas for the album cover. (Yes, we had permission!!!)


Here’s the website, should you want to go and look for yourself:  http://samuelbarrera.com/

And here’s Donde Voy:





better off alone

(I stole this from Dave’s facebook:)

Still working on the Reunion Tinfoil album…..but mixed this classic unreleased Tinfoil song from the Tinfoil recording sessions in 1998….redid all the instruments besides Jim Covert’s drums….this was originally called Family Tree Part Two…I wrote this as a landscaper…mowing Jean Knoblow’s yard on Morrison Road across from Morrison Lake…we recorded many versions of it and never were happy…..this version features Krystal Harms on trumpet….. I am happy with this one….


Fall in Love Again

Just in – hot off the presses – a press release about Dave’s solo album, which, by the way, is awesome:


For Immediate Release:

Teacher Releases CD Based on Experiences Participating in BGSU Holocaust Study in Europe

This summer, Penta Career Center and Lourdes University teacher, Dave Harms participated in the Walking Witness: Civic Responsibility in the Shadow of the Holocaust Fulbright-Hays Group Project Abroad trip for educators. The study investigated Northwest Ohio’s living Holocaust survivor’s experiences. The participants traveled through Poland, Hungary, and Greece making stops in Aushwitcz-Birkenau, Gross Rosen, the Warsaw Ghetto, and Project Reise. During the trip, Dave Harms wrote the songs that would become Fall In Love With Me Again. “In order to mentally balance the intense and emotional studies of what happened during the Holocaust, I would write light songs about differences in culture or people and places we visited”, said Harms.

Dave Harms has been performing in Northwest Ohio for years as a founding member/ singer/ songwriter/ guitarist for alternative rockers Tinfoil. Over the years, Tinfoil has released music that could be categorized as punk, metal, alternative, and rock that maintain the Tinfoil sound. Even though Dave continues to be a member of Tinfoil, he is currently promoting his first solo album Fall In Love With Me Again.

“The Song Is Gone” is one of only two songs on the album written directly about the Holocaust. “We were studying in Przedborz, Poland where 75% of the population before the war was Jewish. Our guide explained that the people he grew up with, people he remembered, never came back. His father had hidden one of the Torahs from the Nazis and had it on display in the museum. It was really moving. Later we toured Birkenau and one of the exhibits was a collection of family photographs the victims left behind. A picture of three girls playing musical instruments caught my eye and these experiences blended into the song”, explained Harms.

Other songs highlight the differences in culture between Europe and America. “In Warsaw, I took a picture of graffiti that said “Moob.” Our guide explained that “moob” meant nothing in Polish and she believed it was ‘crazy talk.’ I couldn’t get the word out of my head as I walked around the city. I also couldn’t fit it into a song. Another Fulbright participant suggested using a type of Palindrome (words that are forwards and backwards). That is where the song idea for “Moob Boom” came from.”

“Rambling Soul” came out of a friendly competition between Fulbright participants. “As we traveled from Poland to Hungary in a bus, one of the other participants said I should write a traveling song. The entire song was written while bouncing on a bus through the Polish, Slovakian, Czech Republic, and Hungarian countryside.”

“Gyöngyi” was written in Pécs, Hungary. “I had been itching to play a guitar for weeks and found an artist coffeehouse style establishment that had a cheap acoustic

for patrons to play. When I started playing, I decided to write a new song. The place was relatively dead, but Gyöngyi was sitting at the bar alone. I wrote the entire song in that coffeehouse. Gyöngyi means pearl in Hungarian, but is difficult to say in American. It’s kind of a song about nothing…but maybe that is what makes it interesting.”

“Koloscian Paprika” was written in Kalocsa, Hungary which is famous for its paprika. “Paprika in the United States is usually sweet, but there is also spicy Hungarian paprika. The idea behind the song was to take the idea of both sweet and hot and apply it to a girl from Kalocsa. Koloscian paprika is an important ingredient in authentic Hungarian goulash”.

“Hollow” was written while Harms was on a walk in Krakow, Poland.. “One of the ways I processed what we learned every day was to take long walks alone. The song came to me as I was listening to the rhythm of my steps. The lyrics all came out during the walk and I recorded them into my phone as I was walking. The lyrics just flowed out as I was walking. Sometimes, the songs seem to find you instead of you writing them.”

“Blue Mascara” was written on the last night of the trip. “We were in Thessaloniki, Greece and I was on crutches because I had sprained my leg in Volos. I wrote the song at a restaurant on the water. I couldn’t move very well and I was seated at the end of a long table with the bus driver who only spoke Greek. Our Greek guide had blue mascara on that really highlighted her eyes. The bus driver, through an interpreter, suggested that I should write a song about the dinner. The song about the end of the journey.”

“Na Zdrwowie Piwo” was written on the last night we were in Krakow, Poland. “We spent two weeks in Poland studying and really felt comfortable there. The sayings are Polish and were taught to us by our guide. The song was written as a tribute to Polish culture. I was able to borrow a guitar and write this song in the hotel room before we started our journey to Hungary.”

One of the more unique songs on the album is a song called “Robobootie” which came about after Harms saw a Polish Men Working sign (Roboty). “For some reason, I thought it said Robobootie. I was looking inside a cemetery trying to get in. The gate was locked and the sign was in the distance. Robobootie struck me as very odd, and I decided to try my hand at writing a dance number. Later, we found out that I had misread the sign….but the name stuck. Knowing the sign meant Men at Work…I built work the dance floor into the song. I did a dance version on the bus in Poland, but when I played actual instruments, it took its current form.”

“The title track, “Fall In Love With Me Again”, came to me on the bus in Greece. When I got home, I almost scrapped the song because it only had two parts that were very similar. I usually have lots of chord changes and sections. I decided to finish it and started adding the different musical instruments. The arrangement really made this song shine”, said Harms.

The last track on the album is an instrumental called “White Rain”. “We were in Thessaloniki, Greece interviewing a holocaust survivor who had lived through Auschwitz. He explained that the Auschwitz memorial site we had visited was not representative of what he remembered from Auschwitz. He said when the camp was in operation there was no grass…only mud. He said you could never see the sky. From the sky, white rain was always falling. The white rain was the ashes from the crematoriums. I was asked to create a television show theme to play during the introduction that had a sad theme. When I completed the song and listened back to it, the quote about the white rain came to mind and it really captures the sadness and the feeling of flying.”

Currently, Harms is mixing out a Tinfoil reunion album called Donde Vas that features the original three members: Dave Harms, Dave Smith, and Cher Bibler. “The tracks are all completed. We are spending some extra time mixing and mastering it.” In addition, there are also more songs from Harms’ Europe trip. “When you do an album yourself, it is easy to keep working on all the parts forever. I wanted to have a deadline for “Fall In Love With Me Again”. Because of the deadline, I limited the songs to 11. I wrote 43 songs in Europe. The rest of them will be put in future projects.”

Besides music, Harms used experiences on the trip to design a curriculum unit for students. The unit introduces students to a framework investigating genocide applied to the holocaust, and then has students research and use the framework to explain other genocides. The unit was presented in September 29, 2014 at the Ohio Council of Social Studies State conference and October 10, 2014 at the Ohio Department of Education Social Studies Regional Leaders meeting.

The song is gone

Dave’s new video:

He also has a new website, and here’s where it is:


Man of my dreams – variations on a theme

This is an old post, salvaged from the old Tinfoil site. Since then we have rerecorded Man of My Dreams, and I think it’s going to be on Donde Vas. I will tell you for sure when there’s an official album out. I have it in the rough mixes, so hey, it’s a contender. This is really really early, the experimental days of the band, not that we weren’t experimental later, but in the beginning we had all this raw creativity coming out our pores, in a right in your face way. And we bravely went in wherever we could get jobs and played what we wanted to play. Man of My Dreams made its public debut at a rough looking biker type bar. I remember looking out at the crowd and (hey, they weren’t booing, or throwing anything) thinking how surreal it was. It’s not the type of thing anyone can dance to, unless it would be a strange Twin Peaksy kind of dance. I’m sure Tiffin, Ohio didn’t know what hit them. But, hey, you do what you have to do.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Lately I have been sorting through poetry, getting it all in one place and pulling out the better stuff so it’s easier to find. My goal is to be all organized. During this process I found this small piece of paper with a little poem on it, which I glanced at and said, That’s Man of My Dreams, then looked at it again and said, but wait a minute. This isn’t the same. It’s not a bad poem, either. At least I like it. So naturally I wanted to share. Here’s the original (it didn’t have a name):

man of my dreams (original)

There’s a dark hole on the side of this town
But I can’t get there without you
You’re the one who knows the words to this song
I was just your shadow the night we went there
You told me not to be afraid
You laughed at the look on my face
You said Don’t look now but your
upbringing is showing
You said Honey it’s about
time you broke out of your shell
You said Men like me eat little
girls like you for breakfast
and we don’t even chew

Here is the Tinfoil version. It’s real early Tinfoil, with Dave Smith. I remember he had a real cool, spare drum part, like an alternative little drummer boy. Guitar Dave was just playing all this weird funky stuff. I don’t know which album it’s on. The first one? We used to play it out live all the time.
man of my dreams

There’s a dark hole in the side of this town
but I can’t find it without you.
I was there with you one night;
you told me not to be afraid.
You laughed at the look on my face;
you said, “Don’t look now but
your upbringing is showing.”
You said, “You don’t really want to be here anyways.”
I didn’t know what to say,
I just looked around.
I stayed behind your shoulder
and watched from behind you;
that’s what a brave soul I am.
You just laughed.
To tell the truth I’m getting tired of people
laughing at me all the time.
Real tired.

There’s a dark hole in my soul and
it felt perfectly at home there.
It said, “Bring me a beer.
A whiskey sour, a margarita.
Bring me a roomful of burly men.
Bring me a taste of the cold night air.
Bring me a sweating table,
bring me a salty napkin.”
I try never to listen to my soul;
it lies.

Since you went away, I’ve walked
up and down these Mary Poppins streets,
looking for an alley with a
secret; looking for an empty store
with a room in the back
where a man sits by the telephone
and a woman with gold pieces on her dress
looks up at the sky and says,
“There’s a lot of stars out there tonight.
Get the ladder, honey,
we’re going after them.”

People say I’m better off without you,
that I don’t want to know about that side of the world.
They don’t know I’m still looking.
They don’t know about those little evening
walks with the dog when
she and I go downtown and stand under
the streetlight, soak up a little of its glow,
look for men who look like you,
check the backstreets for the door
you took me through.
They think I’m at a PTA meeting, I guess,
drinking iced tea with the girls,
talking about our husbands,
casting our eyes over the new principal,
blushing maybe.
Maybe not.

Once I had a dream about you.
There was something wrong with you in it.
Perhaps I’m beginning to forget things about you.
Was it something about the way you talked?
But it was almost you,
almost the man who spent his nights
thinking of ways to bring me down.
Enough to make me feel at home,
enough to make me remember the way
it used to feel when you pulled me close.
I never got the joke;
you must’ve been laughing all the way to the bank.
But it’s ok, I’d rather remember you as a hero.
The man of my dreams,
my Mr Darcy,
my Captain Blood.
Rest in peace, man of my dreams.

And, because I’m such a thrifty lass, and don’t want any poem pieces to go to waste, here’s what I did with the last line.

Little girls for breakfast

You said Men like me eat little girls like
you for breakfast every morning with
milk and sugar on them
I said I thought you wanted a
different kind of life

You looked behind the chair for the cat
Little girls are too chewy to put much
sugar on
I said I never saw the sky look so black
as it did last night when the stars
came out they were so clear they looked much closer
You said When you paint your
lungs with the color of
your soul no one can hear
you breathe
I said So?
You said I walked down to the
river with the dog and watched the
sunlight on the water the river
was up and the water was moving fast
I said I wasn’t hungry just then
The cat came out from under the
chair and stretched and looked around
the cat said I don’t
want to sound presumptuous but
there’s no place to put my
The chair yawned into its arm
You turned on the tv and watched
for a moment you said Men
like me eat tv’s like you
for breakfast fried with
I said You’re just jealous because
you’re always wrong
I said I have the body of a
14 year old
The man on tv looked at us
with disdain
The cat shrugged and licked its back
You said You’re missing the
point totally
little girls are a dime a dozen
You said Just try to prove me
wrong on this one honey
I said I am the apple of your eye
I am the powder on your nose
I am the wink in your potatoes
The man on tv is wearing a
plaid suit he is very dapper
he says to a woman on stage
we mustn’t get personally involved
I am thinking of the time you
tied my finger to the steering
wheel I look up at the ceiling
The ceiling looks away, unable
to meet my gaze
You pace back and forth wringing
your heart
You say What we have here
is a little piece of paradise
The man on tv snorts with disgust
he reaches out his hand to turn us off

One tiny step

One night, late, I was sitting in a car with my friend Geoff, who is a writer, on our way back from something, I have no idea what. All I remember is this conversation, and that we were sitting outside his house, or my house, with the car running, till we ran out of words, or at least came to a logical stopping place. We were talking about the pressure to be normal. How the world pushes you to conform and something inside of you wants to go along with it, but something else is saying No!!! I don’t want to lose what’s me!!! It gets to be a constant battle. We are both writers, artists, creative people, and yeah, we knew the odds were against us and hardly anyone believed in us, and that maybe we weren’t as talented as we thought we were (how do you ever know??), but that it has to be better to spend your life trying to achieve what you want to achieve, even if you fail, that the failure and a life lived in the struggle has to be better than the life that you would have if you don’t try at all.

And we talked about the line that you walk, as a creative person, between sanity and insanity. How close you are to stepping off sanity into that great unknown. All the time. The temptation is always there. It’s as if you’re in a little corridor between the two worlds and you can look through windows, through open doors at one world or the other, but you aren’t really a part of either world.
I think that Geoff keeps his demons hidden way deeper than I do. I think mine are sitting on my head for all the world to see, and if the world doesn’t happen to notice them, I point and clear my throat and jump up and down until the world looks up and sees them. I am not a sufferer in silence. Geoff is way more private. Sometimes I think I am poking at him with a stick, just to get him to react. I have no idea how we’ve managed to stay friends.

We kind of nudge along, pushing boundaries, making little baby steps. Trying to understand emotions, extremes. You have to experience it to understand it, you have to throw yourself into love or hatred, right? You have to feel more than normal people. Yeah, so every now and then your head comes up out of the water and you look around and realize how far from the shore you’re getting and you wonder if it’s safe to be swimming that far out, and you look at the people on the beach on their blankets and beach towels, with their umbrellas and sun tan oil and big hats and sunglasses, and you know that if you were on the beach, you’d be staring out at the water, you’d never fit in with them, you can sit and make conversation with normal people for a while, but you always come to a turning point where you’re either pretending to be something you’re not and jollying them along, or you say that awkward thing that makes them realize how different you are, that makes them feel uncomfortable, makes them avoid you in future. You don’t belong on the beach. There is nowhere for you but here, in the too deep water. Unless it’s out there, in the even deeper water.

One little step doesn’t feel horrible. One little step doesn’t make you feel so different. But you put together all those tiny choices, all those little steps that you make for some reason and other people don’t.

I’ve written 3 songs that have come out of conversations with Geoff, this is the first one. Our conversation set me off and a song grew. Sometimes I marvel at the guys in the band, I would bring the most bizarre songs in and they wouldn’t blink. Just get on with the business of taking my limp little melodies and making real songs out of them. I don’t remember if I wrote the music for this. I can’t play an F# chord, so I would have had to have written it on the bass (my world opened up when I started writing songs on the bass, no limitations of chords I can’t play!!!) or I came in with just the lyrics. I can’t imagine the song without Dave’s slide guitar tags, but it must’ve existed before he thought that up. Amazing the things you remember like they happened a minute ago, and the things that you don’t. I loved the way this song came out, and I loved singing it, and we played it a lot, for a long time, till so many new songs came along that it got pushed to the side.

Note: I can’t seem to find the lyrics to this, so I pieced it together from an old set list, and the recording. One line doesn’t seem quite right, probably I made a mistake in the recording, but I don’t remember how it’s supposed to be, so we’ll go with this. It’s close enough.


One Tiny Step

It’s not illegal, it’s not immoral
It’s just one tiny step toward madness
One step for mankind, one step for inhumankind
One step beyond the realm of sanity

I’ve got the kind of heart to hold it all
I’ve got the soul to wrap around it
I’m not afraid of never coming back
It’s just one tiny step towards madness

It’s not so horrid, it’s not degrading
Just one small step beyond respectability
It’s not imprudent, it’s not disgusting
Just one touch more than common decency

I’ve got the kind of heart to hold it all
I’ve got the soul to wrap around it
I’m not afraid of never coming back
It’s just one tiny step towards madness

It’s not forbidden, it’s not unhealthy
Just one small step away from normalcy
It’s not illegal, it’s not immoral
Just one tiny step away from madness

I’ve got the kind of heart to hold it all
I’ve got the soul to wrap around it
I’m not afraid of never coming back
It’s just one tiny step towards madness
I’ve got the kind of heart to hold it all
I’ve got the soul to wrap around it
I’m not afraid of never coming back
It’s just one tiny step towards madness


scan0082I think this is the proper line up for the band when we wrote One Tiny Step. Standing from left to right, Jim Covert (drums), Dave Harms (guitar), me (star of band – ha ha ha). Lying down is Terry Wright who also played guitar.

Oops! Dave insists Jim Cook was in the band because he specifically remembers Jim bitching about his slide guitar part. I’m not sure about this! but I’ll include that photo, too:


Would you hire this band? Tell the truth, now!

Back row: Dave Harms, Terry Wright, Jim Covert

Front: Me, Jim Cook

About Tinfoil

Tony Romanov wrote this to introduce the reunion album. Woo hoo :


Fleetwood Mac, Sonic Youth, Tinfoil. All of them employed a male and female singer. All of them had great lyrics. All of them had a killer guitar player. Only two of the three have millions of fans. Not every band becomes superstars. Some bands are loved by just a handful of people, and these bands tend to be very loved. That’s Tinfoil. I’ve never met a group so talented, yet so humble. I maintain that it’s only a lack of promotion and national distribution that kept them from stardom. I first encountered Tinfoil’s music back in the late 90s, when I was writing for Jam Rag, a Detroit music magazine. Their albums Plastic Lips and Family Tree stayed on the top of my stack of local releases for months. Plastic Lips is their “White Album”. A double length release of varying styles, experimental tracks, and above all, great songs. It’s been said that the lo-fi sound hurts it, but I don’t think a digital 48 track console would serve these songs. Nirvana’s Bleach album wouldn’t sound good produced by Andy Wallace either. The thing about Tinfoil that always impressed me is that whether their live audience is 5 people or 500, they always play their hearts out. Every gig is a big one to them. There’s nothing nonchalant about their live performances. They come to rock you, even if there’s only a half a dozen of you. This quality is shared by groups like Sublime, Mother Love Bone and a few other groups that had small but loyal followings. Luckily for us, nobody in Tinfoil OD’d on heroin. Maybe they’d be even more loved then, but I’d rather they still be here to keep making new music and bringing it to my backyard.

Early Tinfoil

early tinfoil


Here’s a photo where we actually all look good at the same time. This is the early days, before we developed that defiant attitude, you get so sick of people bitching at you about your music that you build a wall around you a mile or so thick and stick your chin up with that fuck you look on your face. Take it or leave it, folks, cause this is what you get. This photo, however, is from those early innocent months, before we knew what the hell we were getting into.

Everyone said we couldn’t do it, that we would never be a success, and I guess we weren’t, in one sense of the word, we never got famous or anything, we never even got to the break even point with the music (money-wise). There were always people who appreciated us, and there still are. We made some really great music. I guess it just depends on how you look at it, what you want out of life.

Dave Harms, looking off into the distance. Dave Smith, pointing at the camera. And me, hoping I wasn’t going to look fat or ugly or anything. I’ve never been comfortable in front of cameras.

It’s a good picture.



Usual Wonderland

Usual Wonderland

The story of a song that inspired a poem which became a song again, but a different one this time!

We were painting a few weeks back – I was stuck doing woodwork – and listening to music. You know how it is when you’re busy like that with music on, some songs you intensely hear every word and others fly by without you hearing any of them. For some reason. I am always on the lookout for interesting things to write poetry about and my mind started to wander during Panic Switch by Silversun Pickups to what I would write about if I wrote about a Panic Switch, which was nothing like theirs. I managed to write my poem the next morning and was pretty happy with it. I read it at our local open mic night the next Wednesday and impressed at least one person. Which is pretty good, for poetry. You know how poetry is, you look up from reading out at a sea of glazed eyes, mouths slack, little drool trails down the chins…however, one person actually remarked to me that she liked my Panic Switch and that you never can tell what goes on inside the heads of mild mannered looking quiet people (yes, that’s supposed to mean me).

Here is the poem, Panic Switch, inspired by, but not in any way copied from Silversun Pickups:
Panic Switch
I am quite intense, my dear,
it’s easy to be afraid.
Let me walk you through the
parameters, let me introduce
you to the fear. Here is a
safe room where you can take
refuge, it’s quite legal –
I have provided it for you.
Look, there is an escape door out
the back. You will enter the
street from there, so make sure
to calm yourself. You will be
catapulted back to normalcy –
make sure it’s what you want,
you won’t be invited back.
(I don’t take rejection well.)
You will have to step out into
the world with a smile on
your face because that is what
the world expects and we
like to provide what the
world wants, don’t we?
We don’t like to stand out.
That is why my space is
far removed, protected.
Here is the switch you can turn
if it gets to be too much, if you
want to slow it down.
It will alert me. It will send
sedatives pulsing through my veins.
It will give you time to think.
You can reconsider. No other
relationship offers a panic
switch. It is unique with me.
One of the perks. One of the
reasons you can feel safe.
I will take your heart, your
soul and check them behind the
desk – don’t worry – I’ll keep them
safe. I will take your hesitation,
your doubt, and pack them
away. Only you can decide
if you want them back.
Only you can decide how far to go.

So, a week or so later, I was in Ohio spending some time with Dave and making a list of stuff we could do in the studio, and he said, “You don’t have any new songs, do you?” and I said, “Well, I have a poem that I think could make a good one,” and out came Panic Switch and I read it to him and he was slightly confused due to its totally unsonglike shape and flow but he was game for anything (or polite, I’m never sure which it is) and I said, “No, I can actually change this into a song!” which I did the next morning while he was at work. Lifted lines that would work and rewrote others, dropped the second part of the poem cause there wasn’t room for it, wrote a chorus and then figured out a tune for it. I was trying to think towards Placebo but instead ended up in Alice Cooper/Marilyn Manson territory, I guess. These things just seem to happen somehow. When you write songs, the songs take over and tell you what they want to do.

Since I am a crappy guitar player and only know about 6 chords (honest, just listen sometime), I wrote this with a bass so it could utilize more notes than just the 6. Thus ending up with a song I can’t take out by myself and perform – oops! – but I wasn’t thinking about that, then.

I played it for Kristi, Dave’s wife and said “What do you think?” and she said, “Um. Ok. I guess.” Which I took as encouragement somehow. Hey I live happily out here in Delusionland, you know. I don’t know if Dave was any more impressed when I first played it for him (playing bass notes badly on an acoustic guitar, mind) but we went into the studio and worked it out, and either the song got better, or I was right all along. I was on bass and vocals and he was on drums. It got a little louder and more powerful every time we went through it. At some point, he pushed the record button.

The finished version ends up with him on drums, bass (mine sucked, of course), guitar, oh, every track except vocals, basically. It must be nice to be a one man band, there. Good thing I can sing, I guess, or I would be totally off the recording.

When I’ve tried to read the poem as a poem again, I have a lot of trouble not singing it. Trying to picture the concept again as just words.

Anyhow, the song lyrics are here and I will try to get the song to magically appear soonish. I promise:
Usual Wonderland
I am quite intense, my dear,
it’s easy to be afraid.
Let me walk you through the parameters,
I’ll introduce you to the fear.
Here is a safe room where you can take refuge –
it’s quite legal – I have provided it for you.
Look around, you’ll find it’s quite comfortable,
I have predicted all your needs.

cho: I want you to understand,
it’s not your usual wonderland.
It’s not the love that you dream about.
It sucks you in and you can’t get out.

You can escape out the back,
you have to calm yourself if you do it.
You’ll be dumped back into normalcy,
make sure it’s what you want.
You won’t be invited back, my dear, because
I don’t take rejection well.
This is your only chance with me.
This is my heaven and this is my hell.

Here is the switch that you can pull
if you want to slow it down.
It will alert me, it will send sedatives
pulsing through my veins.
It will give you time to think,
you can pause and reconsider.
You will decide if you want it back,
you will decide how far to go.

(this was written 3 or 4 years ago, whenever Usual Wonderland was new…..)