Somewhere in the middle of the desert there lives a quiet oasis...
inhabitated by one man and his spaceship made from rotten watermelon...
the whole thing stinks to hell... sorta like the whole immortality blueprint...
blue print... what are you erecting here?? a building or my penis??...
neither one wants to work today...
lazy bums have stormed the palace demanding my head on a silver plate....
"sorry i seem to have misplaced the keys to your kingdom"
Well the point of this post is to tell you sailors that your
women come to me for love…
you should stop neglecting your studies… practice makes
perfect
by this point in my career I should either be dead or a porn star…
I
could also be a politician, but your blue dress gave me a head start
kick start my heart?? listen to the wind blows... what does the wind know??
i stained the windows to her soul with my love... my sick twisted perverted love... love love
come into my
parlor says the spider to the fly; there
is a test tomorrow;I just hope you survive…
I want to see you smile, but
truth be told I love her lips and im only happy when it rains.
what year is this 1966??
is the lady still singing in the rain?
soaking wet she comes to me looking for answers...
when asked to solve life's mysteries; or to advice others on their spiritual quest
I often think of that awkward conversation between David Bowie and
Bing Crosby, just before they launch into a stirring rendition of Li'l Drummer
Boy… (on a shelf in my studio there lives
a little drummer boy, he is dwarfed however by one of my many Gene Simmons
action figures… ) oh boy the tongue on that guy, to say that rock is dead… my new
years resolution is to forgive Gene Simmons his opinions, whatever they may be, truth be told I don’t give two shits about his opinions, even if I agree
with him. he is the God Of Thunder and
this is Halloween… Halloween Halloween hollow
hollow Halloween!!
Whom
do you say Happy Hollydaze to and whom do you say Happy Holidays to? All very,
very good questions, but with a family ½ Catholic and ½ Jewish, I just say
whatever to anybody and everything to whomever. It’s total freedom in the free
world and I’m not at all offended either with whatever anyone sends my way ---- unless
on December 21st you specifically refuse to wish me a Happy Solstice (how dare you not).
Because, hey I may know nothing at all in the great scheme of things, but that my
friends is the longest night of the freakin' year
- those ancient folk at Newgrange, Knowth, Dowth and the like knew it and it all checks
out. Well, I digress - I want to send peace and love out to half my loved ones
(forget the rest of yas until next week).
No
wait, you can have peace and love too!!
Please
note the views and opinions expressed in this entry are those of the author and
do not reflect anything at all nor should they to anybody else
Hey, I’m no
speechwriter but I’ll convey that truer words could not be better expressed
than this exact question from last
night’s happy fun trivia bash
>Retiring
in 1994 at age 31, she is notable for "the most memorable bikini drop in
cinema history" and for her line in the TV movie Lace: "Which of you bitches is my mother?"<
“You may have slipped that
half-assed mickey in my cool lime Rickey but nothing is going to happen tonight
baby doll, for I digress. I will not fall in
love, I will not fall in love, I will I will not…damn it all suddenly realizing I’m in love! I’m in love, in love like crazy as a daisy in love. What evil spell
of witchery did this cat put upon me? What summer madness has fallen over the
universe? What strangling gold chain hangs around the neck? Mark but this flea
and mark it so” - it went on like this for some 250 antique gold pages. The notebook was
discovered inside a dusty treasure chest in the attic of my friend’s mother’s
house out in Back Bay. No one had lived there in years.
Driving like that guy in Drive, swirling through neon streets I
take a swig of that drink that was named after the Slavic word for winter
(still available in Japan) and oh how the lights shine down and the stars fall
on. Reflections as terrifying as the Mirror Mirror who will only lie if
the money is right and those incredible shoes that danced that lady to death.
You best believe earth is only a moment, as the terracotta vase on the patio,
it will eventually break. If only you could remember that one name, no it
doesn’t matter. More like, if only you could fly like on a deathstar spaceship,
yes that would be a kool thing.
Tag team, back again party
on party people let me hear some noise and on and on until all the delegates
wrote their constituents poison pen letters and tortured the puppies of suspected
evangelists. It was arsenic in the champagne and dangerous liaisons everywhere
one looked. World war three (remember that?) nearly broke out, I say nearly
because just before it did some French mime tugged at the heartstrings of the
favorite son of a very important man. And then from the rooftops (remember
those?), choirs of angels with golden trumpets and harps and
lyres, pan flutes, steel drums...played the last 5 minutes of the set as the
formerly doomed universe (a patient audience all in all) heard these words,
“God bless every last one of (muffle-static-explosion)!! le fin du monde - goodbye little candle
My favorite superhero is
Aquanet. We were as outrageous as kittens in arms, every cat is a criminal and
every criminal is a critic. Note that journal reminded us that the war on
string is unwinnable. So kill yr idols and live the high life like a moonshiner.
I still pray to my idols because they are more sacred now. Pick up that double or triple neck guitar dear
and turn it up to – what, like 8?
The American dream is a consolation prize just
waiting for your arrival. The train jumped the tracks at the Roxbury Street Station (we spent a night there, right?). The mind as vacant and triggered as a joy ride and unless you have been there and done that, you can’t walk on that
evanescent wild side. Can’t live with or without my radio, this sea of recycled
sounds just plays and loops around and around. Recall the painted ponies that
beat on like Christian soldiers in Kristiansand, they go so fa oh la tea da
Grade school and every girl
wanted the Dirty Dancing soundtrack, come to find there were two. More Dirty Dancing, (not Havana Nights) had all the real songs from the 60s and not the contemporary ones (like those Hungry Eyes and that
girl who was Like the Wind) but
regardless, I did not know, did not know – and bought this second record. So,
Swayze was nowhere to be found, but I first heard Be My Baby and Do You Love Me
(well, do ya punk?). I felt like calling my cousin on the phone and asking
if he’d caught this new sound yet. Needless to say, I still have this madness
and still play those songs, but the climactic lift requires a duet, so…
Found this song on a record in a thrift store a few months ago; cost me a dollar.
"The Best of Cowboy Copas" and who is Cowboy Copas??
For years i thought him and this song were just figments of my father's imagination.
I searched the internet trying to find this song in the late 90's to no avail.
i kept searching... and searching... and searching...
Seems for a moment in time everybody in the world
everybody but my father, had forgotten about the great Cowboy.
Here's to my father and his memory of this song
His love of cheddar cheese, coca-cola, pringles and cheez-its...
Here's to prostitutes with nice skin.
A girl took note as she stood at the water's edge, the waves are always moving and they will never be caught or captured - free as a rich bitch at the mall (do they still have malls, I'm going off of knowledge I gathered from 1980's movies such as Night of the Comet)? Lounge lizard songs keep me awake and I haven't really been to the ocean in awhile, I forget how those waves just --
Crash and clash and ebb and moon flow low tide that draws us closer than ever before
I'll probably just hang around until I disappear in the smoke.
So, I wrote once for a friend who asked if I understood that poems "should" rhyme.
On a world's campus, days of wine and roses
anything goes, or so one supposes
If destiny were not a word
then Sisley, Pissarro and I*
would sail on a boat
down the River Rhine
and Laugh and Drink and Cry.
*friend into High Impressionism
So, I may be no contemporary, modern, post modern or post mortem writer
but fuck if I don't enjoy tap dancing
We are all inside this castle together and there is no escaping
I mean the vibrations are felt just where vibrations should be kept
I slept in the water; inside the sun, my eyes have seen what no other can describe
I have seen the face of god and I am still alive
Puked on your doorsteps at least once upon a time
The bright lights sticking to the rust on the metal heavy shapes shaking in the night
You hear the engines roaring as they come to life, drink this and have faith
Believe in the scientists when they come to wake you up with these pictures in a frame
Slowly burning; I am the flame, I keep waking up just to fall asleep and dream
You have enough bones to build a fortress; build a forest and surround me with trees
I’m calling up to the mountains crawling on my hands and knees;
might take me forever but in the end
I will see this cage for what it is and I won’t be afraid of what lies
beyond these black dots on my screen
I keep breaking up the machine tearing it to pieces
and I want to be cleansed by your electricity
Electrocuted slowly so that I can feel every moment of my demise
I want to feel my death so that I can know I was truly alive
She feels the night
The love will cry the name of her motherfucker
Smother me in the mountains of spain
Let me know
Let me go
Let me forget this pain in my heart
Let me recoil collapse eexpose the map
Let me know there is a path and a river made of golden ships
Sail away sail away sail away hey!!
Tonight can you maybe fill my ehart
With enough rain so that I may go for a swim
I want oto be in love I want to feel alive again;
The gambler dies when he stops gambling;
A New Orleans suitcase full of boots..
“I left them all barefoot by the water” he says to me one day…
And I still don’t know what that means.
Dear friends, let it be known that I in no way meant to diminish the very important social message of the song "Luka" and that one may make the argument that the title isn't even spelled the same as the aforementioned mother character of yore - so there. In lieu of flowers - send bass. Thank you all and remember that we are the world, the children are our future and please oh please I hope they know it's Christmas
(lets not forget that we are all beautiful today... no matter what the name)
So, in order to fulfill a
high school performing arts credit I had to take Theatah (as I call it). Now, I
did manage to get out of acting (for my sake as well as everyone else’s) until
the end of the semester. Ol’ teacher figured it out and made me be in a play. A
group of 4 (1 director, 3 actors) were to perform a little sumpin for the
class. Well, I’m a great reader and managed to find the perfect role - some New
Zealand or Aussie play** where a mother is killed by her 2 daughters, note mother only has 3 lines before demise…Well,
I don’t need to tell you that I was gonna get that mother role if I had to
sleep with the director/producer/teacher/other actors it didn't matter, I can
play the game. So anyway – got the part!! 2 weeks to rehearse, and show time. I
did manage to memorize my lines, however forgot to take note of the lines
before/after, you know the actual acting part of the deal. Needless to say I didn't do a very good job of it. Another student actually critiqued my work, “you weren't very motherly I don’t think” and I’m like “why would a good ‘motherly’
mother be killed by her 2 daughters?” ha gotcha bitch. Then I announced to the
class that I researched studiously for – what is my character’s name, oh look my
name was “Luca” – and it may have been overly obvious that my main source of
inspiration was Heather Duke portrayed by Ms. Shannen Doherty in the Classic film Heathers- so, everyone thank you and have a pleasant evening!
**author’s note: might not have been a down under
play - can’t recall
Turning onto Fascination Street consider how a softer more desolate palette
awaits us in the Southwest. We can drive for around 12 hours and be in (actually
many places) but I am thinking Austin as we can crash on a couch there, listen to some songs there and generally get lost, found and turned around
there. Turn up the mixtape and make sure
the headlights are working for a road trip unlike but just like every other. Wait, how did we end up in Seattle again?
Must dedicate a little somethins’ to my friend who bought Macaulay
Culkin a Corona last Thursday night and was worried that she looked stupid. Yes,
maybe yes, but made us so fucking cool at the same time. I have high hopes for our respective futures...
Please believe me I know all about squeeze cheese and crackers and there is something to be said
about a lobster giving you his head and in the morning you wake up and everything is red
you can’t recall whose legs were spread but you know its not butter youre tasting in your mouth
it’s the sour sound of regret and you may say that im naïve and yeah that would probably be true
this is what I said and this is what I did
but this is what was meant by both
my actions and my lack thereof…
climbed down to the ocean to drown and try to memorize
the words she spoke before I lost my mind...
my grip on reality is fading fast my grip is slipping as they laugh
their lipstick that lipstick sick lipstick lightning flash
and I know they do not exist I know I know I know
my beautiful friend all I ever wanted was one last kiss
one last chance to say nothing for hours and just fall asleep
in your heart
forever asleep; a victim of the undertow
In this storm I have become an angels and my wings are fire breathing lungs
I taste the world as it melts on my tongue
I think I can touch your face tonight
If I keep going than I just might walk off the edge of the earth
To the river to the river to deliver a message of love to the cosmos
I will keep falling forver and be haunted by your ghost
This chance to be free to believe to know whats inside of me
This wine I breathe this song I sing
Im drowning im drowning
Somebody come and pick me up
Anybody… anybody see me floating in need of something to wake me up.
Cmon comn put on a little make up!!
Me: So, here is the opening line of the paperback edition of Angel Fire.
‘IT MIGHT be useful,’ said the rich womanly voice, ‘to model me as your
guardian angel.’ - I believe this is what you asked about for the holiday cards?
Boss: No, I meant the one
with the witch, not the angel.
Me: Witch Fire? (mumble to myself - yeah, more like Bitch Fire) I don’t think it exists – but if you want me to, I dunno
there is Practical Magic, um
Boss: That’s it, that’s it -
now tell me that one.
Tuning into a local radio station, I'm feeling slightly self-conscious upon realizing that I should’ve played a(n?) Heart song. This truly was an oversight on my part and I sincerely
hope everyone accepts my thoughts on the matter. It must be noted that I prefer lyrical
questions such as, “is it cloak and dagger, could it be spring or fall?” to
anything else in the world. I mean, it is these existential inquiries that have confounded
human minds since the beginning of time before time immemorial.
...or, do they know me too well. Now, I am aware that all good conspiracy theories begin with the
word “they”, but it turns out, there are not many songs
with the word ‘heart’ in the title, which I would not have assumed to be the
case. I would like to dedicate the following to Ms. Justice Ginsburg (from the Justice League) recovering
from surgery today and as I imagine is presently watching Downton Abbey and taking
shots of Jack whenever someone speaks with a British accent. Cheers!
Yes, only too well; recall
that a wise man once said, “very, very frightening”. This is not your mother’s ghost story (which one
would that be - The Ghost and Mrs. Muir?),
but this is still your personal tour guide here with you now only
this time wearing a kilt; one of the long ladies ones if you will. Now, feast
your ears on some traditional piping from the mad plaid estate aka Scotland.
Hello, this is your sky
captain who will be wearing Chelsea boots (deal with it) on your personal music tour of all of
Western Europe. Now on to England where all I know of this place is from The Avengers circa '65-68, particularly
the episode where Mrs. Emma Peel and Steed go to that quiet airport and the
first sound is the rattling of milk bottles on the back of a lorry. Did it have
something to do with war ghosts?
Fact - A Madonna song was the
first song I danced with a boy to if you don’t count ballroom in phys ed where I might have fox-trotted or waltzed around with one in the school basement. And you apparently thought I couldn't even leave my house for the 12’ stacks of
early 90’s fashion magazines that would fall down on my head.
I like how it has just come to be called The Opera Song, because well, as that They Might Be Giants (not that one) song once expressed so eloquently, "youth culture killed my dog and I don't think it's fair". Now, this might be the best song you are going to hear all day.
And so I said to lighten
the mood, “well I’ll tell you what - I certainly do not want to live in a world
without pumpkin cookies and grey angora bunnies named Fido.”
And
you said – actually, I don’t remember, I'm terribly self-absorbed. It might have been something like, - maybe we can just run away - again you were so serious all of the time.
I left the room, came back in the room and asked, “so, have
you read any good memoirs lately?”
Sessions in basements in Buffalo. New York ink and daggers and shots in the dark - I drive all night just to get where you are, where you are - where are you little love? That old time voodoo that you do so well has cast a living spell on me and now I'm floating off into a movie that I've watched too many times.
This song... keeping me from exploding from all the feeling and emotions inside my soul right now. Sadness, anger, and a huge amount of sugar sprinkled with vermin...
they have stormed the castle we built and now it is time to call in the exterminators...
whomever they may be. i remember driving all the way to Ohio just to fuck your brains out...
the problem with that is afterwards you were no good for conversation... slurring your words and saying things like "where are the children?? where is the coffee??" i had to explain to you twice that things just do not happen that way... coffee is not just made in a pot it has to be harvested, it has to grow... but you wanted instant gratification after i had drove eight hours in the freezing cold just to see your face... maybe you werent so compassionate afterall... maybe you were just a slut and i dont have time for that in my life... farewell christopher columbus.
on a sidenote i later found out they do make instant coffee... and yes you still are a slut with the voice of an angel. (and a soul so dark and haunted that i drank my coffee black)
Sampson: Gregory, o’ my word, we’ll not carry coals.
Gregory: No, for then we should be colliers.
Well, I don’t need to tell you what this all leads to…Lust,
love, open garden gates and through which pale light the shattered window
breaks, as seen in the film go through that glass darkly and wear a cocktail
dress all purple and sparkly.
All the world rejoices, for deep in the darkest space, where I am often lost and find myself accident prone, there is a small object that appears to be a "solid moonlet". NASA's Cassini Solstice Mission discovered it living near Saturn's F ring. They named it "Mittens".
You always whispered, you never really had a voice to say anything and be heard
everybody thought you were mumbling, just slurring your words after having too much to drink
now we are here in silence and i'm on top of your grave wanting to make love to your spirit
wanting to see your smile wanting to know wanting to have wanting to hold you in my arms
one last time... i know everything will be alright like bobby says no woman no cry
we must keep moving forward even as tears fill our eyes...
as the city turns to mourning, will the leaves continue to fall??
not sure what i feel right now... sadness can't possibly explain it all
I specifically asked you what your favorite color was and you said - I think you said it was blue - and I was so ready for you to ask me mine, but you went with, "what's your favorite movie scene" and caught off guard, mumbled something about the montage of kisses from Cinema Paradiso, because, I don't know its good, maybe if I had more time I would respond differently. You see, I was so ready to reply that I had two favorite colors...
