If today I didn’t say that I loved you,
rest assured I do, I do so dear.
If today I didn’t say that I adore you,
rest assured I do, I do so dear.
You’re the glue that keeps me together
and keeps me apart from all of my blues.
It’s you that makes so much better than
down weathered, soul battered and bruised.
If today I didn’t say that I missed you,
rest assured I do, I do so still.
If today I haven’t moved as to kiss you,
rest assured I will I will.
With you I can stand any weather,
your solace has me tethered safe from harm.
It’s you, my blaze is unfettered,
I can feel no better than when I'm in your arms.
It’s you that makes me feel like I can go on forever.
It’s with you I feel I can stand any weather.
If today I didn’t say that I loved you,
rest assured I do, I do so dear
I do, I do so dear
Friday, September 2, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Ears on fire! 8.29.11 edition
Ya know how sometimes somebody will get a bit of notoriety for doing something a little glib or snarky, but then when u peel back layers you find out that there actually aren’t any layers there at all? That what you saw in that fleeting glimmer was all there was to them. That there was actually no shine and that it all was just candle light water play off a mirror? Now think about how u felt when u realized that this something that u thought was soooooo cool and soooooo whatever turned out to be dolla store electronics with a true lifespan that frizzled up in less time than it took you to find somebody to tell about it.
Can you taste that…un-goodness?
Well I’ve got your remedy, I’ve got your flavor savior and his name is WATSKY.
U may have seen his “pale white rapper” youtube video of him rapping really fast that got him a spot performing that same track on the Ellen show.
That ish wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. WATSKY runs deep and comes with a bazaam of mental hip-hop that will soon enuff land in comparative sentences with the likes of Sage Francis, MC Chris, Deltron and Aesop Rock… (amongst others).
But there is no need to take my word for it. get your free download of his new mixtape, “A New Kind of Sexy”
Listen to it and download it by visiting the following link:
http://gwatsky.bandcamp.com/album/a-new-kind-of-sexy-mixtape
Be sure to listen to the extra track, you won’t be sorry.
If this album is your gateway to underground hip-hop, then glory be to that.
Go listen now and thank me later.
Can you taste that…un-goodness?
Well I’ve got your remedy, I’ve got your flavor savior and his name is WATSKY.
U may have seen his “pale white rapper” youtube video of him rapping really fast that got him a spot performing that same track on the Ellen show.
That ish wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. WATSKY runs deep and comes with a bazaam of mental hip-hop that will soon enuff land in comparative sentences with the likes of Sage Francis, MC Chris, Deltron and Aesop Rock… (amongst others).
But there is no need to take my word for it. get your free download of his new mixtape, “A New Kind of Sexy”
Listen to it and download it by visiting the following link:
http://gwatsky.bandcamp.com/album/a-new-kind-of-sexy-mixtape
Be sure to listen to the extra track, you won’t be sorry.
If this album is your gateway to underground hip-hop, then glory be to that.
Go listen now and thank me later.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
that old money dance
Now here we go around and around
Shaken from shaking our souls for the town
Gospel to gutters, that wide spanning prance
Delightful and spiteful; that old money dance
Boys in their colors and girls nice in white
See nothing unseemly done by them this night
They extend a hand and a shoulder to chance
For riches to pour out; that old money dance
And after the service, they box up and roll
Enchanted, life’s granted them such bold control
And settle they down for the high of romance
No thoughts of the scatter; that old money dance
The sun blares a glaring alarm in the morn
Past dreams seems have steamed formed a thick trickly thorn
Brows now endowed seek out grands of advance
Taking shakes, staking steaks from that old money dance
Days end and out sides both the loft and the street
Oh so cold, souls patrol beating heat feats with feet
As they stand understanding the lance of demands
Resolute suits scoot boots to that old money dance
Keeping heads above water till we’re well below ground
No break from making that to which we’re bound
Traps perhaps happen, you plan; it commands
That you must… bust dust… Hustle and shuffle
do that old money dance
Shaken from shaking our souls for the town
Gospel to gutters, that wide spanning prance
Delightful and spiteful; that old money dance
Boys in their colors and girls nice in white
See nothing unseemly done by them this night
They extend a hand and a shoulder to chance
For riches to pour out; that old money dance
And after the service, they box up and roll
Enchanted, life’s granted them such bold control
And settle they down for the high of romance
No thoughts of the scatter; that old money dance
The sun blares a glaring alarm in the morn
Past dreams seems have steamed formed a thick trickly thorn
Brows now endowed seek out grands of advance
Taking shakes, staking steaks from that old money dance
Days end and out sides both the loft and the street
Oh so cold, souls patrol beating heat feats with feet
As they stand understanding the lance of demands
Resolute suits scoot boots to that old money dance
Keeping heads above water till we’re well below ground
No break from making that to which we’re bound
Traps perhaps happen, you plan; it commands
That you must… bust dust… Hustle and shuffle
do that old money dance
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
oh my my...
oh my my, what have we done?
we've pawned all of our bullets to buy some bigger guns
we burned all the maps so that we can plainly see
that everybody's lost; you as well as me
rather than extend a hand to share a neighborly drink
I pissed in the canteen so you have to smell it stink
cut down all the trees and hid away of their fruit
now can't seem to find them, but hey, neither can you
I plan for tomorrow by souring today
to prove that it didn't work out; not doing things OUR way
you want us to be unyielding, and so for you we stood
you all may be suffering, but it's really for your own good
and when there's nothing remaining for granddaughter and son
and they ask, "oh my my, what have you all done?"
we can just smile down upon them all like the rays of the golden sun
and tell them oh so proudly, "child, what we've done ...is won."
we've pawned all of our bullets to buy some bigger guns
we burned all the maps so that we can plainly see
that everybody's lost; you as well as me
rather than extend a hand to share a neighborly drink
I pissed in the canteen so you have to smell it stink
cut down all the trees and hid away of their fruit
now can't seem to find them, but hey, neither can you
I plan for tomorrow by souring today
to prove that it didn't work out; not doing things OUR way
you want us to be unyielding, and so for you we stood
you all may be suffering, but it's really for your own good
and when there's nothing remaining for granddaughter and son
and they ask, "oh my my, what have you all done?"
we can just smile down upon them all like the rays of the golden sun
and tell them oh so proudly, "child, what we've done ...is won."
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
What? dreams may come...
The following is an incomplete list of things that comprise the major topics touched upon in my dream last night:
Screendoors
How U.S. embassies in non-combatant countries handle irrational citizens reporting low-level emergencies.
Competitive indoor long-distance swimming
The behind-the-scenes lives of professional make-up artists working in the adult film industry
How Asian female body guards keep in shape and how their mindset can affect the emotional state of their male relatives who’re dealing with uncertainty in their current committed relationships.
Sights that might be seen if visiting a covered (yet fully vegetated) foot-ball field sized arboretum courtyard entrance to a building that is part shopping mall, part studio apartments, and part shooting range
People who hate screendoors (unrelated to prior topic)
How to choose a tire repair service technician when you’re in a town unfamiliar to you and just as you get a flat, you notice that there are 2 of these type places right across the street from one another and they seem to be operated by feuding relatives.
The step by step guide to rising in popularity by systematically disliking things that those around you speak of disliking
This is about 1/3 of the things that actually filled the dream (I just can’t clearly remember more of them at this point) and the linear timeline of the dream jumped around touching on these topics like a spastic Frogger icon.
So...what did YOU dream about?
Screendoors
How U.S. embassies in non-combatant countries handle irrational citizens reporting low-level emergencies.
Competitive indoor long-distance swimming
The behind-the-scenes lives of professional make-up artists working in the adult film industry
How Asian female body guards keep in shape and how their mindset can affect the emotional state of their male relatives who’re dealing with uncertainty in their current committed relationships.
Sights that might be seen if visiting a covered (yet fully vegetated
People who hate screendoors (unrelated to prior topic)
How to choose a tire repair service technician when you’re in a town unfamiliar to you and just as you get a flat, you notice that there are 2 of these type places right across the street from one another and they seem to be operated by feuding relatives.
The step by step guide to rising in popularity by systematically disliking things that those around you speak of disliking
This is about 1/3 of the things that actually filled the dream (I just can’t clearly remember more of them at this point) and the linear timeline of the dream jumped around touching on these topics like a spastic Frogger icon.
So...what did YOU dream about?
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
2 issues
So today I have 2 issues on which I’d like to touch. The first is an ideological question. And the 2nd is a bit of…“hope against hope” advice. As always, responses are welcome.
Issue 1:
I can justify why the chicken crossed the road, but seriously what exactly were “ all the king’s horses” hoping to add to the Humpty Dumpty rescue effort? Were they like the 1st responders on the scene? Were they there for crowd control?
I'm not trying to incur the wrath of equine rights groups, but I'm guessing that the lack of opposable thumbs made reconstructive manipulation a bit dodgey for them. I feel a t-shirt design coming on… details to come soon.
Issue 2:
The other day I was thinking. And when I was thinking, I thought about this thing that I'm about to tell you. It may be useful to somebody at some point.
Now, I hope that this information is not something that many people would ever really HAVE to find useful, but just in case I’ll pass it on.
If (due to either some happening of your own devising or just because the fates have aligned against you) you ever find yourself in a situation where you have to best/outdo/beat/conquer the devil or some other supernatural being of malice in order to save something (your eternal soul/ your friends & family/ the planet/ a half panda-half koala bear cub or whatever) then there is only one thing I would suggest.
Say this, “I challenge to a contest to lose everything. And if you are not successful, then you have to return to me everything that I lost during the contest and in the way that I request it.”
This may seem counter-intuitive at first, but when you think it through…either the supernatural being doesn’t successfully lose everything and has to return everything to you or (for a bit) it does think that it was successful. But then u inform it that if it was successful, then it just won something, thus making it no longer successful of losing everything and therefore it has to return things to you.
It’s a risky and gutsy move, but I'm gonna image that if you’re in a situation like this, your options are probably not the most ideal.
So there ya go. I hope u never need this info, but if you do…there ya go.
Issue 1:
I can justify why the chicken crossed the road, but seriously what exactly were “ all the king’s horses” hoping to add to the Humpty Dumpty rescue effort? Were they like the 1st responders on the scene? Were they there for crowd control?
I'm not trying to incur the wrath of equine rights groups, but I'm guessing that the lack of opposable thumbs made reconstructive manipulation a bit dodgey for them. I feel a t-shirt design coming on… details to come soon.
Issue 2:
The other day I was thinking. And when I was thinking, I thought about this thing that I'm about to tell you. It may be useful to somebody at some point.
Now, I hope that this information is not something that many people would ever really HAVE to find useful, but just in case I’ll pass it on.
If (due to either some happening of your own devising or just because the fates have aligned against you) you ever find yourself in a situation where you have to best/outdo/beat/conquer the devil or some other supernatural being of malice in order to save something (your eternal soul/ your friends & family/ the planet/ a half panda-half koala bear cub or whatever) then there is only one thing I would suggest.
Say this, “I challenge to a contest to lose everything. And if you are not successful, then you have to return to me everything that I lost during the contest and in the way that I request it.”
This may seem counter-intuitive at first, but when you think it through…either the supernatural being doesn’t successfully lose everything and has to return everything to you or (for a bit) it does think that it was successful. But then u inform it that if it was successful, then it just won something, thus making it no longer successful of losing everything and therefore it has to return things to you.
It’s a risky and gutsy move, but I'm gonna image that if you’re in a situation like this, your options are probably not the most ideal.
So there ya go. I hope u never need this info, but if you do…there ya go.
Monday, July 11, 2011
ish i think is cool 7.11.11 edition
So today i've been watching the first season of a show call The Boondocks. It's been around for a while (I think they might be on season 4 now) but I've just started it. If you have any qualms about ethnicity relations being explored in a unapologetically un-PC way, then this is probably not the show for you. How ever, it is extremely funny if you can get past that. A few of the character names have made me laugh out loud; (Col. H. Stinkmeaner, Gangstalicious and A Pimp Named Slickback just to name a a couple).
It's not only the Character names that have made me laugh out loud but some of the dialog. I'd like to now share with you some of my favorites so far:
Huey: I got an idea - why don't we go to college so we don't end up like Gangstalicious?
~~~
Riley: It's like going to heaven and finding God smoking crack.
~~~~
Cristal: The name's Cristal, you know like the Champagne.
Huey Freeman: Cristal, that sounds like a stripper name. Might you be a stripper, Cristal like the champagne?
Cristal: And what would you know about strippers little man?
Huey Freeman: Not much, but I do know they're usually named after liquor.
~~~~
Ed Wuncler: It smells like hot Armpit on wheat bread.
However the thing that made me post this...um...posting was a reading of 2 proposed “dishes” from the menu for a restaurant called “The ITIS” :
Sausage and waffles and fried chicken breakfast lasagna
and
Bacon wrapped chitlins stuffed catfish
The rest just needs to be seen.
It's not only the Character names that have made me laugh out loud but some of the dialog. I'd like to now share with you some of my favorites so far:
Huey: I got an idea - why don't we go to college so we don't end up like Gangstalicious?
~~~
Riley: It's like going to heaven and finding God smoking crack.
~~~~
Cristal: The name's Cristal, you know like the Champagne.
Huey Freeman: Cristal, that sounds like a stripper name. Might you be a stripper, Cristal like the champagne?
Cristal: And what would you know about strippers little man?
Huey Freeman: Not much, but I do know they're usually named after liquor.
~~~~
Ed Wuncler: It smells like hot Armpit on wheat bread.
However the thing that made me post this...um...posting was a reading of 2 proposed “dishes” from the menu for a restaurant called “The ITIS” :
Sausage and waffles and fried chicken breakfast lasagna
and
Bacon wrapped chitlins stuffed catfish
The rest just needs to be seen.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Ears on fire! 7.6.11 edition
First of all I’d like to thank the good people over at “Kevin Bourgeois” for initially directing me to the A.V.Club’s video page by posting a link of TMBG performing a Chumbawumba ditty. In case you don’t know about this whole thing, (admittedly I hadn’t up until then), the A.V.Club has a list of 25 songs that people submitted. Then 25 different bands come in and choose a song off the list to perform live in the A.V.Club’s office. Once a song has been performed, it get crossed off the list and cannot be chosen by a later band. So as things progress there are less and less songs from which to choose.
The TMBG performance was once of those. And they nailed it by bringing in what I guess was the entire office staff to belt out the mob chant of “I get knocked down!” on the choruses. You can see that video by following this link [http://www.avclub.com/articles/they-might-be-giants-covers-chumbawamba,53068/ ].
After rocking out to this vid, I perused some of the other vids (including some from the previous year) and was glad that I did. Some of the other incrediblastic covers included : Of Montreal doing White Stripes; Coheed and Cambria covering the Smiths; Rise Against doing Nirvana; and Ben Folds intimate tribute to Elliott Smith.
As awesome as all of these were, the one performance that prompted me to lay fingertips to keyboard and has been dominating half of my recent listening (we’ll get to the other half in a sec) was that of Wye Oak’s take on the Danzig sonic juggernaut, “Mother”. Just go and bear witness [http://www.avclub.com/articles/wye-oak-covers-danzig,53066/ ]. Wye Oak was a band that knew little about, but you can be sure that I’ll seek out more from them in the near future.
Now the other half of my recent listening has been pretty packed with music by somebody with whom I'm far more familiar. And yes I am of course speaking of Darryl Jenifer who you might know as the towering bassist of groundbreaking punk-rastas Bad Brains. Well he’s releasing a new solo album entitled, “In Search of Black Judas.” Visit his page [http://www.darryljenifer.com/ ] to hear the 2 tracks I'm been loving so much and to see everything else that Darryl and his big green bass has been up to.
The TMBG performance was once of those. And they nailed it by bringing in what I guess was the entire office staff to belt out the mob chant of “I get knocked down!” on the choruses. You can see that video by following this link [http://www.avclub.com/articles/they-might-be-giants-covers-chumbawamba,53068/ ].
After rocking out to this vid, I perused some of the other vids (including some from the previous year) and was glad that I did. Some of the other incrediblastic covers included : Of Montreal doing White Stripes; Coheed and Cambria covering the Smiths; Rise Against doing Nirvana; and Ben Folds intimate tribute to Elliott Smith.
As awesome as all of these were, the one performance that prompted me to lay fingertips to keyboard and has been dominating half of my recent listening (we’ll get to the other half in a sec) was that of Wye Oak’s take on the Danzig sonic juggernaut, “Mother”. Just go and bear witness [http://www.avclub.com/articles/wye-oak-covers-danzig,53066/ ]. Wye Oak was a band that knew little about, but you can be sure that I’ll seek out more from them in the near future.
Now the other half of my recent listening has been pretty packed with music by somebody with whom I'm far more familiar. And yes I am of course speaking of Darryl Jenifer who you might know as the towering bassist of groundbreaking punk-rastas Bad Brains. Well he’s releasing a new solo album entitled, “In Search of Black Judas.” Visit his page [http://www.darryljenifer.com/ ] to hear the 2 tracks I'm been loving so much and to see everything else that Darryl and his big green bass has been up to.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Ubon’s Built-in Bacon Burgers
A few weeks ago, Leslie “The Barbeque Princess” Roark Scott asked people to submit recipes they had that used Ubon’s sauce. Today I submitted this one. Its product is both delicious and relevant for the day.
Ubon’s Built-in Bacon Burgers
Ingredients:
Ubon’s dipping sauce
A coupla big handfuls of your favorite flavorful chips
Coupla lbs of ground meat
Real bacon bits (not bacos)
The do:
Dump the ground meat into a large bowl. Then bag up the chips. I suggested “flavorful” chips because you’ll be using them as breadcrumbs, hence you’ll want something that’s gonna add something to the overall dish as well as performing the breadcrumb task. I use wavy lays ranch, but use whatever u like. After bagging the chips, pulverize them until they resemble breadcrumbs. Then dump them into the bowl as well. Mix things up a bit until the bread crumbs are pretty integrated. Pour in a little Ubon’s. Keep mixing. Dump in the bacon bits (chopped up leftovers from breakfast are ideal but not mandatory) add a little more Ubon’s. Mix well until all components are integrated into a mostly uniform consistency. Form patties. Grill or otherwise cook until tasty perfection. I grilled mine and topped them with some Ubon’s after the first flip.
Enjoy!
Get more info about Ubon’s by visiting the following links:
http://www.ubons.blogspot.com/
http://www.facebook.com/ubons
Ubon’s Built-in Bacon Burgers
Ingredients:
Ubon’s dipping sauce
A coupla big handfuls of your favorite flavorful chips
Coupla lbs of ground meat
Real bacon bits (not bacos)
The do:
Dump the ground meat into a large bowl. Then bag up the chips. I suggested “flavorful” chips because you’ll be using them as breadcrumbs, hence you’ll want something that’s gonna add something to the overall dish as well as performing the breadcrumb task. I use wavy lays ranch, but use whatever u like. After bagging the chips, pulverize them until they resemble breadcrumbs. Then dump them into the bowl as well. Mix things up a bit until the bread crumbs are pretty integrated. Pour in a little Ubon’s. Keep mixing. Dump in the bacon bits (chopped up leftovers from breakfast are ideal but not mandatory) add a little more Ubon’s. Mix well until all components are integrated into a mostly uniform consistency. Form patties. Grill or otherwise cook until tasty perfection. I grilled mine and topped them with some Ubon’s after the first flip.
Enjoy!
Get more info about Ubon’s by visiting the following links:
http://www.ubons.blogspot.com/
http://www.facebook.com/ubons
Saturday, July 2, 2011
ish i think is cool 7.2.11 edition
the allwhere netherverse is a great big wet dangerous world of twisting cypress trunks, flat bottomed boats, treble hooks and fierce alligators ready to snap into your… wait…no, wait… I'm sorry. I was just having a Swamp People flashback. But, the net is pretty scary too.
Now I shall attempt to infotain you with a scraping of some of the creamiest gems I’ve tripped, skipped and stumbled upon here in the last (insert time unit of choice here). I hope that you enjoy them as much as I have.
I’ll get started with a sampling of eye-candy for your ears. I happened across live performances by some pretty well-known bands preforming some pretty well-known songs by some pretty well-known other bands and performing them well, pretty well themselves.
The first up is this vid [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4nTo8rjo-lM ] it’s Weezer performing Radiohead’s “paranoid android’. I think they pretty much nailed it. Makes you wonder what else they could peg. Maybe some Peeping Tom or Godsmack? If anybody knows them personally please pass the idea on to them. But tell ‘em I sentcha!
A while back I saw a vid of Arcade Fire performing their sonic masterpiece “Wake Up” live with the ever-awesomer David Bowie on lead vocals. I didn’t think I’d ever see a more (pardon the pun) fiery rendition than that performance. Then I came across a vid of that song being elevated by the phenomenal 1-2 punch of John Legend with the Legendary Roots Crew. Good Gravy!!!! WHEW! See it here > [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UKXKJc5DmT4 ] If you’d like to get some more of the magic that happens when JL sits in with the Roots, then stop by here [http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=130070018 ] and listen to them performing live on NPR’s World Café program. It’s definitely worth the drive over. Their take on “Hard Times” was looping on my phone for several days.
Now, if you prefer your pretty-well-known people-related awesomity to be chock fulla funny, then u need to head on over to Nice Peter’s YouTube channel [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHRxv-40WMU&feature=list_related&playnext=1&list=SP505BA1F19CCEF7C2 ] and watch a few of the “epic rap battles of history” spots. I can almost guarantee that something there will make you laugh. I started off with #3 (Abe Lincoln vs. Chuck Norris) but you can begin with any of them.
The netherverse is packed full of useful information. Ok, it’s packed full of..umm…er…nevermind. let’s just say that it’s packed. This being said, whenever I need to know the real deal about something, I don’t go to Wikipedia (well sometimes I do) no sirreebob, I go to the speaker of truth. I go to askaninja.com because he dispenses knowledge that you can really use in life. For instance, someone named, “lowfatjellydoughnut” asked him about ninja –proofing their soon to be arriving child’s nursery. Check out the golden nuggets he offered to them here > [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQIACotUzvY&feature=youtube_gdata ] and you can take that to the bank.
The last bit of ish that I think is cool for this edition is a response from my cousin-in-law when I jokingly asked about having a party at their soon to be finished home. It went a little something like this:
“ME: so....what bands are playing the house warming bar-b-q music festival and fireworks weekend spectacular? and i just mean what headliners...not the local opening bands.
Him: Mudhoney is going on first, but they're doing nothing but Tony Orlando & Dawn covers.
Mike Patton will debut his 45-minute interpretive dance entitled, "Jonathan Livingston Alka-Seltzer."
We'll wrap the evening up with a Minnie Pearl look-a-like contest and ferret chariot racing, set to the golden sounds of Deerhoof performing, "The Smash Hits of Falcon Crest: Vol. IV."
Wow…
So until next time…
Now I shall attempt to infotain you with a scraping of some of the creamiest gems I’ve tripped, skipped and stumbled upon here in the last (insert time unit of choice here). I hope that you enjoy them as much as I have.
I’ll get started with a sampling of eye-candy for your ears. I happened across live performances by some pretty well-known bands preforming some pretty well-known songs by some pretty well-known other bands and performing them well, pretty well themselves.
The first up is this vid [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4nTo8rjo-lM ] it’s Weezer performing Radiohead’s “paranoid android’. I think they pretty much nailed it. Makes you wonder what else they could peg. Maybe some Peeping Tom or Godsmack? If anybody knows them personally please pass the idea on to them. But tell ‘em I sentcha!
A while back I saw a vid of Arcade Fire performing their sonic masterpiece “Wake Up” live with the ever-awesomer David Bowie on lead vocals. I didn’t think I’d ever see a more (pardon the pun) fiery rendition than that performance. Then I came across a vid of that song being elevated by the phenomenal 1-2 punch of John Legend with the Legendary Roots Crew. Good Gravy!!!! WHEW! See it here > [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UKXKJc5DmT4 ] If you’d like to get some more of the magic that happens when JL sits in with the Roots, then stop by here [http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=130070018 ] and listen to them performing live on NPR’s World Café program. It’s definitely worth the drive over. Their take on “Hard Times” was looping on my phone for several days.
Now, if you prefer your pretty-well-known people-related awesomity to be chock fulla funny, then u need to head on over to Nice Peter’s YouTube channel [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHRxv-40WMU&feature=list_related&playnext=1&list=SP505BA1F19CCEF7C2 ] and watch a few of the “epic rap battles of history” spots. I can almost guarantee that something there will make you laugh. I started off with #3 (Abe Lincoln vs. Chuck Norris) but you can begin with any of them.
The netherverse is packed full of useful information. Ok, it’s packed full of..umm…er…nevermind. let’s just say that it’s packed. This being said, whenever I need to know the real deal about something, I don’t go to Wikipedia (well sometimes I do) no sirreebob, I go to the speaker of truth. I go to askaninja.com because he dispenses knowledge that you can really use in life. For instance, someone named, “lowfatjellydoughnut” asked him about ninja –proofing their soon to be arriving child’s nursery. Check out the golden nuggets he offered to them here > [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQIACotUzvY&feature=youtube_gdata ] and you can take that to the bank.
The last bit of ish that I think is cool for this edition is a response from my cousin-in-law when I jokingly asked about having a party at their soon to be finished home. It went a little something like this:
“ME: so....what bands are playing the house warming bar-b-q music festival and fireworks weekend spectacular? and i just mean what headliners...not the local opening bands.
Him: Mudhoney is going on first, but they're doing nothing but Tony Orlando & Dawn covers.
Mike Patton will debut his 45-minute interpretive dance entitled, "Jonathan Livingston Alka-Seltzer."
We'll wrap the evening up with a Minnie Pearl look-a-like contest and ferret chariot racing, set to the golden sounds of Deerhoof performing, "The Smash Hits of Falcon Crest: Vol. IV."
Wow…
So until next time…
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
stood looked and listened (no comma needed)
I stood at the door and I looked and I listened,
I looked and I stood and I listened and I looked.
Twice on before had I stood up and I listened;
Had I stood on and listened and I thought never more.
Yet there up again was the look that I listened
For the listen was be-stood, and be-stood it was broken.
Broken as before and before then it stood
As it spoke of the listen and it swore stood was good.
But the spoken was broken and the stood up fell down
So I took the door and then stood and left town.
I looked and I stood and I listened and I looked.
Twice on before had I stood up and I listened;
Had I stood on and listened and I thought never more.
Yet there up again was the look that I listened
For the listen was be-stood, and be-stood it was broken.
Broken as before and before then it stood
As it spoke of the listen and it swore stood was good.
But the spoken was broken and the stood up fell down
So I took the door and then stood and left town.
Friday, June 24, 2011
live action random band generator
This is something that will probably shake things up a little bit.
It’s a live action random band generator.
Here’s how it works:
There will be 4 large jars labeled; “numbers”, “members”, “name” & “genre”
~The “numbers” jar will be filled with strips of paper each with the number 2, 3, 4 or 5 on them. This determines if the group will be a duo, trio, quartet or quintet.
~The “members” jar has strips with the names of any and all of the willing participating musicians. Dj’s, emcee’s, trombonists, bassists, opera singers or whatever. Any actual musician is welcome. 1 name will be pulled to fill each slot created by the “numbers” drawing.
~The “name” jar has strips of paper with a single word written on it. The band has to incorporate that word into their band name.
~And the “genre” jar is probably self-explanatory.
Now after the band lineup, and genre has been set, the group gets together to write and rehearse 8 – 10 original songs [maybe 1 cover could be allowed] that they will perform exactly 1 month later at a predetermined bar. At the beginning (or end) of the band’s set, the process begins again and the next band is generated to perform a month from then…and so on…
It’d be cool if it could be the same bar every time but I'm sure that this kinda thing will need to embrace flexibility.
Anyway the shows get recorded and perhaps a website can be set up with a page for each of the generated bands where interested parties can go listen to that particular band’s show.
I’ll gladly design flyers for each of the band’s shows.
Since I'm not in the BR currently, I can’t do a lot to help out on site but if people are interested I’ll do my best to help out in any way that I can.
Anybody interested?
It’s a live action random band generator.
Here’s how it works:
There will be 4 large jars labeled; “numbers”, “members”, “name” & “genre”
~The “numbers” jar will be filled with strips of paper each with the number 2, 3, 4 or 5 on them. This determines if the group will be a duo, trio, quartet or quintet.
~The “members” jar has strips with the names of any and all of the willing participating musicians. Dj’s, emcee’s, trombonists, bassists, opera singers or whatever. Any actual musician is welcome. 1 name will be pulled to fill each slot created by the “numbers” drawing.
~The “name” jar has strips of paper with a single word written on it. The band has to incorporate that word into their band name.
~And the “genre” jar is probably self-explanatory.
Now after the band lineup, and genre has been set, the group gets together to write and rehearse 8 – 10 original songs [maybe 1 cover could be allowed] that they will perform exactly 1 month later at a predetermined bar. At the beginning (or end) of the band’s set, the process begins again and the next band is generated to perform a month from then…and so on…
It’d be cool if it could be the same bar every time but I'm sure that this kinda thing will need to embrace flexibility.
Anyway the shows get recorded and perhaps a website can be set up with a page for each of the generated bands where interested parties can go listen to that particular band’s show.
I’ll gladly design flyers for each of the band’s shows.
Since I'm not in the BR currently, I can’t do a lot to help out on site but if people are interested I’ll do my best to help out in any way that I can.
Anybody interested?
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
vilis alius
Twisted, I missed it, I fell on my face.
Wished it, I fished to a pail of disgrace
Lifted the gifted so high on the mark
Blinded by hindsight, now low in the dark
Where was the other way out?
Where was the confident doubt?
Where was the luck tossed on fingertips crossed?
I remember I used to be lost.
Minute, by million, by sweet and by sun
Traffic and tailors, the bunch , ev’ry one
All put together in separate souls
While fingerprint fantasies lust uncontrolled.
Who was the autumnous spring?
The most inconsistent sure thing?
Wind reaped the sky from the ground
And I then forgot to be found.
I dance around this straight line
Buckle my throat to tail time.
Bound like the spine of the ghost.
Fear that I miss nothing most.
Wished it, I fished to a pail of disgrace
Lifted the gifted so high on the mark
Blinded by hindsight, now low in the dark
Where was the other way out?
Where was the confident doubt?
Where was the luck tossed on fingertips crossed?
I remember I used to be lost.
Minute, by million, by sweet and by sun
Traffic and tailors, the bunch , ev’ry one
All put together in separate souls
While fingerprint fantasies lust uncontrolled.
Who was the autumnous spring?
The most inconsistent sure thing?
Wind reaped the sky from the ground
And I then forgot to be found.
I dance around this straight line
Buckle my throat to tail time.
Bound like the spine of the ghost.
Fear that I miss nothing most.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Sergio’s scariest day
The rain beat upon the windows and walls drumming a frenetic rhythm that mimicked the pounding of my fearful heart. My palms dripped sweat. My face reddened, flush with near panic. I paced back and forth like a broken toy soldier at my home’s front door. When it opened, would I be ready? I still didn’t know. Tomorrow morning would be the real test; my first day at school. Well, not just at school, but at a new school in a new city and a new state and a new country. Things couldn’t get any NEWer than this. I haven’t felt this nervous since I had to talk to the police after I shot that guinea pig with that meatball cannon. But that is a different story for another time. A time when I'm not totally about to freak out about my first day at school. I should try to sleep. I know that I can’t, but I at least need to try.
I crawl into my Roadrunner sleeping bag and pulled my Bugs Bunny pillow in tight. I lay there listening to the weather until I eventually pass out.
The sun woke me the next morning as it peeked through the window in my room. I pulled the covers over my face and then told myself that it was gonna happen whether I rushed it or waited an hour. So I got up, got dressed, ate my Captain Crunch peanut butter cereal (with chocolate milk, of course) and then walked the longest mile from the kitchen to the front door.
Today was the day! Today I’d claim my destiny. Today I’d become a man…or at least a kindergartener.
I crawl into my Roadrunner sleeping bag and pulled my Bugs Bunny pillow in tight. I lay there listening to the weather until I eventually pass out.
The sun woke me the next morning as it peeked through the window in my room. I pulled the covers over my face and then told myself that it was gonna happen whether I rushed it or waited an hour. So I got up, got dressed, ate my Captain Crunch peanut butter cereal (with chocolate milk, of course) and then walked the longest mile from the kitchen to the front door.
Today was the day! Today I’d claim my destiny. Today I’d become a man…or at least a kindergartener.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
awakening
Bruford McMillin was in for a rude awakening. In fact, he was in for the rudest awakening of his entire life…and he should know; his entire life had ended just a few moments ago.
He was almost amused that his final breathing thought had been, “So this is how it ends? That hooker is gonna freak out!” His first thought after he died was, “Look at me. I’m all Swayze.”
Now before you start judging Bruford for his hooker comment, I’ll clear the air. Whilst he was in Vegas and he did die doing the thing that took up the most of his time prior to death, he did not ‘pass over’ whilst in the arms of a ‘lady of the evening’. He died going to work. I might add that he was indeed 100% correct about the young lady freaking out (she totally freaked out) and he was mostly wrong that she was a hooker. She was in fact just a rather extravagantly dressed bride-to-be out with her bridesmaids for a super Vegas-ized bachelorette party.
There is no way that he could have seen the resemblance as he was dying, but right after he crossed over he could plainly see that she was the girl about to marry his 1st boss’ partner’s grandson’s brother’s roommate. Things were so clear now. With this kind of clarity he could really clean up at the poker tables …if only he hadn’t been so dead.
“Oh well,” he thought, “let’s see how this plays out.” At first he tried to stand back and sorta blend in with the crowd forming around his recently vacated body. Then he remembered that he was dead and since he was dead, he could pretty much stand wherever he wanted because nobody could see him anyway.
He’d never ridden in an ambulance before and thought that it was really cool…again except for the dead part. The time at the coroner’s office however, was something that he felt he could’ve gone his whole life with out seeing - and luckily for him, he had.
His funeral was a tossed salad of emotions; for the attendees and the guest of honor as well. Being not blinded by the fog of personal agenda, Bruford found himself fully aware of the guests’ truest feelings. His heart broke right along with those truly saddened by his death. A pre-death suspicion that his boss really was underpaying was confirmed when he felt his boss wondering about where he was going to find another sap that good who’d work for such a low wage. He also found out that 4 of his co-workers had serious crushes on him. 3 of those were at near stalker levels. The other non-stalkerish one was the only female of the bunch. All in all though, it was a touching service. It left him feeling better about some things, although there were those 2 people for which he wished he could’ve cleared a couple of things up. But he knew that ‘that ship had sailed’ and he was, for him, oddly ok with that.
After the last car had slowly rolled away, the last clod of dirt had been flung and the last tear of the day had been wiped away by a empathetic hand, Bruford gave a sigh that (had he still been able to breathe) said, “And I’m done.”
He turned away and began to walk. Shapes and colors mixed, blurred and swirled about him. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but walking seemed like it was what he was supposed to be doing.
Eventually he looked up and saw a place. In his soul it seemed to resonate ‘home.’
“I am here,” Bruford thought. He entered, found his bed and sat on it testing its comfort level. The word ‘perfect’ wasn’t even exact enough of a word to describe how dead on (no pun intended) its comfort level was. He leaned back onto the perfect pillows, kicked up his heels and thought, “So this is what I’ve been working for, for so long.” He smiled, snuggled in, closed his eyes and released a would-be breath of total relaxation.
Then he felt it…then he felt it again. What he thought he’d felt was someone knocking at his front door, but if that front door was actually his brain.
He cracked one eye, saw nothing and resumed his attempt at relaxing. That’s when he heard someone very deliberately clearing their throat at him. He frowned at this pretense and opened both of his eyes. There stood a man, or at least he thought it was a man. He felt like he should rather use the term ‘character’; definitely ‘character.’ He decided that later on when he was recounting this event, he’d definitely, with out a doubt, refer to this person as a character. But then he thought, “just who am I gonna recount this to? I’m so dead…woulda been funny though.”
Without sitting up or even raising his head, he gave this character a good look. He, the character, stood there at full posture; fingertips pressed together in a high-school theatre competition sort of way. Bruford had no idea what was going to happen next, but he was pretty sure that this character was waaaay overdressed for it. He almost chuckled as he concluded that he must have a name like …Froobert Van der Plums.
He, the recently named Froobert, stood silently with a look on his face that loudly whispered, “Look, I don’t mean to bother you, but what I’m about to tell you is really going to bother you…like…a lot.”
Bruford broke the silence asking, “Froobert?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your name? It wouldn’t happen to be Froobert, would it?”
“Err..no. Perhaps Froobert was re-assigned. I can as for them if you’d like. However, my name is Jesper, Jesper Saint Florence and I’m here from LMAC.”
“Who’s Mack?” Bruford asked. “I don’t recall meeting any Mexicans named Mack.”
“Not ‘el Mack’, L-MAC. The Lifetime Misappropriation Accountancy Convention.”
“Never heard of them.”
“Well of course not. We only deal with the dead. And, if we get enough done before a long weekend, sometimes a remote hermit. “
“So what’s your gig? Why are you here for me?”
Bruford could tell that Jesper was all excited that he’d asked. “Well sir, we are the fine souls that keep track of each single second of the time you wasted in life; so that you can pay it back now.”
“Are you serious?”
“Usually far more than necessary. Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘you’re living on borrowed time and someday you’ll have to give it back’? Well, today is that day!”
Bruford was perplexed and partially because he didn’t remember sitting up, which he was clearly now doing. “So I have to spend the day paying back wasted time?”
Now Jesper was really in a tizzy. One would guess that he lived for this kind of thing. But then one would have to guess if he was alive or not. And that just open a whole bait shop o’ worms of guessing and nobody wants to see that. He almost spurted joy as he explained. “Oh no, not just today; EVERYDAY! Well, everyday until your debt is cleared. I did say that I have a record of each and every second of your life.”
Bruford began to think that this whole being dead thing was beginning to lose its raison d’etre. (pun intended) “And now I have to pay it back?; Everything that I wasted?”
“With 20% interest, compounded daily; it adds up quickly. And since you took a few days for your funeral and such, you’re already a few weeks behind schedule.”
Bruford stood up, waved a half hearted goodbye to his bed and decided that he might as well get started on his time penance. “Guess there’s no rest for the wicked, eh?”
Jesper quickly corrected him. “Well no, but you’re not the wicked. They have an 84% interest rate and it’s compounded using the complete quadratic. The wicked, that’s Glaywallace’s domain.”
“Glaywallace?”
“Yes, Glaywallace Van der Plums; the LMAC super hero, or super-villian depending.”
Bruford was 100% sure that he didn’t want to entertain that conversation. “So, how do I get this party started? Is there a factory or how does it work?”
Jesper, being far more serious than necessary, responded. “There actually is no party. What happens is that I will introduce you to a TDP (Time Debt Processor) and they will assign you to your retro’s. Starting back as far as you go, you’ll see every time you’ve wasted the time of others and you’ll give needed time back to them or to their closest living deserving relative.”
“Deserving?”
“Yes, deserving. If the nearest living relative is a son who is busy wasting his own time, then you won’t give him a single second. But if his 2nd cousin is minutes away from being late on a house payment that would result in her getting evicted, then you’ll pay your time to that person…as long as they continue to deserve it and as long as you owe time to their relative.”
“When do I start?”
Jesper pointed to Bruford’s left. “Behind you is your TDP Timbrin Caspolininini. She’ll be your guide for what I suspect will be the next great while.”
Bruford nodded a greeting, shook her hand and set off to work. He was determined to do the right thing. And he did…
74 years, 8 months, 23 days, 17 hours, 4 minutes and 9 seconds later he had paid off his debt of wasting other people’s time. He returned to Timbrin who remarked that she had never seen such zeal before. Never had somebody taken to righting their wrongs so voraciously. She said that she was both sad and glad to sign off on his final assignment. She told him that it was now ’His Time’. Bruford had noticed that she had said those words in a way that made them feel capitalized but he was also a bit tired as you can imagine, but not nearly as tired as you’d expect someone to be who hadn’t slept a wink in nearly 75 years. Bruford looked down at this, his last debt. It instructed him to meet with Darlop Krang P.O.C. He was really beginning to think that the 3 letter acronym was essential to any business that wished to survive; dead or otherwise. He found Darlop. She sat him down. He asked her what P.O.C. stood for. She revealed, “Personal Offense Counselor.”
Bruford was even more perplexed than when he had unknowingly sat up on his bed. “I just paid back my debt to everyone. Timbrin said so. Who could I have personally offended? Whose time have I wasted?”
“Why, your own.” Darlop clarified. “Life is full of so many precious moments and you cheated yourself out of so many of them. Now I’ll show you those moments and how they could’ve been different had you not stolen them away from…well, you.”
And thus began to scroll every chance to nap, every home cooked meal refused, every phone call unanswered, every kind word unreturned, every single kiss not dared, every goodbye unhugged and every moment not spent in the arms or smiling glow of a true loved one traded for something that at the time seemed worthwhile but now flapped in the wind of truth.
For a moment Bruford felt empty and hollow. But that chasm filled slowly and painfully with regret at losses he could never recoup. And when it was all over and the final image poured past of him rushing out the door on the morning that he had died with out so much as a ‘see ya later’ to those around him; rushing towards a job for which he now knew he was profanely underpaid. Past all of those souls whose lives would have been enriched by a smile; after all of this had faded and he was left with nothing but that weight inside himself only then did he hear the sound of Darlop stamping his account receipt.
She handed him the ticket and he read the front. In big bold red letters it declared “PAID IN FULL!” Bruford placed it in his pocket, turned away and began to walk.
This time he knew where he was going and when he found it, it was just as he had left it all those years ago. He lay down on the bed, rested his very full head against the perfect pillow, closed his eyes and snuggled in. this time hoping to relax.
Then he heard it…then he heard it again…BEEEP! Like an angry alarm clock. But what was that other sound? He tried to focus in on it; as if cupping his hand up to his mind’s ear. Then he heard it again. And he felt like his perfect bed had grown a very large hand that had decided to give him a great shove. PAIN!!!!
“What was this?” Bruford thought, “There is no pain after death?!?!!” and then with a complex feeling he likened to what a toilet must feel like as it’s being flushed, Bruford felt himself make a sound. And it felt like something he hadn’t felt in forever. Then there was that sound again…what was it? He could tell now. It was a voice. But it wasn’t Jesper’s or Timbrin’s or even Darlop’s. He didn’t recognize this voice at all. He tried to focus in on what the voice was saying. Finally he could make it out…
“I think we got him. Yep, we got him!” and then there were sounds of cheers. It was a struggle unfelt before but Bruford opened his eyes and what he saw was…well it wasn’t his perfect bed. It was a crowd of people and…and there was that hooker again, (still freaking out) except he knew that she really wasn’t a hooker. People were cheering and hugging all around him as somebody rolled him into an ambulance. He got to ride in an ambulance again! He had to admit, this time it was much much cooler especially since it didn’t end up at the coroner’s table.
Bruford arrived at the hospital and was placed in a room of his own. The bed wasn’t anywhere close to perfect, but it was the best bed he’d felt in nearly 100 years. A nurse came by and asked if he wanted to call anybody. He had two calls in mind. “Call my boss and tell him I quit. And then call my house and tell anybody who answers that I love them very very much.” The nurse chuckled, said that Bruford sounded like he had a plan and she just needed him to write down the numbers for her. Without thinking, Bruford reached into his pocket to get a pen and perhaps some paper. What he pulled out was an odd looking ticket. On the front, in big bold letter it read,
“PAID IN FULL?...”
He was almost amused that his final breathing thought had been, “So this is how it ends? That hooker is gonna freak out!” His first thought after he died was, “Look at me. I’m all Swayze.”
Now before you start judging Bruford for his hooker comment, I’ll clear the air. Whilst he was in Vegas and he did die doing the thing that took up the most of his time prior to death, he did not ‘pass over’ whilst in the arms of a ‘lady of the evening’. He died going to work. I might add that he was indeed 100% correct about the young lady freaking out (she totally freaked out) and he was mostly wrong that she was a hooker. She was in fact just a rather extravagantly dressed bride-to-be out with her bridesmaids for a super Vegas-ized bachelorette party.
There is no way that he could have seen the resemblance as he was dying, but right after he crossed over he could plainly see that she was the girl about to marry his 1st boss’ partner’s grandson’s brother’s roommate. Things were so clear now. With this kind of clarity he could really clean up at the poker tables …if only he hadn’t been so dead.
“Oh well,” he thought, “let’s see how this plays out.” At first he tried to stand back and sorta blend in with the crowd forming around his recently vacated body. Then he remembered that he was dead and since he was dead, he could pretty much stand wherever he wanted because nobody could see him anyway.
He’d never ridden in an ambulance before and thought that it was really cool…again except for the dead part. The time at the coroner’s office however, was something that he felt he could’ve gone his whole life with out seeing - and luckily for him, he had.
His funeral was a tossed salad of emotions; for the attendees and the guest of honor as well. Being not blinded by the fog of personal agenda, Bruford found himself fully aware of the guests’ truest feelings. His heart broke right along with those truly saddened by his death. A pre-death suspicion that his boss really was underpaying was confirmed when he felt his boss wondering about where he was going to find another sap that good who’d work for such a low wage. He also found out that 4 of his co-workers had serious crushes on him. 3 of those were at near stalker levels. The other non-stalkerish one was the only female of the bunch. All in all though, it was a touching service. It left him feeling better about some things, although there were those 2 people for which he wished he could’ve cleared a couple of things up. But he knew that ‘that ship had sailed’ and he was, for him, oddly ok with that.
After the last car had slowly rolled away, the last clod of dirt had been flung and the last tear of the day had been wiped away by a empathetic hand, Bruford gave a sigh that (had he still been able to breathe) said, “And I’m done.”
He turned away and began to walk. Shapes and colors mixed, blurred and swirled about him. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but walking seemed like it was what he was supposed to be doing.
Eventually he looked up and saw a place. In his soul it seemed to resonate ‘home.’
“I am here,” Bruford thought. He entered, found his bed and sat on it testing its comfort level. The word ‘perfect’ wasn’t even exact enough of a word to describe how dead on (no pun intended) its comfort level was. He leaned back onto the perfect pillows, kicked up his heels and thought, “So this is what I’ve been working for, for so long.” He smiled, snuggled in, closed his eyes and released a would-be breath of total relaxation.
Then he felt it…then he felt it again. What he thought he’d felt was someone knocking at his front door, but if that front door was actually his brain.
He cracked one eye, saw nothing and resumed his attempt at relaxing. That’s when he heard someone very deliberately clearing their throat at him. He frowned at this pretense and opened both of his eyes. There stood a man, or at least he thought it was a man. He felt like he should rather use the term ‘character’; definitely ‘character.’ He decided that later on when he was recounting this event, he’d definitely, with out a doubt, refer to this person as a character. But then he thought, “just who am I gonna recount this to? I’m so dead…woulda been funny though.”
Without sitting up or even raising his head, he gave this character a good look. He, the character, stood there at full posture; fingertips pressed together in a high-school theatre competition sort of way. Bruford had no idea what was going to happen next, but he was pretty sure that this character was waaaay overdressed for it. He almost chuckled as he concluded that he must have a name like …Froobert Van der Plums.
He, the recently named Froobert, stood silently with a look on his face that loudly whispered, “Look, I don’t mean to bother you, but what I’m about to tell you is really going to bother you…like…a lot.”
Bruford broke the silence asking, “Froobert?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your name? It wouldn’t happen to be Froobert, would it?”
“Err..no. Perhaps Froobert was re-assigned. I can as for them if you’d like. However, my name is Jesper, Jesper Saint Florence and I’m here from LMAC.”
“Who’s Mack?” Bruford asked. “I don’t recall meeting any Mexicans named Mack.”
“Not ‘el Mack’, L-MAC. The Lifetime Misappropriation Accountancy Convention.”
“Never heard of them.”
“Well of course not. We only deal with the dead. And, if we get enough done before a long weekend, sometimes a remote hermit. “
“So what’s your gig? Why are you here for me?”
Bruford could tell that Jesper was all excited that he’d asked. “Well sir, we are the fine souls that keep track of each single second of the time you wasted in life; so that you can pay it back now.”
“Are you serious?”
“Usually far more than necessary. Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘you’re living on borrowed time and someday you’ll have to give it back’? Well, today is that day!”
Bruford was perplexed and partially because he didn’t remember sitting up, which he was clearly now doing. “So I have to spend the day paying back wasted time?”
Now Jesper was really in a tizzy. One would guess that he lived for this kind of thing. But then one would have to guess if he was alive or not. And that just open a whole bait shop o’ worms of guessing and nobody wants to see that. He almost spurted joy as he explained. “Oh no, not just today; EVERYDAY! Well, everyday until your debt is cleared. I did say that I have a record of each and every second of your life.”
Bruford began to think that this whole being dead thing was beginning to lose its raison d’etre. (pun intended) “And now I have to pay it back?; Everything that I wasted?”
“With 20% interest, compounded daily; it adds up quickly. And since you took a few days for your funeral and such, you’re already a few weeks behind schedule.”
Bruford stood up, waved a half hearted goodbye to his bed and decided that he might as well get started on his time penance. “Guess there’s no rest for the wicked, eh?”
Jesper quickly corrected him. “Well no, but you’re not the wicked. They have an 84% interest rate and it’s compounded using the complete quadratic. The wicked, that’s Glaywallace’s domain.”
“Glaywallace?”
“Yes, Glaywallace Van der Plums; the LMAC super hero, or super-villian depending.”
Bruford was 100% sure that he didn’t want to entertain that conversation. “So, how do I get this party started? Is there a factory or how does it work?”
Jesper, being far more serious than necessary, responded. “There actually is no party. What happens is that I will introduce you to a TDP (Time Debt Processor) and they will assign you to your retro’s. Starting back as far as you go, you’ll see every time you’ve wasted the time of others and you’ll give needed time back to them or to their closest living deserving relative.”
“Deserving?”
“Yes, deserving. If the nearest living relative is a son who is busy wasting his own time, then you won’t give him a single second. But if his 2nd cousin is minutes away from being late on a house payment that would result in her getting evicted, then you’ll pay your time to that person…as long as they continue to deserve it and as long as you owe time to their relative.”
“When do I start?”
Jesper pointed to Bruford’s left. “Behind you is your TDP Timbrin Caspolininini. She’ll be your guide for what I suspect will be the next great while.”
Bruford nodded a greeting, shook her hand and set off to work. He was determined to do the right thing. And he did…
74 years, 8 months, 23 days, 17 hours, 4 minutes and 9 seconds later he had paid off his debt of wasting other people’s time. He returned to Timbrin who remarked that she had never seen such zeal before. Never had somebody taken to righting their wrongs so voraciously. She said that she was both sad and glad to sign off on his final assignment. She told him that it was now ’His Time’. Bruford had noticed that she had said those words in a way that made them feel capitalized but he was also a bit tired as you can imagine, but not nearly as tired as you’d expect someone to be who hadn’t slept a wink in nearly 75 years. Bruford looked down at this, his last debt. It instructed him to meet with Darlop Krang P.O.C. He was really beginning to think that the 3 letter acronym was essential to any business that wished to survive; dead or otherwise. He found Darlop. She sat him down. He asked her what P.O.C. stood for. She revealed, “Personal Offense Counselor.”
Bruford was even more perplexed than when he had unknowingly sat up on his bed. “I just paid back my debt to everyone. Timbrin said so. Who could I have personally offended? Whose time have I wasted?”
“Why, your own.” Darlop clarified. “Life is full of so many precious moments and you cheated yourself out of so many of them. Now I’ll show you those moments and how they could’ve been different had you not stolen them away from…well, you.”
And thus began to scroll every chance to nap, every home cooked meal refused, every phone call unanswered, every kind word unreturned, every single kiss not dared, every goodbye unhugged and every moment not spent in the arms or smiling glow of a true loved one traded for something that at the time seemed worthwhile but now flapped in the wind of truth.
For a moment Bruford felt empty and hollow. But that chasm filled slowly and painfully with regret at losses he could never recoup. And when it was all over and the final image poured past of him rushing out the door on the morning that he had died with out so much as a ‘see ya later’ to those around him; rushing towards a job for which he now knew he was profanely underpaid. Past all of those souls whose lives would have been enriched by a smile; after all of this had faded and he was left with nothing but that weight inside himself only then did he hear the sound of Darlop stamping his account receipt.
She handed him the ticket and he read the front. In big bold red letters it declared “PAID IN FULL!” Bruford placed it in his pocket, turned away and began to walk.
This time he knew where he was going and when he found it, it was just as he had left it all those years ago. He lay down on the bed, rested his very full head against the perfect pillow, closed his eyes and snuggled in. this time hoping to relax.
Then he heard it…then he heard it again…BEEEP! Like an angry alarm clock. But what was that other sound? He tried to focus in on it; as if cupping his hand up to his mind’s ear. Then he heard it again. And he felt like his perfect bed had grown a very large hand that had decided to give him a great shove. PAIN!!!!
“What was this?” Bruford thought, “There is no pain after death?!?!!” and then with a complex feeling he likened to what a toilet must feel like as it’s being flushed, Bruford felt himself make a sound. And it felt like something he hadn’t felt in forever. Then there was that sound again…what was it? He could tell now. It was a voice. But it wasn’t Jesper’s or Timbrin’s or even Darlop’s. He didn’t recognize this voice at all. He tried to focus in on what the voice was saying. Finally he could make it out…
“I think we got him. Yep, we got him!” and then there were sounds of cheers. It was a struggle unfelt before but Bruford opened his eyes and what he saw was…well it wasn’t his perfect bed. It was a crowd of people and…and there was that hooker again, (still freaking out) except he knew that she really wasn’t a hooker. People were cheering and hugging all around him as somebody rolled him into an ambulance. He got to ride in an ambulance again! He had to admit, this time it was much much cooler especially since it didn’t end up at the coroner’s table.
Bruford arrived at the hospital and was placed in a room of his own. The bed wasn’t anywhere close to perfect, but it was the best bed he’d felt in nearly 100 years. A nurse came by and asked if he wanted to call anybody. He had two calls in mind. “Call my boss and tell him I quit. And then call my house and tell anybody who answers that I love them very very much.” The nurse chuckled, said that Bruford sounded like he had a plan and she just needed him to write down the numbers for her. Without thinking, Bruford reached into his pocket to get a pen and perhaps some paper. What he pulled out was an odd looking ticket. On the front, in big bold letter it read,
“PAID IN FULL?...”
Thursday, April 14, 2011
...and the winner is...
I once had a dream about a boy and a girl. They were brother and sister and were the goth-iest kids to ever float the earth. They were also clothing designers and extremely competitive with each other. This is the story of how one of their competitions went scary. It began one day when the brother showed up with a shirt made out of something so black that other colors were repelled by it. Not wishing to be out done, the sister arrived the next day with a pair of cargo pants made out of something so black that any room she entered seemed to dim whilst she was in it. The brother realized that things had just been stepped up and decided to step things up himself. The next day he came around with a hoodie made out of “shadow.” This bothered some passers-by and a few people found it difficult to walk behind him as he strolled the streets. The following day brought rain and it also brought the sister with a raincoat made out of “just out of the corner of your eye.” People kept almost running into her as they couldn’t see her until they had nearly passed right by her. Brother sat confraculated for a while. Then you could see his eyes switch over as he had a moment of clarity rarely seen outside of 18th century Eastern European training manuals. On the morrow he made his mark on the day by unleashing onto the world his boots and hat made out of “cold chill running down your spine.” After some disastrous incidents at local barber, he was asked to change his garb. On his way to do so he heard a sound he had yet to hear before, but instantly knew what it was. His sister had completed the ultimate triumph for a young goth-y competitive clothing designer. She had successfully brought about a most fearful garment indeed. Lesser people went crazy or just shrieked themselves into unconsciousness when their eyes fell upon her. She ghosted her way down the boulevard clad in a hooded trench-cloak constructed entirely out of “nothingness.” Luckily for me my alarm went off wrenching me from this dream before I became one of those ill-fated whom had the unfortunance to have seen exactly what this looked like. This is a knowledge that I am TOTALLY ok with having never gained…
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Beside: chapter 1
There is no name for what I am. No word fouled or abominable enough has ever been scraped across teeth or tongue. Ground has not been so transgressed as to when I alight upon it.
I have just crawled forth from my time of hiding. A sleep of sorts until the salt, sand and dirt vomited me out in a tearing upheaval of rock. Again I move, on the move; watching and being watched for.
I was once a great soldier; the deepest hunter. But then, through acts of the greatest treason and aggression was snared in nets seeping deceit. I cut and dug against it and passed out into a much darker light. And for it have become at once the most hunted hunter.
Vigilance is my every breath. My shield never drops and my sword is ever drawn to the ready. No army at my back and no friend at my side, I have only enemies in sight.
There is no grace for me. Beyond the most fallen, I have been cast asunder and am beside.
My story began long before your past and present. I, Bur’zkiel, proudly carried staff, shield and blade in the host of Him known as I. For time beyond time I served; loyal and true. Too true for the likes of Grazuel, who was before known as Araxiel; but is now the rogue…the betrayer.
My trust and love of once a brother blinded me to his orchestrations. I was lured by the trumpet calling for aid and flew into his trap. I found, not Gabriel, but a trick of Zagum twisting the blasphemous blare of Murmur. For the slightest of seconds, my disbelief paused my shield. The gargoyle Bar-Lgura fell down upon me. I was captured and set upon by the Upyr’s metal fangs. My defilement weakened me. As I lay writhing with the poisoner’s curse fighting inside me, I faded away from my senses over and over. Yet I could hear their bragging over me.
Grazuel sided himself with darkest of fates; Baalzephon (the captain of the beast’s guards) and Thamuz the chief of weapons. Commander of all their armies, Agaliarept, had commissioned a new super weapon, and I was the forge. For who could stand against an army of angels who had been bitten by the fang of vampire?
I had become something new. I was changed and even as I lay there I could feel the hand of grace sliding away from me. Forsaken and stolen from all that I had loved, I raged with this new strength within me. My blade flashed and my shield fell no more. I could feel the power surge and I could just as strongly feel the tearing inside me. The more I used my power to slay the enemies of Him that is called I, the more asunder I slid.
I fled.
I hid.
I clawed at the dirt and I climbed into it. Its blanket hid me for longer than I know. Now I am whole. The raging inside me knows its place and its grip I can now control. I walk your world, a soldier with no company, no home, and no world to call mine. I am hunted by everything that has ever raised munitions in this the great war of the ever. I am the thorn in the cheek of them all. For I am a creature that He, that is called I, did not create and I am the weapon that those fallen fates cannot command to aim. So every eye is watched and no back is trusted. Until I can find a future that I can claim as mine own, I shall be at war, ready with a shield thick and solid, a staff sound and a sword sharper than the dawn.
For I am Bur’zkiel, the asunder; the beside…
I have just crawled forth from my time of hiding. A sleep of sorts until the salt, sand and dirt vomited me out in a tearing upheaval of rock. Again I move, on the move; watching and being watched for.
I was once a great soldier; the deepest hunter. But then, through acts of the greatest treason and aggression was snared in nets seeping deceit. I cut and dug against it and passed out into a much darker light. And for it have become at once the most hunted hunter.
Vigilance is my every breath. My shield never drops and my sword is ever drawn to the ready. No army at my back and no friend at my side, I have only enemies in sight.
There is no grace for me. Beyond the most fallen, I have been cast asunder and am beside.
My story began long before your past and present. I, Bur’zkiel, proudly carried staff, shield and blade in the host of Him known as I. For time beyond time I served; loyal and true. Too true for the likes of Grazuel, who was before known as Araxiel; but is now the rogue…the betrayer.
My trust and love of once a brother blinded me to his orchestrations. I was lured by the trumpet calling for aid and flew into his trap. I found, not Gabriel, but a trick of Zagum twisting the blasphemous blare of Murmur. For the slightest of seconds, my disbelief paused my shield. The gargoyle Bar-Lgura fell down upon me. I was captured and set upon by the Upyr’s metal fangs. My defilement weakened me. As I lay writhing with the poisoner’s curse fighting inside me, I faded away from my senses over and over. Yet I could hear their bragging over me.
Grazuel sided himself with darkest of fates; Baalzephon (the captain of the beast’s guards) and Thamuz the chief of weapons. Commander of all their armies, Agaliarept, had commissioned a new super weapon, and I was the forge. For who could stand against an army of angels who had been bitten by the fang of vampire?
I had become something new. I was changed and even as I lay there I could feel the hand of grace sliding away from me. Forsaken and stolen from all that I had loved, I raged with this new strength within me. My blade flashed and my shield fell no more. I could feel the power surge and I could just as strongly feel the tearing inside me. The more I used my power to slay the enemies of Him that is called I, the more asunder I slid.
I fled.
I hid.
I clawed at the dirt and I climbed into it. Its blanket hid me for longer than I know. Now I am whole. The raging inside me knows its place and its grip I can now control. I walk your world, a soldier with no company, no home, and no world to call mine. I am hunted by everything that has ever raised munitions in this the great war of the ever. I am the thorn in the cheek of them all. For I am a creature that He, that is called I, did not create and I am the weapon that those fallen fates cannot command to aim. So every eye is watched and no back is trusted. Until I can find a future that I can claim as mine own, I shall be at war, ready with a shield thick and solid, a staff sound and a sword sharper than the dawn.
For I am Bur’zkiel, the asunder; the beside…
Saturday, March 19, 2011
BakeBake (a retelling of the story)
Just had the most amazing dream where the main character was this guy who held 2 passions in life: finding neon colored skater type shoes at Payless and this reality-style video game he’s designed where u sit around and bake things (yeah really) called “BakeBake”
(but wait, there’s more…)
well one day he’s distracted by his biker-jacket fetishist buddy, and his game prototype is stolen by these 2 slightly pregnant chain-smoking ex-strippers.
They try to sell the game to somebody and get laughed at to the point that they blame the main guy for it all and confess that it, “was all his big stupid idea”
This plan backfires on them because a big game company hires a film company to make a movie about the whole scenario, ...xcept they make the main character into a katana wielding, white tux wearing, ninja/spy/celebrity super assassin (a celebrity who is an assassin , not one who kills celebrities) who loves to wind down at the end of a day of ninja fighting foes and saving mysterious documents and ish by playing his favorite game [now called “The Oven Bake”] where in order to win the game you have to successfully bake super fancy muffin-tinned eats.
The movie features all sorts of big names. Schwarzenegger, Britney Spears, the guy who played the picked on friend from BASEketball, and others I can’t remember anymore. Oh and there was a dog that was half Pomeranian/ half Chihuahua (spastic and was always freaking people out)
It’s times like this when I’d like to be able to videotape my dreams.
(but wait, there’s more…)
well one day he’s distracted by his biker-jacket fetishist buddy, and his game prototype is stolen by these 2 slightly pregnant chain-smoking ex-strippers.
They try to sell the game to somebody and get laughed at to the point that they blame the main guy for it all and confess that it, “was all his big stupid idea”
This plan backfires on them because a big game company hires a film company to make a movie about the whole scenario, ...xcept they make the main character into a katana wielding, white tux wearing, ninja/spy/celebrity super assassin (a celebrity who is an assassin , not one who kills celebrities) who loves to wind down at the end of a day of ninja fighting foes and saving mysterious documents and ish by playing his favorite game [now called “The Oven Bake”] where in order to win the game you have to successfully bake super fancy muffin-tinned eats.
The movie features all sorts of big names. Schwarzenegger, Britney Spears, the guy who played the picked on friend from BASEketball, and others I can’t remember anymore. Oh and there was a dog that was half Pomeranian/ half Chihuahua (spastic and was always freaking people out)
It’s times like this when I’d like to be able to videotape my dreams.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Ears on fire! 3.15.11 edition (candyrat)
Ewan Dobson!
Son of a (expletive deleted)ing (expletive deleted) on a (expletive deleted)ing pogo stick!!!!!
Whew!
I came across this video [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eXqPYte8tvc ]
How does he make an acoustic sound like that?!!??!?!??!???!??
After watching it about 15 times and checking out his myspace page [http://www.myspace.com/ewanguitar ] I decided to play “link-frog” ( it’s kinda like leapfrog ‘cept with links. Ya know one link leads me to another link leads me to another link and so forth.)
Well, my 2nd frog landed me here:
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTO5XdvXd1I&feature=relmfu]
I was stunned nearly unconscious by the harmonics around 1:47 into the tune and had he not repeated the part at around the 2:40 mark, I would still doubt that I had seen/heard it. Then this happened [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWOIMiqhlN0 ]
After about an hour of just this guy freaking I thought I should avoid having my head explode by listening to someone else.
Which led me to frog over to this guy:"Jimmy Wahlsteen - Rapid Eye Moment"[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=97czMjuAnSA&NR=1 ].
So much for the head not exploding.
Then I noticed that both of these guys are on a label called Candyrat. [www.candyrat.com]
The amount of talent showcased by this label is PRODICULOUS!
Just load the Candyrat solo acoustic guitar playlist [http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=447B977301B3AB7D] and listen until u either have to stop to practice, stop to weep, or stop to apologize to your guitar for abusing up until now and not allowing it to live up to it's fullest potential.
It’s difficult to even write this posting whilst listening to this playlist because I want to tell u about everything; such as the "Don Ross - Crazy (Gnarls Barkley)" clip or the "Antoine Dufour - To Run in a Dream" clip where I'm almost positive that I saw the spirit of Michael Hedges dance and sing.
Each of the vids is worth the listen.
In fact I'm going to go back to listening now.
Enjoy…
ps - THANK YOU CANDYRAT!
(tabs are available at the candyrat website if u wanna attempt any of this)
Son of a (expletive deleted)ing (expletive deleted) on a (expletive deleted)ing pogo stick!!!!!
Whew!
I came across this video [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eXqPYte8tvc ]
How does he make an acoustic sound like that?!!??!?!??!???!??
After watching it about 15 times and checking out his myspace page [http://www.myspace.com/ewanguitar ] I decided to play “link-frog” ( it’s kinda like leapfrog ‘cept with links. Ya know one link leads me to another link leads me to another link and so forth.)
Well, my 2nd frog landed me here:
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTO5XdvXd1I&feature=relmfu]
I was stunned nearly unconscious by the harmonics around 1:47 into the tune and had he not repeated the part at around the 2:40 mark, I would still doubt that I had seen/heard it. Then this happened [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWOIMiqhlN0 ]
After about an hour of just this guy freaking I thought I should avoid having my head explode by listening to someone else.
Which led me to frog over to this guy:"Jimmy Wahlsteen - Rapid Eye Moment"[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=97czMjuAnSA&NR=1 ].
So much for the head not exploding.
Then I noticed that both of these guys are on a label called Candyrat. [www.candyrat.com]
The amount of talent showcased by this label is PRODICULOUS!
Just load the Candyrat solo acoustic guitar playlist [http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=447B977301B3AB7D] and listen until u either have to stop to practice, stop to weep, or stop to apologize to your guitar for abusing up until now and not allowing it to live up to it's fullest potential.
It’s difficult to even write this posting whilst listening to this playlist because I want to tell u about everything; such as the "Don Ross - Crazy (Gnarls Barkley)" clip or the "Antoine Dufour - To Run in a Dream" clip where I'm almost positive that I saw the spirit of Michael Hedges dance and sing.
Each of the vids is worth the listen.
In fact I'm going to go back to listening now.
Enjoy…
ps - THANK YOU CANDYRAT!
(tabs are available at the candyrat website if u wanna attempt any of this)
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
no burger for me...
So there I was riding shotgun as jon favreau drove a late model 4-door truck of some kind.
He was sipping water thru a straw out of a clear insulated cup and the scene began with him saying, “…and the funny thing is that he really was chasing Uncle Ryan.” We both kinda laugh (him moreso than me) and then I tell him that that sounds like something I’d write down and then later make a movie about in my head.
He became amused. “You can make a whole movie out of 3 words? Ha, I’d like to see that work.”
So I begin, “Well, it goes down like this. Stars 2 kids fresh outta high school. It’s the summer b4 the go off to college. 2 cousins, Buckley “Buck-Buck” Peterson and Tumeric (yes his parents were wannabe hippie ravers) “Tumer” Sanders have their weekend set for them. Their parents are gone for a few days (of course they’ll luckily get hung up somehow later in the movie) to a couples retreat and have let the 2 cousins to stay at one of their homes with the charge of watching their parents’ physically very able, yet not always mentally connected much older Uncle Ryan who has a history of wandering off if not monitored. The plan is to just deadbolt themselves into the house and have a few days of pizza and chinese delivery to fuel their online first person shooter festivals (or rock band or dj hero or whatever game is the newest at the time.) this is all fine and good…until on day 2, one of the boys gets an onscreen notification that this girl he’s had the hots for just found out that she is moving across the country and really wanted to “say her good-byes” b4 she left. What to do, what to do? Turns out that she is going that day to a local amusement park for the day and night to see a concert by (insert up and coming yet not super well known artists here). The poor decision to take Uncle Ryan to an amusement park is made. Of course just after they get there and have a instant message convo with the girls, they look up and uncle Ryan has wandered off. Thus it begins. Of course Uncle Ryan is wearing a local sports team jersey and it’s that team’s biggest game of the year that day so 65% of the people there are wearing the same ish that Ryan is. Oh no… so the day unfolds with they boys narrowly missing catching up with uncle Ryan over and over whilst also trying to hook up with the girls for the one’s “good-bye session” it all apexes with the couples literally bumping into/ falling all over each other at the same time as Uncle Ryan wandering on stage to launch the concert by yelling, ‘RELEASE THE KRACKEN!!!!’
The 4 kids all get to go up on stage/backstage afterwards and all get signed shirts and such. All ends well. The girl decides to tell the guy that if he’s willing to wait, she’ll bring him back the best Christmas present ever. So the movie kinda ends there. Fades anyway. Then opens on Christmas season with a knock on a door. The one cousin opens it to find the girl standing there. She opens her full length coat to display a t-shirt that has a large bow printed on it above the words, ‘merry Christmas, unwrap this!’. He pulls her into the door and slams it. Fade to the other cousin getting a delivery in the mail. He opens it and laughs. The camer pans to show that it is the new cd from ‘that band from the summer’. On the cover is Uncle Ryan fist in the air on stage at that summer show. He pulls out the booklet and starts flipping thru it. Cue credits. The pages of the booklet are scenes from the movie and are also the closing credts. Things totally end with a video of the band on stage somewhere with Uncle Ryan wandering around the stage. He runs and stage dives. Shot stops with him in mid air. Crowd cheers screen goes black.”
Favreau takes a sip of water, says a very short yet very profane sentence about 3 words and then pulls into a drive thru. He orders a burger and tells me that I'm paying for it.
When we get to the window, he pulls out a credit card and hands it to the cashier. When they hand it back, he hands it to me. It’s just a Visa gift card. He tells me, “I’ll trade ya this for that story.”
I ask him how much is on it.
He simply says, “just try and max it out.” We drive off. No burger for me…
He was sipping water thru a straw out of a clear insulated cup and the scene began with him saying, “…and the funny thing is that he really was chasing Uncle Ryan.” We both kinda laugh (him moreso than me) and then I tell him that that sounds like something I’d write down and then later make a movie about in my head.
He became amused. “You can make a whole movie out of 3 words? Ha, I’d like to see that work.”
So I begin, “Well, it goes down like this. Stars 2 kids fresh outta high school. It’s the summer b4 the go off to college. 2 cousins, Buckley “Buck-Buck” Peterson and Tumeric (yes his parents were wannabe hippie ravers) “Tumer” Sanders have their weekend set for them. Their parents are gone for a few days (of course they’ll luckily get hung up somehow later in the movie) to a couples retreat and have let the 2 cousins to stay at one of their homes with the charge of watching their parents’ physically very able, yet not always mentally connected much older Uncle Ryan who has a history of wandering off if not monitored. The plan is to just deadbolt themselves into the house and have a few days of pizza and chinese delivery to fuel their online first person shooter festivals (or rock band or dj hero or whatever game is the newest at the time.) this is all fine and good…until on day 2, one of the boys gets an onscreen notification that this girl he’s had the hots for just found out that she is moving across the country and really wanted to “say her good-byes” b4 she left. What to do, what to do? Turns out that she is going that day to a local amusement park for the day and night to see a concert by (insert up and coming yet not super well known artists here). The poor decision to take Uncle Ryan to an amusement park is made. Of course just after they get there and have a instant message convo with the girls, they look up and uncle Ryan has wandered off. Thus it begins. Of course Uncle Ryan is wearing a local sports team jersey and it’s that team’s biggest game of the year that day so 65% of the people there are wearing the same ish that Ryan is. Oh no… so the day unfolds with they boys narrowly missing catching up with uncle Ryan over and over whilst also trying to hook up with the girls for the one’s “good-bye session” it all apexes with the couples literally bumping into/ falling all over each other at the same time as Uncle Ryan wandering on stage to launch the concert by yelling, ‘RELEASE THE KRACKEN!!!!’
The 4 kids all get to go up on stage/backstage afterwards and all get signed shirts and such. All ends well. The girl decides to tell the guy that if he’s willing to wait, she’ll bring him back the best Christmas present ever. So the movie kinda ends there. Fades anyway. Then opens on Christmas season with a knock on a door. The one cousin opens it to find the girl standing there. She opens her full length coat to display a t-shirt that has a large bow printed on it above the words, ‘merry Christmas, unwrap this!’. He pulls her into the door and slams it. Fade to the other cousin getting a delivery in the mail. He opens it and laughs. The camer pans to show that it is the new cd from ‘that band from the summer’. On the cover is Uncle Ryan fist in the air on stage at that summer show. He pulls out the booklet and starts flipping thru it. Cue credits. The pages of the booklet are scenes from the movie and are also the closing credts. Things totally end with a video of the band on stage somewhere with Uncle Ryan wandering around the stage. He runs and stage dives. Shot stops with him in mid air. Crowd cheers screen goes black.”
Favreau takes a sip of water, says a very short yet very profane sentence about 3 words and then pulls into a drive thru. He orders a burger and tells me that I'm paying for it.
When we get to the window, he pulls out a credit card and hands it to the cashier. When they hand it back, he hands it to me. It’s just a Visa gift card. He tells me, “I’ll trade ya this for that story.”
I ask him how much is on it.
He simply says, “just try and max it out.” We drive off. No burger for me…
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Ears on fire! 3.2.11 edition
Was just given the gift of song by good friend Danimal Thompson. It’s from his newest sonic development, “Two Goats and Their Money “ which, in addition to Dan, features the creative minds of Andrew Dawson (who you may remember from Anhedron) and Christopher Branco .
I was told that it’s the last track of about a 47 minute piece of music written by Chris B. that for now is simply called, “track 10”
Upon first listen, I thought, “nice multi-ethnic vibes“
Upon 4th listen I thought…
I really like it.
It’s very …moustached man in a convertible with barefooted, sundressed female curled up in the passenger seat driving along coastal highway in a European town.
Life is probably in black & white and this audio has replaced the actual audio of reality.
U can clearly watch the scene as the guy looks over at the female, makes a sound of amused concern and then hears this music in his head as the waves crash over nearby rocks.
His only thought is, "will i be in time?"
Yet he is not speeding as he drives. He doesn’t want to disturb this moment.
And yes…he will be on time.
To view this sonic vignette, visit the following link:
"Track 10"
Enjoy…
ps if the link doesn't work: http://soundcloud.com/darphonic/song-10?utm_source=soundcloud
I was told that it’s the last track of about a 47 minute piece of music written by Chris B. that for now is simply called, “track 10”
Upon first listen, I thought, “nice multi-ethnic vibes“
Upon 4th listen I thought…
I really like it.
It’s very …moustached man in a convertible with barefooted, sundressed female curled up in the passenger seat driving along coastal highway in a European town.
Life is probably in black & white and this audio has replaced the actual audio of reality.
U can clearly watch the scene as the guy looks over at the female, makes a sound of amused concern and then hears this music in his head as the waves crash over nearby rocks.
His only thought is, "will i be in time?"
Yet he is not speeding as he drives. He doesn’t want to disturb this moment.
And yes…he will be on time.
To view this sonic vignette, visit the following link:
"Track 10"
Enjoy…
ps if the link doesn't work: http://soundcloud.com/darphonic/song-10?utm_source=soundcloud
Sunday, February 27, 2011
intoxicate
I wish I could intoxicate
U like I used to
With words & songs &
dreams of passion
Variant mood
somber
sublime
& a 3 ring tractor pull
of diamond dowries
if I could dance back the world
to a moment &
spin it slower to watch u smile
I’d hold your heart
and listen to the symphony
of your breath
till it drunkened me
& I could be as intoxicated
by u as you were
by me…
U like I used to
With words & songs &
dreams of passion
Variant mood
somber
sublime
& a 3 ring tractor pull
of diamond dowries
if I could dance back the world
to a moment &
spin it slower to watch u smile
I’d hold your heart
and listen to the symphony
of your breath
till it drunkened me
& I could be as intoxicated
by u as you were
by me…
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Stones in my Dome
Stones in my dome of both fire and ice
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
As they crash and they smash and they bash ev’rything
I reach for my bottle of sweet as-per-ring.
Blinded by sight as I search for the dark
I'm driven by pain, when I just want to park
Can I lay on my face for a bit just to dream?
But a whisper grows crisper until I just scream
The flood of the blood flowing warn through my veins
Is a thundering herd on a bisonous range
And try as I might to just silence the roar,
The growling and prowling is all that’s in store…
Stones in my dome of both fire and ice
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
As they crash and they smash and they bash ev’rything
I reach for my bottle of sweet as-per-ring.
I think about softness and quiet and clouds
Instead I get buddy rich pounding out loud
The harder I focus to pinpoint relief,
The more I feel slam-danced by whole sides of beef.
The tiniest, shiniest things are the worst
But those are the things that my gaze seeks out first
They hodge-podge’ly lodge themselves into my pain
Then arrow, like sparrows, to nest in my brain
Like a call down the hall of the tallest of all abyss
I fall and I fall and I fall till I swing and I miss
Morphine’s kiss
Stones in my dome of both fire and ice
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
As they crash and they smash and they bash ev’rything
I reach for my bottle and still I will sing…
Stones in my dome of both fire and ice
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
I’d pay for release, but I don’t know the price.
These stones, bounce around like spiked carnival dice
And I’ve crapped out…
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
As they crash and they smash and they bash ev’rything
I reach for my bottle of sweet as-per-ring.
Blinded by sight as I search for the dark
I'm driven by pain, when I just want to park
Can I lay on my face for a bit just to dream?
But a whisper grows crisper until I just scream
The flood of the blood flowing warn through my veins
Is a thundering herd on a bisonous range
And try as I might to just silence the roar,
The growling and prowling is all that’s in store…
Stones in my dome of both fire and ice
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
As they crash and they smash and they bash ev’rything
I reach for my bottle of sweet as-per-ring.
I think about softness and quiet and clouds
Instead I get buddy rich pounding out loud
The harder I focus to pinpoint relief,
The more I feel slam-danced by whole sides of beef.
The tiniest, shiniest things are the worst
But those are the things that my gaze seeks out first
They hodge-podge’ly lodge themselves into my pain
Then arrow, like sparrows, to nest in my brain
Like a call down the hall of the tallest of all abyss
I fall and I fall and I fall till I swing and I miss
Morphine’s kiss
Stones in my dome of both fire and ice
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
As they crash and they smash and they bash ev’rything
I reach for my bottle and still I will sing…
Stones in my dome of both fire and ice
They roll and they bowl but they never play nice
I’d pay for release, but I don’t know the price.
These stones, bounce around like spiked carnival dice
And I’ve crapped out…
Saturday, February 12, 2011
smoke in her hand...
Sitting on the curb, rock salt at her feet,
She’s the prettiest girl that u could never ever meet.
She’s the prettiest girl that u could never ever meet,
Because she doesn’t even really exist.
Right there on the curb with a smoke in her hand,
With a smoke in her hand, she’s making a plan.
But she never flicks the ashes from the smoke in her hand
‘cause it isn’t even there in her fist.
Blink of an eye and she’s gone from this world.
Blink of an eye and I don’t see a girl
Not a girl on the curb with a smoke in her hand
So I guess that she could not have been missed.
So the curb and the air, the rock salt and the stare
That’s the stare at a girl who was never even there
With a smoke in her hand and a plan and a care
Was she there? Or had it all just been wished?
She’s the prettiest girl that u could never ever meet.
She’s the prettiest girl that u could never ever meet,
Because she doesn’t even really exist.
Right there on the curb with a smoke in her hand,
With a smoke in her hand, she’s making a plan.
But she never flicks the ashes from the smoke in her hand
‘cause it isn’t even there in her fist.
Blink of an eye and she’s gone from this world.
Blink of an eye and I don’t see a girl
Not a girl on the curb with a smoke in her hand
So I guess that she could not have been missed.
So the curb and the air, the rock salt and the stare
That’s the stare at a girl who was never even there
With a smoke in her hand and a plan and a care
Was she there? Or had it all just been wished?
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Disgusting Drinks for Designated Drivers
There was a period in my life where every Friday and Saturday night involved me driving lotsa inebriated cohorts home from various soirees. All of this commuting caused me to build up quite the thirst, however since I knew I was gonna be DD’ing my night away I never ‘sipped the sauce’.
This did not keep me from having an interesting night of libation consumption of my own. I used to entertain myself by evaluating what side dish-mixers were available and mingling up some elixirs of my own design.
In my heart, I know that none of these will land me a starring role on Food Network as honestly, most of these turned out to be rather revolting (hence the name of this post), but some of them surprised with their tastiness.
I recently came across an old journal where I’d kept a listing of these concoctions. I will share these creations with you today. I believe that I consumed each of these at least once (some more than once). I will not try to sway you by confessing which ones were proven to be palatable, discovering this information on your own is 78% of the fun. The resulting 22% is derived from enticing a nearby trusting soul into trying one that revealed itself to be extra foul. But, I wash my hands of that. That’s all on you.
And now on with the list:
Lecherous Monk = Coke + OJ
Sweaty Dog = sweet tea + 7-up + dash of salt
Bitter Biscuit = Dr. Pepper + OJ
Bitter Bagel = Dr. Pepper + Sunny D
Skinny Cat = Sprite + OJ
Skinny Rat = Sprite + Sunny D
Bushy Foot = crushed pineapple + maraschino cherry juice + soda of choice
Shinsplint = grapefruit juice + grape soda (with a sugared rim)
Sock Butt = Coke + Kool-ade (any flavor) + Sunny D
Fat Hagget = tspn of honey + coke + water + dash of salt
Horny Nun = coke + Sunny D
Bloody Yak = maraschino cherry juice + OJ + olive
Sweet Rabbit = Coke + water + lemon juice
Hoesmack = Nehi(yes it must be Nehi) peach soda + OJ
Lacy’s Southside Hoe = tomato juice + brown sugar*
*(ok, somebody else came up with this one so I never tasted it)
The building blocks of these gastronomic behemoths included whatever was lying about at the various social gatherings. I challenge you all to addend this list with non-alcoholic sublimations of your own. Perhaps if I can amass enough of them…just perhaps Food Network will take notice.
This did not keep me from having an interesting night of libation consumption of my own. I used to entertain myself by evaluating what side dish-mixers were available and mingling up some elixirs of my own design.
In my heart, I know that none of these will land me a starring role on Food Network as honestly, most of these turned out to be rather revolting (hence the name of this post), but some of them surprised with their tastiness.
I recently came across an old journal where I’d kept a listing of these concoctions. I will share these creations with you today. I believe that I consumed each of these at least once (some more than once). I will not try to sway you by confessing which ones were proven to be palatable, discovering this information on your own is 78% of the fun. The resulting 22% is derived from enticing a nearby trusting soul into trying one that revealed itself to be extra foul. But, I wash my hands of that. That’s all on you.
And now on with the list:
Lecherous Monk = Coke + OJ
Sweaty Dog = sweet tea + 7-up + dash of salt
Bitter Biscuit = Dr. Pepper + OJ
Bitter Bagel = Dr. Pepper + Sunny D
Skinny Cat = Sprite + OJ
Skinny Rat = Sprite + Sunny D
Bushy Foot = crushed pineapple + maraschino cherry juice + soda of choice
Shinsplint = grapefruit juice + grape soda (with a sugared rim)
Sock Butt = Coke + Kool-ade (any flavor) + Sunny D
Fat Hagget = tspn of honey + coke + water + dash of salt
Horny Nun = coke + Sunny D
Bloody Yak = maraschino cherry juice + OJ + olive
Sweet Rabbit = Coke + water + lemon juice
Hoesmack = Nehi(yes it must be Nehi) peach soda + OJ
Lacy’s Southside Hoe = tomato juice + brown sugar*
*(ok, somebody else came up with this one so I never tasted it)
The building blocks of these gastronomic behemoths included whatever was lying about at the various social gatherings. I challenge you all to addend this list with non-alcoholic sublimations of your own. Perhaps if I can amass enough of them…just perhaps Food Network will take notice.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Been a Long Time...
chorus:
- been a long time comin' home to you
- been a long time comin' home to you
- got the sun on my back, the moon on my face
- wind in my hair, the rain in it's place
- been a long time comin' home to you
I left the summer of my winter home
people waved as I left, but didn't notice I was gone
I set adrift in a tree top
as I struggled down hill, hit the gas so I could stop
disappeared from a photograph
as I lost everything that i never ever had
packed a pocketfull of emptiness
made a blindfold of memories to organize my mess
- [chorus]
walked free from a locked cage
and I found alot of peace as I focused on my rage
won a chance on a sure thing
ate a hand full of bees just to listen to the sweet sting
spun a globe in my mind's eye
and I named each city as I watched it pass by
all roads lead to somewhere
but the places that they lead to are places I don't care for
- [chorus]
- been a long time comin' home to you
- been a long time comin' home to you
- got the sun on my back, the moon on my face
- wind in my hair, the rain in it's place
- been a long time comin' home to you
I left the summer of my winter home
people waved as I left, but didn't notice I was gone
I set adrift in a tree top
as I struggled down hill, hit the gas so I could stop
disappeared from a photograph
as I lost everything that i never ever had
packed a pocketfull of emptiness
made a blindfold of memories to organize my mess
- [chorus]
walked free from a locked cage
and I found alot of peace as I focused on my rage
won a chance on a sure thing
ate a hand full of bees just to listen to the sweet sting
spun a globe in my mind's eye
and I named each city as I watched it pass by
all roads lead to somewhere
but the places that they lead to are places I don't care for
- [chorus]
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
...so there I was...#7: 'the chick of destiny'
…so there I was, handcuffed to destiny. That’s destiny, not Destiny; I was not handcuffed to somebody named Destiny.
I Was handcuffed to somebody named Hank. At least that’s the name she gave the state trooper. I'm not saying that she was lying. We were back to back so I hadn’t seen her, but something about the way she’d said, “Well…some folks call me, Hank” made me have my doubts.
As the trooper walked away, I could feel her pressing back against me like she was up to something. I was hoping so.
Her hair fell across my shoulders; emerald green with blonde highlights over the left and a deep auburn with just a tint of purple over the right.
She lurched and I heard something full of small parts crash to the ground near us.
And then her voice, quiet and deliberate, was pouring into my left ear.
“Look”, she said, ”it’s been real, but it’s about time I get going on my way; but it don’t mean I don’t love you. Things are probably gonna get a little loud here in a minute and u might get a little hurt.”
Later, I thought that this woulda been a perfect time to have joked that you always hurt the ones you love. But honestly, I’d never met this person before now, and plus I was a little too curious about what was about to happen when things got, as she put it, “loud.” So I just sat quietly and listened.
“For what’s probably about to happen to you, I'm gonna go ahead and say this this the only time I ever will…I'm sorry.”
That was 8 months ago and she’s never said those 2 words again. Sure, there have been many times when she probably should have said them, but after all we’ve been through, she doesn’t have to.
I Was handcuffed to somebody named Hank. At least that’s the name she gave the state trooper. I'm not saying that she was lying. We were back to back so I hadn’t seen her, but something about the way she’d said, “Well…some folks call me, Hank” made me have my doubts.
As the trooper walked away, I could feel her pressing back against me like she was up to something. I was hoping so.
Her hair fell across my shoulders; emerald green with blonde highlights over the left and a deep auburn with just a tint of purple over the right.
She lurched and I heard something full of small parts crash to the ground near us.
And then her voice, quiet and deliberate, was pouring into my left ear.
“Look”, she said, ”it’s been real, but it’s about time I get going on my way; but it don’t mean I don’t love you. Things are probably gonna get a little loud here in a minute and u might get a little hurt.”
Later, I thought that this woulda been a perfect time to have joked that you always hurt the ones you love. But honestly, I’d never met this person before now, and plus I was a little too curious about what was about to happen when things got, as she put it, “loud.” So I just sat quietly and listened.
“For what’s probably about to happen to you, I'm gonna go ahead and say this this the only time I ever will…I'm sorry.”
That was 8 months ago and she’s never said those 2 words again. Sure, there have been many times when she probably should have said them, but after all we’ve been through, she doesn’t have to.
Monday, January 31, 2011
An open letter to Monday mornings: Battle rap version
Releasing chunks from sucker punk’s cheeks;
Like a beast, I feast.
I’ll have u thirsty for some mercy
pleading, “please, sir. peace…”
when I'm done spraying sayings, u’ll pray
that I’ll be deceased.
I’ll send u walking with your Jesus.
Call me Kanye East.
From the east to the west,
You’re the least, I'm the best.
Never sleep. Never rest.
I'm the priest; you’re possessed.
U want peace? I'm your stress.
I'm angry bees on your flesh.
Like a knee to the chest,
I’ll relieve you of breath.
I detest you, confess fool.
I'm blessed fresh and dressed cool.
U mess with the rest
and then guess I'm impressed? Dude…
I press thru your tests too.
I question your quest. Who
do u think I am? Sam I am?
I make Fett drool.
Depressed? Ooooh, I hex you
with cess pools, check 1,2’s
and force fed duress pools
of jet fuel and pet gruel.
…so….
U’d best check your spex. Use
Complex tools, like med school.
Reflect on the mess
I suppress like Atreyu.
Like a beast, I feast.
I’ll have u thirsty for some mercy
pleading, “please, sir. peace…”
when I'm done spraying sayings, u’ll pray
that I’ll be deceased.
I’ll send u walking with your Jesus.
Call me Kanye East.
From the east to the west,
You’re the least, I'm the best.
Never sleep. Never rest.
I'm the priest; you’re possessed.
U want peace? I'm your stress.
I'm angry bees on your flesh.
Like a knee to the chest,
I’ll relieve you of breath.
I detest you, confess fool.
I'm blessed fresh and dressed cool.
U mess with the rest
and then guess I'm impressed? Dude…
I press thru your tests too.
I question your quest. Who
do u think I am? Sam I am?
I make Fett drool.
Depressed? Ooooh, I hex you
with cess pools, check 1,2’s
and force fed duress pools
of jet fuel and pet gruel.
…so….
U’d best check your spex. Use
Complex tools, like med school.
Reflect on the mess
I suppress like Atreyu.
Friday, January 28, 2011
ka-boomed from the start...
My dream chronicled (and I mean that in the most tediously tedious way possible) the lives of 2 people, who I’ll call Stella and Ella (they didn’t really have names in the dream).
Stella was an Asian recently-ish single mother of a toddler who thought most things were louder than they needed to be.
Ella dealt with her chronic insomnia by creating spreadsheets documenting all of the ways she’s come up with to catalog, index and organize her already massive, yet ever increasing collection of professional grade floor tile samples.
A huge portion of the main scene from the dream that I remember dealt with the 2 main characters returning to a bar where they’d in the last week or so come to find that they loved karaoke. In tow with them was (I’ll call him) Luke (also had no name) a buddy of theirs from somewhere who’s pre-teen daughter would sometimes watch Stella’s toddler.
The night was unfolding to reveal that although Stella and Ella abso-lutely loved their karaoke experience, they were actually rather poor performers. So poor in fact that they had gotten a round of applause when they returned to the bar and a few patrons had designed hand made fan shirts.
Things progressed with Luke failing to convince them that they should neither perform their dream set of maroon5, abba, o-town, with a rick james closer; nor should they engage in keg stands in their sadly chosen clothing choices..
My alarm broke me from this world just after Ella (having fallen during her keg stand after realizing that she both didn’t like Killian’s red nor did she like her loose fitting blouse falling up to flash the mob) had her injured arm hastily bandaged with boards from a wine case and electrical tape…and right before the 2 misfit heroines stepped up to the karaoke screens that would undoubtedly extend their american idol spotlighted reject level of infamy.
So tell me…how do you think I slept?
Stella was an Asian recently-ish single mother of a toddler who thought most things were louder than they needed to be.
Ella dealt with her chronic insomnia by creating spreadsheets documenting all of the ways she’s come up with to catalog, index and organize her already massive, yet ever increasing collection of professional grade floor tile samples.
A huge portion of the main scene from the dream that I remember dealt with the 2 main characters returning to a bar where they’d in the last week or so come to find that they loved karaoke. In tow with them was (I’ll call him) Luke (also had no name) a buddy of theirs from somewhere who’s pre-teen daughter would sometimes watch Stella’s toddler.
The night was unfolding to reveal that although Stella and Ella abso-lutely loved their karaoke experience, they were actually rather poor performers. So poor in fact that they had gotten a round of applause when they returned to the bar and a few patrons had designed hand made fan shirts.
Things progressed with Luke failing to convince them that they should neither perform their dream set of maroon5, abba, o-town, with a rick james closer; nor should they engage in keg stands in their sadly chosen clothing choices..
My alarm broke me from this world just after Ella (having fallen during her keg stand after realizing that she both didn’t like Killian’s red nor did she like her loose fitting blouse falling up to flash the mob) had her injured arm hastily bandaged with boards from a wine case and electrical tape…and right before the 2 misfit heroines stepped up to the karaoke screens that would undoubtedly extend their american idol spotlighted reject level of infamy.
So tell me…how do you think I slept?
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Roanoke pt. 2
The snowy days are spent gathering wood for the evening fires; fires that once roasted game for celebratory feasts. This winter brings few things to celebrate. The snows make the nights too long and “They” always, always come at night. The bleak cracks of day bring little solace. No longer are the days filled with the gain of our harvest. No longer do we gather together for prayer with a stern word for someone late or absent. Now the gathering prayers are filled with memorial words for the missing faces.
The face I miss most belongs to the good captain. I should’ve held his hand and chose to travel back across the seas. Father always said that a simple choice would change my life. Little did he know that his simple choice, one born out of neighborly kindness, might actually end his life; and not only his but all of ours as well.
The face I miss most belongs to the good captain. I should’ve held his hand and chose to travel back across the seas. Father always said that a simple choice would change my life. Little did he know that his simple choice, one born out of neighborly kindness, might actually end his life; and not only his but all of ours as well.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Roanoke: pt 1
It was the sound that I imagined angel's wings would make. A roar I heard not in my ears, but deep inside the hole where I hide my darkest fears.
That winter the night moaned with a sinister gale that filled the frost bitter air with a sourness that my fright-crippled mind mis-perceived to smell like twisted promises and lost hopes.
I think that what I really wanted was to hope that they were angels as a feeble defense against what I knew in my broken heart to true.
These creatures; these beasts crawl from nightmares. They swoop upon us, punctuating unsettlingly still nights with unearthly wailing as another colonist is dragged from their loyal flocks and loving family.
These things; these are abominations.
THESE ARE NOT ANGELS...
That winter the night moaned with a sinister gale that filled the frost bitter air with a sourness that my fright-crippled mind mis-perceived to smell like twisted promises and lost hopes.
I think that what I really wanted was to hope that they were angels as a feeble defense against what I knew in my broken heart to true.
These creatures; these beasts crawl from nightmares. They swoop upon us, punctuating unsettlingly still nights with unearthly wailing as another colonist is dragged from their loyal flocks and loving family.
These things; these are abominations.
THESE ARE NOT ANGELS...
The Girl With the Tattooed Neck - pt 2
Scunny snapped to consciousness. It was the same snap as the twig under the heel of a closing pursuer and filled him with the same amount of comfort and solace as the snap of forearm bones courtesy of a jr. high bully. Never the less, it brought him back to wakefulness. Scunny was torn as to whether or not that was a good thing. Lately he could barely call what he’d just awoke from, sleep. It was in no way restful or recuperative and it’d be an offense to all nightmares to call them dreams. He’d been conscripted as the sole punch bunny in a continuing series of the most horrible intimate scenarios his subconscious could seem to scrape up. The happiest of which came yesterday afternoon wherein he was the single survivor of an overturned bus accident and he had to lay pinned beneath the twisted hemorrhaging bodies of all of his once closest friends and relatives. It was the least horrific of the recent lot because at least one of the faces had received a wound a la the joker and he tried to lie to himself that it was a real smile. He had to lie to himself in his dreams. What a wonderful life.
At least today wasn’t rainy. That meant he could somewhat stealthily hunt down that girl with the neck tattoo with no worry of public steaming to draw attention. Instead today was a hundred % sun-shiney.
Since “then” sunny weather feels sub-zero to Scunny and that Slayer hoodie was all he had to fight it away. He kept to the shadows when he could and ran shivering when he couldn’t. Like I said; ‘somewhat stealthily’.
Scunny made his way back through Overtown and past Ambassador Park on his way to Packy Lawson’s place. Maybe Packy or somebody Packy knew had something on that girl. ‘What was her name?’ Scunny asked himself during one of those sun-chilling jogs.
If Packy didn’t know anything, he’d hit up Rob Raven’s tattoo shop down on Mackenzie. That neck tattoo looked kinda tribal and very custom. If anybody would know about it it’d be Rob Raven. He knew any and everything about ink. He even had the quill they signed the declaration with he was so into rare ink.
So the plan was Packy’s, then Raven’s all while avoiding the sun and sleep.
That night when he was hooking up with that girl with the tattoo neck he’d thought, “my life has finally become a dream movie.” But since then nothing has been farther from the truth.
At least today wasn’t rainy. That meant he could somewhat stealthily hunt down that girl with the neck tattoo with no worry of public steaming to draw attention. Instead today was a hundred % sun-shiney.
Since “then” sunny weather feels sub-zero to Scunny and that Slayer hoodie was all he had to fight it away. He kept to the shadows when he could and ran shivering when he couldn’t. Like I said; ‘somewhat stealthily’.
Scunny made his way back through Overtown and past Ambassador Park on his way to Packy Lawson’s place. Maybe Packy or somebody Packy knew had something on that girl. ‘What was her name?’ Scunny asked himself during one of those sun-chilling jogs.
If Packy didn’t know anything, he’d hit up Rob Raven’s tattoo shop down on Mackenzie. That neck tattoo looked kinda tribal and very custom. If anybody would know about it it’d be Rob Raven. He knew any and everything about ink. He even had the quill they signed the declaration with he was so into rare ink.
So the plan was Packy’s, then Raven’s all while avoiding the sun and sleep.
That night when he was hooking up with that girl with the tattoo neck he’d thought, “my life has finally become a dream movie.” But since then nothing has been farther from the truth.
so there i was...#6 (part 2)
...and just like that, it was done.Lives had been changed forever and my beach front condo in eternal damnation had been secured.
One hand still quivering with well deserved and heftily earned guilt hung at my side as I braced the other hand against the beer and vomit rusted corrugated metal wall that stretched down that side of the alley.
I rose slowly and apologetically. My head whipped to the side looking for whatever had made the suspicious noise that i was wishing I could have heard right at that moment. Then it all would've been like a movie and I could just sit still, wait for the credits and slip out with the innocents into the darkened lobby.
But this was no movie, despite its marked horror, and I'd heard no such sound; mysterious or otherwise.
It was as if even sound itself didn't want to associate itself with what had just happened here. There was nothing to ever cloud my memory of the event; no flickering lights, passing cars or errant sounds. No other conscious being, through whose perception, I could fog my own recollection. No, I was alone in my utter honesty of what I had just done.
At full posture I looked down at my deed, wishing I could have felt something. And when I couldn't...I turned and walked away; into a pitch blackness that virtually beamed compared to my recent darkness.
2 minuted from now, there'd be no trace. Nobody would know that I had even been there...
2 hours later, half the world would know of what I'd done and 2 decades later lives polluted by my hand would still be broken.
One hand still quivering with well deserved and heftily earned guilt hung at my side as I braced the other hand against the beer and vomit rusted corrugated metal wall that stretched down that side of the alley.
I rose slowly and apologetically. My head whipped to the side looking for whatever had made the suspicious noise that i was wishing I could have heard right at that moment. Then it all would've been like a movie and I could just sit still, wait for the credits and slip out with the innocents into the darkened lobby.
But this was no movie, despite its marked horror, and I'd heard no such sound; mysterious or otherwise.
It was as if even sound itself didn't want to associate itself with what had just happened here. There was nothing to ever cloud my memory of the event; no flickering lights, passing cars or errant sounds. No other conscious being, through whose perception, I could fog my own recollection. No, I was alone in my utter honesty of what I had just done.
At full posture I looked down at my deed, wishing I could have felt something. And when I couldn't...I turned and walked away; into a pitch blackness that virtually beamed compared to my recent darkness.
2 minuted from now, there'd be no trace. Nobody would know that I had even been there...
2 hours later, half the world would know of what I'd done and 2 decades later lives polluted by my hand would still be broken.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
insomnia...
insomnia...
insomnia old man
let me take u by the hand
as u dance me round and round
till the moon, she comin down
lead me on your lonesome walk
preach to me your Folsom talk
insomnia, insomnia, insomnia
screaming whispers in my face
pass no dreams into my grace
will i ever win your race?
insomnia
have no prayers for the sun
i sit awaiting ev'ry one
got Churchill's black dog on the run
insomnia
insomnia old girl
got me floating in your world
by the river's muddy deep
poor man Buckley lost his feet
will the sweetness of the dream
ever cut your bitter sting?
insomnia, insomnia, insomnia
(chorus)
toss and turn or do i sit
curse at you and beg u quit
Sisyphus rut in my pit
your stone keeps rollin
up and down, then down and up
with your never empty cup
your feast of famine where i sup
till soul is swollen...
insomnia old friend
just a kite in your storm's wind
cut the string, let me pretend
that i am flying...
insomnia old man
let me take u by the hand
as u dance me round and round
till the moon, she comin down
lead me on your lonesome walk
preach to me your Folsom talk
insomnia, insomnia, insomnia
screaming whispers in my face
pass no dreams into my grace
will i ever win your race?
insomnia
have no prayers for the sun
i sit awaiting ev'ry one
got Churchill's black dog on the run
insomnia
insomnia old girl
got me floating in your world
by the river's muddy deep
poor man Buckley lost his feet
will the sweetness of the dream
ever cut your bitter sting?
insomnia, insomnia, insomnia
(chorus)
toss and turn or do i sit
curse at you and beg u quit
Sisyphus rut in my pit
your stone keeps rollin
up and down, then down and up
with your never empty cup
your feast of famine where i sup
till soul is swollen...
insomnia old friend
just a kite in your storm's wind
cut the string, let me pretend
that i am flying...
so there i was...#6
so there I was with a sharpie in my hand, standing over this...someone. looking down at this unconscious figure heaped and huddled together in that damp alley. I'm not sure how they had ended up there, nor am I sure that it's even for me to contemplate. All I know is that fortune, great or dis, brought me here to bear witness to this person and, in as much the same degree, brought forth upon the night this thing that I must do. The remote approximation was not lost on me that things were both and completely in my hands (specifically) whilst totally being out of my hands (situationally).
With an inhalation deep enough to engulf the world, I steeled my self, detached my soul and knelt to do what knew I must...
With an inhalation deep enough to engulf the world, I steeled my self, detached my soul and knelt to do what knew I must...
Saturday, January 8, 2011
so there i was...#5
so there I was at chic-fil-a watching through the window as my kid played hide&seek tag with what seemed to be her best friends in the whole world. Best friends that she'd known for all of about 15 minutes; friends of all shapes and sizes; friends with bowl cuts, braids and faux-hawks; friends who were nearly heartbroken when it was time for everyone to go. Through this window I saw hope for a future greater than now in a world where this kind of playground acceptance of open arms and open hearts will be the world that not only they know, but that we all know.
so there i was...#4
So there I was; jokers to the left of me…jokers to the right. But I should’ve expected it since I was at the first Comicon since The Dark Knight came out. However, if 1 more fanboy in line with me for the restroom asks me, “why sssso seeeeeeerioushhh?” I’m gonna unjuggaload a keg of faygo soaked insanity on this clown posse.
so there i was...#3
So there I was, a newly-minted one-day-old college freshmen partaking in that oldest of freshmen dorm traditions, the fire drill...but it wasn’t like the movies .I’d been expecting semi-nude co-eds clenching algebra homework so tightly they’d be unable to hold onto their reservations or inhibitions. But like I said, it wasn’t like that. It was mostly a sausage fest, but then I saw her…there amongst the rest sharply dress in her ever so perfectly stained papa john’s shirt and visor…Esmerelda. Oh my heart did sing that day of the lovely Esmerelda. (read her name tag) In that brief 27 minutes that felt like nearly half an hour, I pined for her. And she pined for her $17.28 that some guy had been heading to his room to get when the alarm sounded. I could’ve stared at her for hours. I mean like from across a bar, not in that direct creepy way. And then the magic happened, our moment in the sun…(really in the sun. like 4:30ish on a Tuesday afternoon)
She looked at me but for a split of a second. Now I don’t know if it was the Ace Ventura 2 boxers or the “Hairdressers do it with do” t-shirt, but she smirked at me and I liked it. I was cranking up the courage to walk over to her and ask about the pizza specials then I heard it…the trumpet of doom for this, our just budding love. She looked away and swore and screamed yes!
My eyes followed hers and I saw it then…the shiny red firetruck. How could I compete with a shiny red fire truck and $17.28 plus tip?
I was crushed and my hatred of people in red suits was cemented…darned fire trucks.
She looked at me but for a split of a second. Now I don’t know if it was the Ace Ventura 2 boxers or the “Hairdressers do it with do” t-shirt, but she smirked at me and I liked it. I was cranking up the courage to walk over to her and ask about the pizza specials then I heard it…the trumpet of doom for this, our just budding love. She looked away and swore and screamed yes!
My eyes followed hers and I saw it then…the shiny red firetruck. How could I compete with a shiny red fire truck and $17.28 plus tip?
I was crushed and my hatred of people in red suits was cemented…darned fire trucks.
Friday, January 7, 2011
so there i was...#2
So there I was doing my weekly water color with my left-over deep fried PB & sardine sandwich, when I looked up and saw the 9-legged half bull/half panda alien with an octopus made of fire for a head. He was roller-skating around the abandoned golf course playing his klezmer cover of “inna godda davida” on his triple neck steam-powered banjo.
Not sure this story is gonna get more awesomer than this.
Not sure this story is gonna get more awesomer than this.
so there i was...#1
So there I was getting the cast cut off of my right foot. The nurse asked how I’d broken it in the first place. So I told her…zombie robot shark ninjas riding monkey dragons were chasing me through my kitchen. I was running to my room where I could jump through a space portal to Giraffe-fish Island where I kept my samurai sword made of frozen gold.
I was doing a side knee elbow kick flip and just as I was about to swing around the table to block some arrows with a pizza cutter, I slipped on the lazer beetles that the zombie robot shark ninjas had released.
I slid, twisted my ankle and as felt the bone snap in my foot I only barely missed being hit by arrows. Luckily I could grab some cans of old possum soup to throw at the zombie robot shark ninja in the front. I hit him right in the neck and his head exploded setting off a chain reaction that destroyed the other zombie robot shark ninjas, the monkey dragons and lazer beetles as well. My family was saved and I got to get extra bacon and pickles on my ice cream pizza.
The end.
I was doing a side knee elbow kick flip and just as I was about to swing around the table to block some arrows with a pizza cutter, I slipped on the lazer beetles that the zombie robot shark ninjas had released.
I slid, twisted my ankle and as felt the bone snap in my foot I only barely missed being hit by arrows. Luckily I could grab some cans of old possum soup to throw at the zombie robot shark ninja in the front. I hit him right in the neck and his head exploded setting off a chain reaction that destroyed the other zombie robot shark ninjas, the monkey dragons and lazer beetles as well. My family was saved and I got to get extra bacon and pickles on my ice cream pizza.
The end.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Ears on fire! 1.6.11 edition
from the sonic masterminds that brought you the highly anticipated and even more highly appreciated "NeveroddoreveN", comes "Long Drive Home". I got a link to the soundcloud.com page[ http://soundcloud.com/longdrivehome ] a little over 24 hours ago and most of my waking listening hours since have been devoted to the tracks there looping to my ever increasingly delighted ears. As with their last submission, the songs have a fresh, edgy sound that i can see appealing to a wide demographic of listeners. The vocals ring out melody lines you'll be trying to sing along to before the song is over. And the harmonies of the guitar riffs intertwine in that oh-so-wonderful way that made their last effort such a joy to listen to and even more enjoy live.
I'm eagerly awaiting the release of this album as i feel it will be well worth the wait.
thanx again guys for truly great music.
I'm eagerly awaiting the release of this album as i feel it will be well worth the wait.
thanx again guys for truly great music.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
ish i think is cool 1.4.11 edition
as i sit here and wait for my new site to upload it self to the server, i'm dropping this bit o' knowledge.
about 2 weeks ago i was perusing one of my favorite locations out in the allwhere netherverse; xkcd.com
whilst there i saw something about a webcomic called Questionable Content. seeing how xkcd makes me laugh, i figured i'd give this other site a chance as well.
so that was tuesday (2 weeks ago tonight)
i started at the beginning and this past sunday i caught up to where he is now.
i caught myself laughing out loud at least 1000 times. sometime so much that i startled people around me.
it has been some of the best and funniest (and actually informative) reading i've done in a long while.
but now i have to wait to see what happens each day instead of reading 40 or 50 pages at a time.
this is gonna be the hardest part.
however if u've got the time and the abdominal muscled to laugh that much i implore you to grab yourself a bottle of "Midnight Hobo" and visit:
http://www.questionablecontent.net/
u won't be sorry...unless u are easily offended by things, then u might wanna just ask me what happens.
listen to some deathmole and learn what professional disdain is really about.
about 2 weeks ago i was perusing one of my favorite locations out in the allwhere netherverse; xkcd.com
whilst there i saw something about a webcomic called Questionable Content. seeing how xkcd makes me laugh, i figured i'd give this other site a chance as well.
so that was tuesday (2 weeks ago tonight)
i started at the beginning and this past sunday i caught up to where he is now.
i caught myself laughing out loud at least 1000 times. sometime so much that i startled people around me.
it has been some of the best and funniest (and actually informative) reading i've done in a long while.
but now i have to wait to see what happens each day instead of reading 40 or 50 pages at a time.
this is gonna be the hardest part.
however if u've got the time and the abdominal muscled to laugh that much i implore you to grab yourself a bottle of "Midnight Hobo" and visit:
http://www.questionablecontent.net/
u won't be sorry...unless u are easily offended by things, then u might wanna just ask me what happens.
listen to some deathmole and learn what professional disdain is really about.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Keller
I was wrongly arrested of a crime I didn’t commit. So was everybody, right? Sounds soooo familiar. Then I was quickly tried, convicted and sentenced to die by the crooked judge who set the whole thing up to cover up some illegal international dealings. That’s a little different, right? No? Well how about this part…I was strapped to the table and given a super induced drug meant to kill and erode my body so that there’d be nothing left in case a decent attorney or righteous judge saw my trial records. However things didn’t go quite as planned. After watching me get injected, the judge and his cronies left the building. A few minutes later things began to go awry. The chemical mixture had an unforeseen effect on my body and caused my head to explode. I know this because I felt it when it happened. It really sucked. Then the weird thing happened, well the first of soon to be many weird things happened. I’d read that after executions or violent deaths, sometimes the victims souls or spirits remain near the body to protect it or seek vengeance. It seems that this is what happened to me; the close part, not the vengeance. And I stayed really close. So close in fact that I never actually left the body. I realized this when the 2 fellows sent in to clean up the mess my medical anomaly had induced began to handle my body. At first I was a little disoriented as you could imagine; head exploding and all. Had kind of a migraine, but not your typical migraine, it kinda floated around my head (or where my head had been) like a Bootsy Collins afro. Anyway these fellas set my body up onto one of those cushioned benches u always see in medical facilities and began to clean. As I sat there I began to come out of this fog and it was as I was watching them. Not from the stereotypical movie-fied floating aboveit all method, but from where I was sitting on the bench. I kept wanting to tell them that they had missed some bits. For some reason, this thought (can you think with no head?) bothered me and I wanted them to collect all of everything. Well one guy went to grab one of my sneakers that had come off in the ordeal (yeah I called it an ordeal. It was my head) and decided that he was gonna just sit it on top of where my collarbone was protruding. I kinde felt disrespected and tried to knock the shoe out of his hand. And guess what?... I did. Hooooly (expletive)! Did he freak out. The other guy hadn’t seen this and was knocked down as the first guy scrambled back in his overwhelming freaked-out-ed-ness. So as the second guy…ya know what, I ended up communicating with these 2 guys so I know their names. The first guy (the recently freaked out one) is Harry and the 2nd (recently knocked down guy) is Joe. As I was saying. As Joe rolled over and grabbed Harry shaking him to try to get him to chill out, I realized that even tho I didn’t have a head, I could hear things just fine. I could think somewhat normally (although there was a mass of unchecked questions swarming around my ex-head like gnats during dessert at a late summer bar-b-que) and I had a small range of motion that I could feel improving. However, the only voice I could manage to generate was my internal dialog. Ya know, the one everyone has; what you’re reading here. Joe eventually turned around to see me trying to stand and just watched as if he’d seen similar things before. Harry asked him why he wasn’t freaked out as much as Harry felt he should’ve been and Joe simply replied, “I grew up in the French Quarter, I seen worse.” I got the feeling that Joe really wanted to help me out as he calmly returned my shoe to my outreached hand. It was more difficult than usual, but I did manage to get it on correctly. Joe was a swift thinker and mentioned that the next shift was gonna be coming on soon. I waved my arms trying to get Joe to hand me his clipboard and realized that I looked like every stupid zombie from almost every b-movie I’d ever seen. Then it occurred to me, even with no head, I could also see! I could see, in all of its gory glory, my ridiculous zombie arm movements. Maybe I should’ve been more understanding of their plight. I imagine I’ll see quite a few things differently now. I mean metaphorically speaking, not just because I had no real eyes anymore. Joe seemed to know what I was after (his clipboard) and handed it over. I tried to write a note communicating to them. What I tried to write was, “ Thank you for my shoe. My name is Keller.” But what actually came out was, “tHayoff mNSHeo` mAAnom si kElllrr.” Harry looked and said, “Great! A foreigner dead guy! S’all we need.” But as I said before, Joe was a swift thinker. He gave me back the clipboard and suggested that I try again. I did and I took more time this time. This time I kept it simple, “sHu. THanx. mE. KEllr.” Writing was more difficult that the shoe had been. Much more difficult. I was something I was going to have to practice. Joe read what I’d written and I could tell that he understood because he said, “You’re welcome for your shoe, Mr. Keller. Now we need to get you out of here before somebody else shows up. If you would please lay here on this gurney and I’ll sheet you up until we can get you someplace safer to talk...err…convers…ya know. I understood and did as he asked. Laying there under the sheet I could feel it against what would have been my upper shoulders and that felt weird to me that it wasn’t against something that was more face-level. I was sure I’d get used to it. I began to “figure” that I’d have to get used to a lot of things here in the near future. But for now, I just laid there listening to them finish up their cleaning of my ordeal (yes I’m going to continue to call it that, thank you very much) until I felt a bag being placed under the table on which I was laying. Then I felt a push on things. We were moving. Joe’s ever-calm voice detailed things. “We’re gonna run you down stairs Mr. Keller. Orders are to cremate you, but that don’t seem quite right after the last few, so I’m gonna augment some documentation and we’re all gonna take a ride in the company van. I don’t know about you but I could use a cold beer.”
I’d never drank before, but I think that right then if I could’ve, I may have taken one. Just to clear my head ya know…cept..well..ya know. As we rolled out of the room, Harry, still a little freaked out, (and not an Ivy League graduate) asked if everybody who was French could speak to the dead. I would’ve laughed out loud…ya know if I’d had a mouth. Joe paused his pushing and I could imagine him looking at Harry and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he said, “Yep, we learn it in grade school.
2
“Shore is weird; him not having a head.” This might have been the most in tuned statement Harry made the whole first night that I knew him. He’s right, I said. But it being only in ethereal was-head, it wasn’t really said at all. I looked around for something to try to express this thought; alas the company van (as Joe had called it) was neatly kept and held no errant scraps of paper. This could become a problem. But I had an idea. I made what I believed to be the universal symbol for ‘telephone’ and hoped Harry would understand even though I no longer had an ear nor mouth to complete the charade. Harry had a brief moment of clarity and said, “I think he wants to call somebody.” Then the spark vanished, “whoever he calls ain’t gonna recognize him tho with no face.”
I’d never drank before, but I think that right then if I could’ve, I may have taken one. Just to clear my head ya know…cept..well..ya know. As we rolled out of the room, Harry, still a little freaked out, (and not an Ivy League graduate) asked if everybody who was French could speak to the dead. I would’ve laughed out loud…ya know if I’d had a mouth. Joe paused his pushing and I could imagine him looking at Harry and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he said, “Yep, we learn it in grade school.
2
“Shore is weird; him not having a head.” This might have been the most in tuned statement Harry made the whole first night that I knew him. He’s right, I said. But it being only in ethereal was-head, it wasn’t really said at all. I looked around for something to try to express this thought; alas the company van (as Joe had called it) was neatly kept and held no errant scraps of paper. This could become a problem. But I had an idea. I made what I believed to be the universal symbol for ‘telephone’ and hoped Harry would understand even though I no longer had an ear nor mouth to complete the charade. Harry had a brief moment of clarity and said, “I think he wants to call somebody.” Then the spark vanished, “whoever he calls ain’t gonna recognize him tho with no face.”
The Girl With the Tattooed Neck
Scunny hugged himself against the cold he felt in his bones as he stood under the flickering marquis awning of the Haskins Blvd American Standards Cash&Pawn. He whispered through clinched chattering teeth his wish that this infernal drizzle would stop falling. It was as if the rain 'knew' and fell for the solitary function of torturing him.
Scunny caught a whiff of his reeking Slayer hoodie and almost wretched from the stench of it. He heard a slight chuckle begin to rise from his belly at the thought of it. Scunny had never been one to support, even crossing the street to avoid the panhandling gutter punks he'd see around Ambassador Park or outside the Riley Towers. He’d often speak of how they gave the whole neighborhood a funk and now, because of 'this', he stank more awfully than the worst of them.
He'd shower if he could; he had no fear of soap or a good scrubbing. But for some reason he couldn't yet fathom, 4 days ago any moisture that touched his skin would instantly sizzle or steam off in seconds. He was sure that it had something to do with that girl with the neck tattoo that he's hooked up with at Packy Lawson's party. He was determined to find her and hoped that in doing so he'd find out what she'd done to him and most importantly how to make it stop.
if only the rain would cooperate..if only...
Scunny caught a whiff of his reeking Slayer hoodie and almost wretched from the stench of it. He heard a slight chuckle begin to rise from his belly at the thought of it. Scunny had never been one to support, even crossing the street to avoid the panhandling gutter punks he'd see around Ambassador Park or outside the Riley Towers. He’d often speak of how they gave the whole neighborhood a funk and now, because of 'this', he stank more awfully than the worst of them.
He'd shower if he could; he had no fear of soap or a good scrubbing. But for some reason he couldn't yet fathom, 4 days ago any moisture that touched his skin would instantly sizzle or steam off in seconds. He was sure that it had something to do with that girl with the neck tattoo that he's hooked up with at Packy Lawson's party. He was determined to find her and hoped that in doing so he'd find out what she'd done to him and most importantly how to make it stop.
if only the rain would cooperate..if only...
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