A short film about personal alienation within the matrix of city life

Park Borchert plays blues in the intro of his show "Sweet & Sour Park"

"Too Late" is a song I wrote during one of my darker periods (http://www.littledog.com/toolate.html). I was living alone in Williamsburg, in a loft that had neither heat or air conditioning. For some reason, fate had sent me there, like Napoleon to Elba. This is a song about a young woman, whom I met with at a deli on 23rd street, where I tried to apologize to her. She had told me for years that "I will always be there for you" and "I will (and have) always only been in love with you" and most ironically, "my love for you is unconditional". There came a time when I actually did need her to be there for me, and she was not. This was a person who always talked about other people having (or not having) character and being true to their word, like most of us talk about customer service. I guess people are there for you as long as they need you, but the minute they find someone to replace you, they don't have to be there anymore or even answer the phone. So this song is about the meeting with this girl and not knowing that she had already "moved on". At this point she had a new boyfriend. And there I was, sitting there thinking that this whole disruption in our lives could be emeliorated by my words and the $10,000 ring in my pocket. So I did the whole "I'm really sorry" thing, and all I got was an ice cold bottle of "you've really got to move on with your life" and "you take care of yourself, Park". Boy, when you find out what really is going on, you feel so stupid. And when I feel stupid, I sing. Too Late words and music by Park Borchert I think about it all the time now what I did to let you down I shoulda' maybe thought twice about it before I went and let you down You stare at me, your eyes so empty while I try to reconcile Your hair dyed black like an Italian widow as if Death removed your smile (chorus) I changed my life for you, but its too late I learned to be cool, but its too late I've broken all your rules, but it's too late for me and you and me and you anymore You told me I need self evaluation then you run uptown every night I came back to show you truths I discovered You wouldn't let me in your sight You gave head to all your law school buddies Slept with some waiter from a bar you let your life get so stupid ugly thought you were moving on so far (chorus) I changed my life for you, but its too late I learned to be cool, but its too late I've broken all your rules, now it's too late for me and you and me and you anymore I think about it all the time now what I did to let you down I shoulda' maybe thought twice about it before I went and let you down alone in some loft across the river I watch the skyline in the night I know you're out there with your young lover Convince yourself that this one's right (chorus) I changed my life for you, but its too late I learned to be cool, but its too late I've broken all your rules, now it's too lat

Gassy Child

"Too Late" is a song I wrote during one of my darker periods (http://www.littledog.com/toolate.html). I was living alone in Williamsburg, in a loft that had neither heat or air conditioning. For some reason, fate had sent me there, like Napoleon to Elba. This is a song about a young woman, whom I met with at a deli on 23rd street, where I tried to apologize to her. She had told me for years that "I will always be there for you" and "I will (and have) always only been in love with you" and most ironically, "my love for you is unconditional". There came a time when I actually did need her to be there for me, and she was not. This was a person who always talked about other people having (or not having) character and being true to their word, like most of us talk about customer service. I guess people are there for you as long as they need you, but the minute they find someone to replace you, they don't have to be there anymore or even answer the phone. So this song is about the meeting with this girl and not knowing that she had already "moved on". At this point she had a new boyfriend. And there I was, sitting there thinking that this whole disruption in our lives could be emeliorated by my words and the $10,000 ring in my pocket. So I did the whole "I'm really sorry" thing, and all I got was an ice cold bottle of "you've really got to move on with your life" and "you take care of yourself, Park". Boy, when you find out what really is going on, you feel so stupid. And when I feel stupid, I sing. Too Late words and music by Park Borchert I think about it all the time now what I did to let you down I shoulda' maybe thought twice about it before I went and let you down You stare at me, your eyes so empty while I try to reconcile Your hair dyed black like an Italian widow as if Death removed your smile (chorus) I changed my life for you, but its too late I learned to be cool, but its too late I've broken all your rules, but it's too late for me and you and me and you anymore You told me I need self evaluation then you run uptown every night I came back to show you truths I discovered You wouldn't let me in your sight You gave head to all your law school buddies Slept with some waiter from a bar you let your life get so stupid ugly thought you were moving on so far (chorus) I changed my life for you, but its too late I learned to be cool, but its too late I've broken all your rules, now it's too late for me and you and me and you anymore I think about it all the time now what I did to let you down I shoulda' maybe thought twice about it before I went and let you down alone in some loft across the river I watch the skyline in the night I know you're out there with your young lover Convince yourself that this one's right (chorus) I changed my life for you, but its too late I learned to be cool, but its too late I've broken all your rules, now it's too lat

Park Borchert performs from his show "Sweet & Sour Park" a section about his parents and their life in Wisconsin.

The "Suicide Song" is not about suicide. It is about love. More specifically, it is about the first second of consciousness when you wake up and someone has broken your heart. But you forgot about it while you were asleep and then when you wake and then after the immediate recognition that your heart is devastated, you realize you would rather be asleep or just not exist at all. Although, technically, it is a waltz. I remember when I wrote this song, a well meaning friend pulled me aside and said, "If you ever need to talk, I'm here for you, but honestly, suicide is never the answer." It was flattering, I guess, that the song was either that believable or impactful. Perhaps, I just seemed that unhinged. Well, unhinged or not, this is one of my favorite songs. In my mind it is played by a string quartet. I remember playing the Suicide Song for a young woman I was dating and when I got to the "Would you notice I was gone" part, she nodded her head ever so slightly as if to say "I will always be there for you". Not long after, she said she had to get on with her life and then disappeared without a trace, forever. This was unfortunate, because like the Grinch, my heart had grown 3 times its size, but when I can down Mt. Crumpet to return the Christmas gifts to all the Who's down in Whoville, the tall and the small, they were waiting for me with automatic weapons and not with portions of delicious roast beast. I think you get my metaphor. And that my friends, will make you feel real stupid, especially after you just sold all you cd's to get enough money to buy her lunch on a rainy day. And as I've said before, when I feel stupid, I sing. ...Read the lyrics at http://www.littledog.com/suicide.html

"I Set Myself On Fire" is a song I wrote while I was still living on Cornelia Street in the West Village of New York City (read the lyrics...www.littledog.com/fire.html/) Right after graduate school, I was working for IBM. The commute and salary were such that, after my travels from Manhattan to Yorktown, NY (via subway, train and then cab from the Croton on the Hudson Station) my net income was $470 per week and that's if I didn't eat. At that time, I was living with a girl, who was attending St. John's University Law School. Her family was rather wealthy and lived in Syosset, NY. I never asked her for any rent or expense money, because I never felt it fair, as she would ocassionally stay at her parents house during the week and then stay with me the rest of the week and on the weekend. As my financial situation worsened, my friends would privately berate me for not asking this young woman to chip in for living expenses. They vilified her and this in turn added to my frustration. (She once told me that people who love each other never fight about money. I don't remember my parents ever fighting about anything else. So, I guess that is the axiom of the wealthy). In 1997 I began work on a documentary film (http://www.littledog.com/webvideo/index_video.html) with friends of mine who were paying me what seemed enough money to help me out my financial morass. The production assistant inundated me with books and documents, which needed to be scanned in (or videotape... I wasn't sure exactly how to do it). So, I spent a lot of time setting up tables and wood planks, trying to shoot the pictures without ruining the books and also keeping the pictures from producing morie patterns on the video. I spent way too much time working on and worrying about this film, instead of spending that time with the young woman in my life. Anyway, one Friday night at about 11:30, when I was half asleep after a long week of going to IBM during the day and working on the documentary at night, the phone rang and it was the young woman calling from her parents home in Syosset. After some small talk she asked me if I had been seeing anyone else. I explained that I was frustrated and working day and night, so I could make some extra money with this film, because I was broke after working a 40 hour week at IBM. She sheepishly told me that she thought that I was seeing someone else, so she slept with one of the guys from her law school the night before. Well, I thought I was gonna throw up. I thought I was going to cry and never stop. I thought that it was my fault and I didn't deserve anyone this wonderful to love me, so of course she would leave me for someone else. But part of me was so angry that I wanted to never see her again. The other part of me wanted to be with her every moment for the rest of my life. And ever after that, I had this great big hole in my heart, which I tried to cover up by being funny and wearing baggy shirts. I just felt so stupid, and when

Me doing Standup at Carolines and Killing. a mélange of "confessional autobiographical monologues that plumb life's experiences for all their irony, absurdity, and edgy intensity." Mr. Borchert, who is an accomplished blues guitarist, segues through his various accounts with tasty guitar solos which in itself, would be an entertaining evening out.