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...
