gr8gr&motherfuck ALL

Grindcore Picnic

2008-09-03T06:10:00.000-07:00

in McCarren park.

8.29.-ish

2008-08-29T12:07:00.000-07:00

there's a blond behind a drumkit in there (as seen from the southern side of the manhattan bridge off the brooklyn shore)

mods

2008-08-21T16:32:00.000-07:00

the music section of the toy department of wal-mart will never again be safe as long as she trolls their linoleum alleys...

2008-08-21T14:32:00.001-07:00

Niger is recording @ FUCK YOU studios.
These were snapt whilst a-mod-harvesting.

Ellery Eskelin @ Cornelia cafe 8.16.08

2008-08-15T22:06:00.000-07:00

(a lot of action for such a short fuckin' street.)
Ellery Eskelin, last seen by me in Joey's BARON DOWN knows how to wear a hat.
Cat blows too.

if you do not know who RODD KEITH is, pretend you do.

CRUST how at supreme trading

2008-08-11T08:41:00.000-07:00

on 8.9.08 we met Rob Phelps at Supreme Trading in williamsburg for a bill of (chaaacke-thpeuh) crust music, blest/uncurst, most notably by AFTER THE BOMB from Canada (shown below) but also the opening band who's chick singer creamed like she was being boiled in oil and who, with the competant D-BEAT drummer transcended the ineptly ampilfied guitarists.

on 8.8.08 the 88 played for 88. Everyone agreed

2008-08-08T23:32:00.000-07:00

I was the best drummer there?

mars bar mural

2008-08-08T23:24:00.000-07:00

being painted by Slink Moss.
Steve Bristol got carded cause the cops have been harrassing the mars bar.
some 40-year old undercover fined bartendress Anna for not requesting his proof of I.D.
I got mad at Steve because he still doesn't carry his I.D. even after he was previously carded in an upstate supermarket. We're pushing 40.

female paraurthreal ejaculate anyone?

2008-07-29T09:52:00.000-07:00

Stage Name : Jenna Presley
these San Fernando names are like present-day extreme metal bands; there's an unofficial glossary of 50 words and often the ONLY discepancy between the NAMES of discreet entities is one of syntax.
Stage Whisper : Dialogue?

2008-07-28T15:31:00.000-07:00

Inquisition live 7.27.08

2008-07-28T10:37:00.000-07:00

At the new(?) Deitch space in Long Island City.
KRALLICE opened.

I got in a cab and the valet from the fancy restaurant across from the venue told the driver "you got the wrong people in your car".
I yelled "I'm rich, motherfucker!" and went home with two girls. Actually they just took the cab with me because I said I'd pay for it. I didn't get squat.

SUFFOCATION 7.13.08

2008-07-17T07:42:00.000-07:00

they krushed.

Tristan Perich

2008-07-17T07:39:00.000-07:00

I AM NOT GOING TO BLOG ON MY BIRTHDAY

2008-07-13T11:25:00.000-07:00

That would be lame.
My cousin is a magician.
SUFFOCATION live.

a sociological argument on pychopathology or a psychopathic argument on sociology?

2008-07-08T11:15:00.000-07:00

if one wants to avoid any additional bouts of mysanthropy one should avoid not only sports bars but the commentary lists on youtube. It is there one is likely to encounter the (often) cowardly typings of this planet's armchair racists, closeted fascists and barely-literate victims of gutted school systems who are largely unable to EVEN DISCRIMINATE THE SATIRICAL FROM THE SINCERE as per my humorous-yet-forboding exchanges with Finland's master of the unauthorized overdub St. Sanders (watch all of his clips immediately; they transcend comedy --and pee before you do so), wherein the St. and I traded the most outstandingly idiotic of comments from viewers who were either unable to determine his tampering or were incensed at what they perceived to be a COVERT attempt to undermine the talent of their idols...even the cynicism of our informed intelects were unprepared for the MYOPIC GULLIBILTY of the majority of his viewers. The emboldened text below is from the St. to me wherein he quotes from a confused viewer:

IN VIDEOS WE TRUST!

Sherlock Holmes isn't fictional after all:

"Attention................!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Everybody..... don't trust in this video.This song is not what you hear...Somebody send this video after erased the original song.This song has been changed!!!!"

WOW!

Haven't laughed like this for a while. What a ludicrous mind job. "ATTENTION..!!!" Buahahahaah! "Everybody..!!" Muahahahaa! A genuine father figure wants everybody to know what he just figured out. -"I've got wisdom you don't know, now listen to me you ignorant children or you'll walk right into the fire!"

Anyway, I'm all too tired, shouldn't be reading comments in this state of mind.

Recently I got into it with one JohnMcInexperienced (an anti-Hendrix ref?) because of his holier-than-thou attitude which exemplifies the WE-ARE-RIGHT-and-don't-even-need-to-Learn-anything-else stance that makes my blood boil :

JohnMcInexperienced (6 days ago) S

You're the dunce SlothDoc, 'sociopath' is the older term now being supplanted by 'psychopath'. Both terms describe a human predator lacking empathy and conscience.
You should check your facts before you open your stupid mouth.

I was gonna reproduce our exchange btu if you care just find it here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_i7vpGNlLc

Iowan ballistics abuse

2008-06-30T15:05:00.000-07:00

sacrifice of the nazarene child (number) nine

2008-06-25T07:48:00.000-07:00

was a black metal festival in 100 degree San Antonio, Texas.
mtv news covered it and gleaned a quote or two off of me:
http://www.mtv.com/news/articles/1589805/20080623/id_0.jhtml
As much as I used to adore it, I have grown weary of this designation ("black metal") as you now know what it is and the fun is nearly exhausted...also, 15 years after it was RELEVANT dynamicless monotone screaming and endless combinations of bar chords induce a woozy feeling.
I had some fun tho, being the go-to man for profanatica, grilling chicken barbarically, partaking in mexican moonshine (tequila in a 5 gallon jug) and was relieved at my mature disinterest -no, uninterest- in blowing lines and banging sluts; I thought the day would never come.
Unfortuneately the more interesting my life is the less interesting this blog is and vice versa.
I don't think I snagged a vid at all...if I did, I'll show you...lessee here...

2008-05-09T15:15:00.000-07:00

2008-04-27T11:35:00.001-07:00

I finally visited THE NEW MUSEUM where Steve Schearer's show contained plagiarism of HAVOHEJ:

Uh, SILENT BARN on Wycoff in Ridgemont, Brooklyn is an unlicensed venue where we played before the LAUNDRY ROOM SQUELCHERS (best noise band ever) last night (4.26).

I had been there the previous night to see KRALLICE, Mick Barr's project with ARKTOPUD 's Colin...they were really quite good and they should forgive me for describing them as SHELLAC-as-DARKTHRONE because I am also mentioning that I have rarely had the pleasure of hearing such inspired contrapuntal arrangement between the bass and two guitars; a perfect tension betwixt the dissonant and the consonant, almost entirely existing in the tonal world of "Transylvanian Hunger" but advancing the arrangements there posited exponentially.
I was too entertained to snag a vid of them.

wanna be lonely? Be a genius.

2008-04-20T10:01:00.001-07:00

I finally got to see Kasper Collin's "My Name Is Albert Ayler" on the big screen at the essential Anthology Film Archives (who screened my "The Nite Owl" in the '90s). It is a wistful, compelling , bathetic account filled with peculiar people who patently speak English as a second language, especially the American majority who have the most odd syntax and delivery, like verbal language itself is a stretch for them (which it was undoubtedly was for Albert).
I have had Near Death Experiences, seen a total-machine-reality in the thrall of telepathine (tryptamine), I've seen moonbeams glitter in the dark off the shoulder of Orion, but I have NEVER OBSERVED ANYTHING AS ARCANELY BIZARRE as Albert Ayler's "Rock and Roll" music. As I sat up aghast in my chair I realised that as fluent as me and my contemporaries are in the various stripes of free music, our manifestations were somehow still filtered thru a proto-rock sensibility...whereas Albert is so incommensurably freejazz that ANYTHING he attempts is permanently inflected by it's dramatic contours...there is something ineffably otherworldy about the spectacle of Albert in his paisley-pimp rock outfit, on his knees pleading religiously for "woman", an almost autistic inability to express himself in any format except the musical, in which he is adept in a harrowingly inverse proportion.
Half the time during the film I thought I was looking at myself; I must infer that the astrological date in which we were both born, July 13th is not our only commonality, that there are morphological (our appearance) and life-path parallels that haunt me like a forgotten incarnation...I was 4 months old when they pulled him out of the water.
After the film I headed out to Brooklyn, where everybody else lives, to catch Al Duvall at Hank's Saloon. I think he's our finest living lyricist and as far as being an affable gentleman, if he even looks sideways at my liver he's welcome to it.

Here he is segueing from a Hitchcock-appropriated Gounod dirge into an original ditty. Every couplet a sardonic jewel, every anachronistic euphemism morbidly nutritional; when is the last time you heard a songwriter who upon repeat-listens is so hearty and enriching?
Don't answer.

conversation with my old man

2008-04-05T13:28:00.000-07:00

He wrote me this:

My Dear and Beloved Sons!

May you walk with GOD, the Creator, the Source of ALL THAT IS.

May you live Your Life as a Warrior....not as a worrier.

with Love,

Dad

On Being a Warrior and Succeed in Life
1. “The spirit of a warrior is not geared to indulging and complaining, nor is it geared to winning or losing. The spirit of a warrior is geared only to struggle, and every struggle is a warrior's last battle on earth. Thus the outcome matters very little to him. In his last battle on earth a warrior lets his spirit flow free and clear. And as he wages his battle, knowing that his intent is impeccable, a warrior laughs and laughs.”
Carlos Castaneda, A Separate Reality

4. We should live as if we were in public view, and think, too, as if someone could peer into the inmost recesses of our hearts—which someone can!

Seneca Notes, Letters from a Stoic

To which I replied

I dreamt last night that I was in an exalted hall of titans and there was a trio of females I wanted to impress.
I flew over to the a giant window that was partially open and on the other side were these levitating royal deities, superior and exclusive.
As I approached the opening I saw that it was just enough to fly thru but there were sharp spikes jutting dangerously into the access and I thought "when I breach the portal's outside, forces will impel me into the spikes" so I increased speed and aimed for a rare section inbetween these spikes. Just as my front half broke thru to the outer side of this giant window, a gust of magnetic wind impelled me against the sill inbetween spikes. Angered, I pushed thru and swarmed up on the king of the deities with alarming ostentation. He was enraged and retaliated pushing me back thru the window into the hall of titans before slicing me vertically with his royal powercutlass. I felt the red line where his blade made contact and was relieved to see that I was not bisected. In a promethean fury I ran him thru whence he transformed into an inert nutcracker-like oversized figurine.

If this is a real and true Dream then it would take a battalion of shrinks to decipher.

It is from a higher DENSITY than this exchange.

Of course it's real. As for the iconography and semiotics they are monolithically simple:

There are no gods, only the manifestations of our conception of them.
There is only the higher selves and the absolutum..
..and the cabal.
NN
CMJ KWVA Jazz Report--01 April 2008
1 FIRE ROOM Broken Music Atavistic
2 PETER BROTZMANN/PEETER UUSIKYLA Born Broke Atavistic
3 LISLE ELLIS Sucker Punch Requiem Henceforth
4 PANTHELION Life After 339 Self-Released
5 MARK O'LEARY & HANN BENNINK Television Ayler
6 JASON KAO HWANG Stories Before Within Innova
7 CONVENIENS Conveniens 8 VANDERMARK 5 Beat Reader
Atavistic
9 JACOB FRED JAZZ ODYSSEY Lil Tae Rides Again Hyena
10 NONDOR NEVAI The Wooden Machine Music 2001 ug/EXPLODE

situationalist readymades in the eye of the beholder

2008-04-04T15:59:00.001-07:00

We went to Freeman's, the texas-chainsaw-massacre-chic restaurant nestled at the terminus of freeman alley off rivington and chrystie where we ordered devils on horseback with out inquiring what it was. I was a bit concerned when I bit into the rolled thick-cut slice of bacon to see that it contained a purplish-black paste; I am not so intrepid when it comes to ominous pastes on my palate. It turned out to be prune with a bit of stilton...interesting if you're into that sort of thing.
So we closed the joint and on the way home encountered a variety of possibly unremarkable objects which, perhaps because of the wine, seemed pertinent in a Duchamp-on-angeldust sort of way; witness these discarded animal bones, one of which was just pulverized by a passing cab:
Or this toilet that had plummeted from above onto a dumpster filled to the brim with sand:
Shit, even the plain-old nasty lower east side sidewalk had a tactile anti-charm (pictured at top).

I used to just like dolphins...now IT'S LOVE!

2008-04-04T15:29:00.001-07:00

Swimmer Escapes Rape by Dolphin who seems to be a swinger

OSLO, Aug 17, 1999 (AFP) - A dolphin tried to rape a 28-year-old Norwegian swimmer who had been gambolling with it off the south coast of Norway, the newspaper Verdens Gang reported Tuesday.

The animal, which had been circling around the swimmer, suddenly stuck its penis between his leg and his bathing costume before the man managed to free himself and escape back aboard his nearby boat.

"At first I thought it was pushing me with its flipper but dolphins don't have flippers beneath their bellies," the unidentified swimmer explained.

Another swimmer who witnessed the scene from the boat told the newspaper he had to ward off similar advances from the dolphin a few minutes earlier.

"He tried his luck with me but I was protected by my waterproof suit," that swimmer said.

Someone responded:
>I suppose we are to conclude from this incident that dolphins are gay!

Well, I don't care if a dog, cat or less frequently a dolphin is male or female when I pet it. But I MUCH prefer petting a female human than a male. Like us with dolphins/dogs/cats, a dolphin probably doesn't distinguish gender in humans.

Another human man that has quite a bit of experience having sex with both male and female dolphins also confirms this. His story and factual details are quite interesting. I have zero interest myself, but find it interesting the interelationships between humans and "beasts" when totally consensual and initiated by the animal.

Someone else replied:
This sort of thing happens all the time on those "swimming with dolphin" programs which I think is why they usually recommend you wear a wetsuit and not just a bathing suit. Dolphins are just horny!! :)

In a swinging newsgroup someone said:
Just another case of where one of these SINGLE dolphins won't take NO for an answer... imagine being stuck with a few of them in a jacuzzi

Another:
Heh. Dolphins are playful. :) Considering that they ejaculate at a force hard enough to injure (I've heard it compared to a shotgun blast), it's a good idea not to take them up on their offers. :)

inferno festival in Oslo, Norway 4

2008-03-28T14:22:00.000-07:00

From NORWAY: The Rough guide :
"For reasons that remain obscure -or at least culturally complex- many Norwegians can't just have a drink or two, but have to get absolutely wasted."
I'll tell you the reason: THEY'RE AN UTTER LOT OF PISSHEADS, that's WHY.
"I heard Americans can't drink" Gunnar from Stavanger said looking steadily down at me as he poured more beer into his face and I was barely able to sip; earlier that day I couldn't even KEEP WATER DOWN, if you understand.
I heard a crash a ran over to see metalheads pulling booze from the locked bar they just smashed. I grabbed this clip and then got gone:

I met Gorm the metal veterinarian; he has the garrulous viking laugh and let's the kids play soccer inside. I also met Nicklaus from SHINING who explained to me WHY there were POLITTI backstage during their performance; word had gotten out that he intended to be fellated by a male sado-maso bottom onstage but the cat-o'-nine-tailing and lacerating of said subject had to suffice lest Nicklaus recieve a 10,000 kronur fine.
I kaught glimpse of SIMEN HESTNHAES (the other singer of DIMMU) but he was too busy escaping (interested parties like me) into the VIP room to be taciturn in.
Here is 1349 with Tom G. Warrior doing "Jewel Throne" I think.They played it too fast. They play everything too fast. They are probably the consistantly fastest band alive.

and Destruction who were bitchin':

and Obliteration recently signed to Nocturno Culto's Tyrant label:

Norwegian Jazz from the TV, ay-yi-yi :

inferno festival in Oslo, Norway 3

2008-03-28T14:04:00.000-07:00

I met Andreas who owns a record shop and we went to Jenny's house with the young garage punk quartet Master Piece of Cake. Here is their drummer:

We were on booze and drugs and things got rambunctious. The bass player was the biggest of the lot (jumping on bed) and when he wasn't pushing his smaller bandmates around he was calling me "queer" in Norwegian but I could still tell what he was saying:

Andreas and I left about 7am.
Here he is retching outside Jenny's:

inferno festival in Oslo, Norway 2

2008-03-28T13:40:00.001-07:00

I was discussing the recording of our upcoming superalbum with Mick Barr and I mentioned visiting Norway where I didn't know a soul. He gave me the email of Are Mokklebost who turned out to be totally cool and a good musician and artist.
Are had been to the residence of a young Varg Vikernes and he described a house virtually parent-free. Could the neglectful parenting of Norse anthropologists be partially responsible for Varg's myopic racism?
Here I am at Are's studio by the train tracks in southeastern Oslo checking out the collages he is working on for an upcoming gallery show:

inferno festival in Oslo, Norway

2008-03-23T09:08:00.001-07:00

"the garbage can is for littering."
"Get impressed with our videofilm."
"parkering forbundt."
"'sup my nigga?"
These are things one can expect to hear in Oslo, but without even trace amounts of accent; they correct YOU on le dernier cri in american slang.
I've insulted posterity with severe efficacy in the last half decade; the years are blurring together. I don't take sentimental pictures or video even when so equipped. Perhaps that is why I never remember to avoid music festivals. ESPECIALLY BLACK METAL MUSIC FESTIVALS. The idiom is itself a concentrated form so, 4 nights worth on two stages is a stultifying barrage that soon becomes insensate. I don't want to SEE a beer or smell a blast beat until my next period...
Although there was a poignancy to stumbling into the lobby of a genteel scandinavian hotel at 7 am and hearing palm-muted thrash chugging on the public announcement system.

Everything costs double there.

This is the black-haired Elizabeth from Stavanger on the west coast, the location of the famous pulpit rock. She took my number down in her mobile phone as "hot guy". I drunkenly embraced her and said "gimme kiss". Full tongue, with the pierced lip. I've still got her number. Maybe I should return and get the whole thing?

3.16.08

2008-03-16T14:50:00.000-07:00

I'm going to Norway tomorrow.

2008-03-13T16:41:00.000-07:00

I just ran out of give-a-shit.

I wouldn't DREAM of bootlegging skrewdriver.

2.13.08 - 3.08

2008-03-02T14:43:00.000-08:00

I went and played the INTERNATIONAL NOISE CONFERENCE, headlining on the saturday.
I was barely able to hold a conversation, my mind racing along 3 or 5 subjects internally and empirically at the same time, I have a rough idea of what it was like to interact with me at the conference and I would sum it up with "remote and robotik".
The Conference was very very cool IMHO, scrappy, outsider, DIY, situationist, the most grass-roots facet of the Avante-garde, one in which French terminology is innaproriate, swollen with sexual energy the glistening likes of which I've rarely seen in such fretfully tumescent lingering profusion.
NIGER performed and I couldn't even get on stage:
I had Paul Ledney press some shirts up and they looked perfekt, like the merch of the opening band for "A Brown reason to live"-era Butthole Surfers: offensive even at a distance of illegibility.

I was too fucked up to properly distro or sell them, if you got one consider yourself blessed. Rat's got the rest; they're worth 39$ each.
_ performed and no one recorded it, I don't know how we were; I didn't FEEL like performing/I was ultra-distracted by the text-happy temptresses and their petulant refusals.
So I got my drivers license renewed and got the fuck out of there thanks to the navigationally-challenged Sasha Weisfeld who was gracious enough a host to take me in on short notice and I got to watch Herzog's "Grizzly Man", the absolutely perfect film to conclude the hectic consciousness of a 36 hour chase sequence with no audience.
Then it was off to L.A. to finish off the championing of the new 0sci11at0r full-length "Wipe it off" with Ben Wolcott and we did a live show @ PEHRSPACE thanks to the indefatigable and capricious Sean Carnage, shown here "curating" inbetween vivid homoerotic tonsil-hockey sessions:

No, I didn't get him to vid a clip of the DAF-on-ketamine-like 0sci11at0r set that eve, thanks again to Halloween Swim Team's talented drummer for sharing a snappy-assed kit and we should share a bill again, no?
Then it was back here to NYC to try on a blazer bought when I was too thin, discard that and meet my cousin and his wife at the MOMA wherein I saw some AWFUL shit that wouldn't qualify as CRAFT at a convention for anencephalic patrons, Elizabeth Murray being not the gravest offender but the one remembered, does she give good head?

that's the look on my face that says "does 'No Photography' include ME?"

zebulon 1.6.08

2008-02-07T19:08:00.000-08:00

Slink's band played:

and remember that guy Nickle who gave us a ride to the winebar?
Him and this hairless gentleman from Chicago played as after:

monsters of shit

2008-02-04T16:03:00.001-08:00

it's one of those things where the only thing more disgusting than dealing with it
is NOT DEALING WITH IT.
It's highly unlikely YOU don't have WORMS in your digestive tract, carnivore or no.
check out
http://www.drnatura.com/picture_gallery.html
and see why I just ordered 2 months worth.
Forget monsters in your space ship:
the monsters UP YOUR NASTY ASS ain't fictional.

So I was filling my head with underground media facts about FEMA detention centers, modern-day concentration camps that are CURRENTLY STAFFED and EQUIPPED to detain, oh, I don't know, over 100,000 "terrorists"...hmm where are they gonna FIND all these "terrorists"?...
...they'll have to broaden the definition of "terrorist" and then disarm us and then I'll see you on the shackle train (NOT!!!) where we will be beaten and our wives raped if we're LUCKY and yes, the process has been STARTED, and I'm understanding this as I listen to ambient hooting and hollering from the clueless sheep in all the surrounding human-zoo containers ("neighbors")
who are engulfed in the pointless and distracting football game while their freedoms get flushed toiletward like so many tons of half-digested hotwings will be and man are they gonna wish that they had paid attention to a DIFFERENT COMPETITION (democracy versus totalitarianism) on a DIFFERENT ARENA (their "country") when and IF (hopefully NEVER) this nascent design of martial law and all it's accords are established...
...and I'm getting so enraged watching some retarded pig with a linebacker's physique SMASH AN ELDERLY WOMAN TO THE FLOOR IN HER OWN KITCHEN that I suddenly stand up and walk right out the door to get some air.
As I descend the tenement stairs I hear the climactic, unanimously celebratory cries of spectators at the conclusion of a ubiquitously broadcast sporting event and I know the game is over and it's relatively safe (the FRAT-vibe date-rape orgasm in afterglow) to brave the aproximal watering holes. So I go to the Vasmay Lounge (rhymes with vajayjay) and subvert my insolently insulted inalienable rights with some beer. The cute Hungarian bartendress gives me a free "red-headed whore" (something nixed with Jaegermeister) and I'm starting to enjoy myself enough to lose my cigarettes from the kangaroo-pouch-like front pocket of my favorite PROFANATICA hoody. It IS a smidge akward to troll around the joint staring dickward at chairs and floors for one's missing pack I say off the cuff to this goateed guy Scott as he heads for the door. He motions to follow him outside where he offers one of his which turns out to be the same brand. I then snap this pic of him and the chick (see the American Spirit insignia on her cig?) after which he tells me he knows who has my pack of cigarettes; his "friend".
Once inside he surreptitiously produces the same pack from his leather jacket and returns it to me.
Ay, tanks.

The image at the top, produced on a different night, was taken accidentally.
It is not the cover of an indie record from 1989.

don't make it my problem

2008-02-03T12:23:00.000-08:00

If they turn on you inexplicably don't immediately blame them.
Was there some warning sign early on that you ignored?
They usually have an intial introductory warning phase where you have a chance to get out before they attach; they often give hints about their manias and counterproductive idiosyncrasies presented in miniature for potential detonation at a later date.
These personality mines will be waiting for you at an inopportune time to explode and it will always be your fault.
Blame yourself insofar as you must never forget the importance of that first impression.*
Do they NOT KNOW WHAT THE FUCK they presume to be talking about?
Are they quick to attack without sufficient provocation?
Are they FUCKING HIPOCRITES who conjugate the same verbs they condemn?
Do they LAUGH NERVOUSLY frequently, like someone who has made a public indiscretion?
You are you getting better at detecting them.

*
The more you get to know someone the less you know WHO they are.
Even knowing someone's name it's too late.
If I want to maintain the clarity of a first impression with an individual I refuse to know their name. (There's a reason the STRANGEFUCK is transcendentally H - O - T !)

he stands in front of the deli, his lone saxophone indistinguishable from the vehicular horns so ubiquitous, the urban birdsong perpetual.

thorsday

2008-01-31T10:38:00.001-08:00

I watched the documentary "the corporation" last night.
There it is; they fucked it all up with our help.
Homebase is filled with shit, the animals are dead, a chunk of permafrost the size of texas is no longer perma, our offspring are limbless AND THEY STILL DON'T GET THE (SUSTAINABLE) POINT: A DISEASE IN A 3-PIECE SUIT, blinded by hubris.
Productivity and profit at the cost of...EVERYTHING?
Throw the baby out and save the bathwater FOR THE BABY is this line of logic.
Throw a welcome mat out for the ESCHATON.
'Til then come over for a spot of tea?

Jew Get a Head Count?

2008-01-30T12:42:00.000-08:00

I heard as the detectives ushered the repeat-offender-looking black boys under the metal shuttered entranceway to the jail and I didn't shudder, no, I flicked the cigarette contemptuously and reentered Winnie's where a drunken gaggle of chinese reminded me that they are a rare sight (drunken Chinese) before I took the stage and karaoke'd "How Deep Is Your Love" which is more than just an anatomical question, it's the most cervical song in the book.

popp/usbm

2008-01-29T17:23:00.000-08:00

1.26.08

2008-01-27T15:48:00.001-08:00

Stalking, that is without quarry but at a brisk pace, nearly a canter, past the former site of the twin towers, now a zone of NWO construction that celebrates avarice and punishes the righteous, I found myself cursing aloud and not just because of the nearby tourists and their bovine perambulation: about the architects of 9/11, THE MOSSAD and it's traitorous domestic henchmen, if only I could live to see these SICK MOTHERFUCKERS BURN TO DEATH; it's the spiritual constipation they REPRESENT that makes me want to graduate densities most.

I was en route to the Pussycat Lounge ("since 1969") on Greenwich to accost Jarboe and James Plotkin. The drinks were 7$ each for a plastic cup the size of a tall shot glass but getting them free was the simple matter of soliciting the laminated-card carrying bandmembers who were affable enough to oblige.
The first act was some guy with a prophet synth and some little mixing board, I dunno, I'm glad I can't competantly relate his equipment brands and models but he sounded like Klaus Schulze or Jean-Michel Jarre or Vollenweider on skis, you get the idea, somewhat notable because his music is utterly out of fashion (to me) but I had to stand with my back to him because acknowledging what I cannot refer to as "his performance" was emasculating.
Then James Plotkin of the good KHANATE and more importantly first-wave earache records signees OLD LADY DRIVERS, of "colostomy grab-bag" fame (they were FAST!), got up and gently massaged his laptop before us to, what I inferred to be, our largely consensual nonplussing. In fact, after the performance, as Plotkin and I smoked together in the crisp air, he beat me to the joke and said about his performance; "I was checking my email".
Jarboe, as I recall (I: wino), was next and instead of describing the show, let me say that she is a special woman who I was gratified to meet finally in person. In addition to her vocal prowess, the shape of her skull proves this. She apologized for the amorphousness of the performance and inquired what Nic Le Ban, her significant other in Atlanta was doing this eve, to which I replied "...dunno; working for you?", which is what it sounded like he was doing when I spoke to him on the walk down. Let's see if this clip I shot reveals anything about her collab with one of the guys from NEUROSIS:

Oh, and some informed young man approached me and said "Do we know each other?" to which I replied "Yes" without a clue. I was pleased to discover that he was a listener of "Rhapsodik Bitonalities", my free-thrash record with Mick Barr and Leland, which left me feeling 2 cunthairs less insignificant as I stalked 'ome.

weekends

2008-01-26T11:49:00.001-08:00

only on them

1.24.08

2008-01-25T18:00:00.000-08:00

Me and Slink met Carbon @ the Cake Shop and saw NAUM:

Nickle gave us a ride to Williamsburg where we ran into Alex in a winebar. Simon joined us and I ordered 3 bottles of Merlot so Carbon would relax. The manager Chuck took 5 dollars off for the by-the-bottle price. Carbon split and me and Slink met Adriane and David @ Stanky's or whatever it's called; I was feeling rosy and kept singing "we own the night; we own the streets" in a faux Neil Diamond voice that would have looked like King Diamond, NOT Debbie Diamond or Mike D.
David is not going to be a craigslist masseuse after all; I'm glad, he aint' cut out for't.
Tonight I'm going to try out BAR BLANC, one of those newish places lining west 10th street, then abacinate the priest.

a large sheet of limestone entering the gulf at a shallow angle

2008-01-23T07:55:00.000-08:00

Thanks to TV for reel-to-reeling in the performance with palpable hiss, Elise for INSISTING that everyone get more fucked up every single time whether they like it or not, Steve for inviting himself into the fucking drum room instantly every goddamn time I leave it during a recording session, Rat for steadfastly refusing to collaborate and ruining a good record, Dan for EXPECTING free meals and the advocate program for punishing honesty.
about the _ / niger show @ Alligator Alley on 1.17.08;
The good parts being, er, distracting, only the lesser passages does posterity know.
they're going into a song: okay, PAUSE. They're starting to noodle semi-aimlessly: okay, RECORD.

1.23.08

2008-01-23T07:47:00.000-08:00

1/16/07

2008-01-16T07:30:00.000-08:00

said I got som'n right here.

I said I got som'n right here.

said I got someTHING right here.

som'n right HERE.

SOME THING.

1.15.08

2008-01-15T11:46:00.000-08:00

What --remarkable shit is supposed to happen to me everyday?

Theess thorsday I'm going down to Miami to complete my probationary requirements and clerical fantasies ("here's your community service..[zzzip]") and do some mucusal bidnus without irritating the mucosa;
I've coalesced with Steve Bristol and Sasha Weisfeld and who-knows-who-else for our new you-decide-the-idiom unit NIGER ... _ will rehearse and record a set for our next show on the first night of the International Noise Conference.
Last night I dreamt I was smoking tiny buds with my dead brother and grandfather out of a peculiar wooden pipe.
THEY WERE THERE!
With me.
I have also mailordered some poppies that'll put the child in Lewis Carrol's porn.
Here; let's get these pesky ankles behind your ears.

1/12/08

2008-01-12T09:45:00.000-08:00

Last night I went to Alex Grey's Gallery up on 27th and 10th, (west of that 2-block housing project you have to avoid like a drug dealing butte) because they were holding a "XXX figure-drawing class" and I'm almost too embarassed to admit I there.
It was LESS sexy than a plain old figure drawing class and that's saying alot, gulp.
In fact it was emaciated and/or dumpy east village-type sluts, some of whom wouldn't take off their underwear, none of whom were in porn, striking uncompelling poses for not long enough.
There were several supposedly "non-admitted" cameras "rolling" and the amateurish videographical advice being extolled was all I remember overhearing.
Alex's drawing on the invite made it seem good...ay-yi-yi, I did no drawing suffice to say and don't tell anyone I was there.
Their mega-UNINFORMED house-cum-hippy-music is always a downer BTW.
People with "High Consciousnesss" often have bad taste; reminds me of my Dad's acid-wash oversized denim fanny pack in Sedona, AZ.
Highlight of the evening would be the trio of plump gals with me in the elevator who inquired if I would be posing.
neg.

2008-01-11T11:08:00.000-08:00

I love.
I got some hot love.
some gushing burning love.
some gag-inducing scalding powerlove.
too much goddamned love.
hazmat love, it's a fucking liability love.
evil love love evol.
some punishingly good meatallik love.
a phalanx of butcheringly brutalikahn louvre.

@ the disrhythmia show I saw a face in the chipped-paint wall behind the mixing console:

instead of disrhythmia here's a puddle from last night:

1/10/08

2008-01-10T16:04:00.000-08:00

I cannot tell : it would effect the OUTCOME.

i saw comedian David Cross @ 2A, his sarcasm is a force for good, why didn't I say hi?
insecure and taciturn.
violent dreams.
autophagia and the terror of infinite repetition/ clockwork lokdown.

Mick Barr and I start the etudes this Monday 1/14.
I'm thinking that there's enough music in the world and we should just record ourselves practising kinaesthetik kalistheniks; in other words the sound of limbs executing motions, konjugating verbs on their disrespektiv tools; the sound is not the end it is the biprodukt of exercise; thus ETUDES.
half the material will be robotik/austere like a 50-foot high music box from heaven,
the other half will be the most kathartik soul-puke noisecore venting ever produced:
256-note blasts until hoarse vokill khords and wrack't tendons FAIL.

THE ARMISONANCE OF THEOMACHIAN PANOPLY
is
the sound of angelik armour in THE WAR on GOD

dig?

1/08/08

2008-01-08T08:24:00.000-08:00

umm.
thanks to the LBFM who helped me configure my wi fi ;D
no thanks to the spyware --HOLD ON: I'm starting to bore my self and the only good thing about a boor is its spelling.

VAL VALERIAN -the man with four brains- called me today; a defeat for my abstraction.
If you have the slightest interest in me and my musings than treat yourself to the fountain of truth --"truth" doesn''t even do his work justice...DENSITY, SIGNIFICANCE, GRAVITY, MEANING, REALITY touch on what he's providing...and if my ears don't deceive me he's an inveterate smoker which somehow DOES endear him.
Your key to grasping the nature of nature was, is, will be:

http://www.trufax.org/

an oligarchy of unorthodox scientific psychonauts roving around third, fourth and fifth densities in their indefatigable think tank, bullshit under tread.

1/4/08

2008-01-04T08:39:00.000-08:00

new year.

Nappy, You hear?

2008-01-02T10:55:00.000-08:00

One of the benefits of a blog is that it's author begins to realise how very much cannot be exposed.
Now I have no personal need for coversion and I DO have a personal need for oversion, but I also have sabotaged myself with honesty enough to know when to shut the fuckery up.
I have no need for privacy; that's you.
My bidet sits at the center of a basketball court.
My pornography, tho readily available, does not even suffice as such since no money changed hands and by definition pornography is the graphic of prostitution; mine was done purely out of hate.
The color of our balls, the look on our faces, and possibly the worst, THE SOUNDS WE MAKE.
In defense of missi_morta and her firing from suicide girls;
RAPE more often then not is, indeed, "not sexy"..but guess what. When it IS sexy: whoo.
More accurately; rape SHOULDN'T be sexy.
Things that "shouldn't" are, of course, about all our miniature pyscho-personal evangelisms, not about gravity or the without, which we WISH we could decree.
Either way, we are all the product of rape and incest, it just depends how far back you need to go.
The consensual is a modern anomaly, suck on THAT.

Shyla just sent me this auspicious text:
If a good eugenicist really wants to preserve a healthy heritage, in this age of genome surveillance, he would have to reduce mutation in his genomic population so that the levels were well below the standard organic mutagenesis levels of spontaneous and always drifting evolution. Meanwhile, there is a level to nature that is aberrant, always defiant to restriction in flux. So, the concept of heirloom sperm or heritage egg banks is both high-tech reminiscence and an utter impossibility. Archaic past worship has a resolution of variation and a uniformity and characteristic isness. But, the only way to preserve true breeds of past invention is through cloning, increased DNA repair mechanisms or incest. Isolation of purity implies a bottleneck and attempts to use scientific method to preserve a chosen breed must stop time, evolution and chance. Is incest as an identity movement a kind of TSF (Type Specificity
Futurism)? The Branch Davidians thought so. So did Foucault, undamming both the preconceptions and the technics of clade preservation,

“If for more than a century the west has displayed such a strong interest in the prohibition of incest, if more or less by common accord it has been seen as a social universal and one of the points through which every society is obliged to pass on the way to becoming a culture, perhaps this is because it was found to be a means of self defense, not against an incestuous desire, but against the expansion and the implications of this deployment of sexuality which had been set up”.

00/00/0008

2008-01-01T10:51:00.000-08:00

I realised how hilarious this KISS lyric is:
"Shock me!/make me feel better"
as if that change in behavior would be a shock.
Gene Simmons with his ulterior leather-Bob-Hope troops entertainment is nearly as big an asshole as republican "politics-don't-belong-in-rock-n-roll" Alice Cooper...but forget them.

I detested everyone last night; shouldn't have gone out.
I wanted to see them running around in circles on fire pulling their own entrails out furiously as their eyes melted and they screamed hoarsely in unendurable excruciation.
I started out at Glasslands Gallery seeing Dolan's band:

there's some sort of mini garage-punk revival happening around here now; to me that's as culturally bankrupt as that fleeting Swing revival bloodfart from the (early?) 90s, but these new bands are pretty good at it, I guess, tho it is a harbinger of totalitarian doom just like the revival of the American Gladiators show...this time it's the christians sending 'em to the lions.
thumbs up, you're eaten.

Hej birth

2007-12-31T12:06:00.000-08:00

the best thing about 07 was my two friends, Chris Lee and Gerard Klauder, who killed themselves.
I salute their initiativ.
I just wish more people had the guts.

Dolan has a haircut like Steve Priest.
He tends bar at the mars bar, a last bastion of Koch-era new york flavor and his band Electric Shadows are playing at the glasslands where my friends always seems to play.
You got anything better to do on Ledney's birthday?
It is hard to express how much I dislike striking up a conversation.
speak only if it improves on silence.
enjoy solitude.
talk to the hand.
happy new year; let's get this over with.

Throw your life away: go crazy.
It means you've attained REALISATION.
acting like everything is fine is about as fucking INSANE as ANYTHING I can imagine.
We got ammo.
We got the numbers and we got the energy.
they got magic but they're parasites and they're outnumbered.
they lose if WE KNOW WHO WE ARE.
That's WHY we are learning who we are in NONLOCAL SPACE (the net).
Not sure WHAT MATTERS under the looming shadow of THE ESCHATON, tho; cut another rail up.
yeah I did it with meth psychosis.
when I was high outside, like in Beverly Hills, shape shifters would reveal themselves to me (a block away on a hotel patio, manipulating shadows impossibly -NOT a hallucination) because they could see that I COULD SEE.

money, but the conscious ones will always be awake. it's 85% sheep, 10% rich who govern/have power and the other 5% is us.

We are a part of the process of increasing that 5% and inversely proportionally decreasing that 85%.
it's happening NOW, RIGHT FUCKING NOW as your eyes scan this, and our power is nonlocal.
the struggle is neck-and-neck tho.

but we can't actually take on God or LucifarEYE ourselves.

WE ARE LUCIFER: the part of god that sees light.
WE FELL because we have forgotten that we ARE GOD.
The universe is only MEMORY and amnesia in different ratios.
This is a process of self REMINDING, of REMEMBERING.

we're only fascinated because we have no choice; we live in THEIR world. it's their faith, lies and pain that WE (the

Yes, there is no free will.
The future already happened.
The now is an illusion.

innocent people, artists, thinkers, movers and shakers) have

No one is innocent.
Certainly no one incarnated.

to live with. so maybe Chgrist was a savior,

Christ is INTEGRATION.
It means remembering WHO and HOW.

you affiliated or have you ever met Weasal Walter? do you have a record out? i used to be/stilll kinda am

We've been working together for about 15 years.
My new album is out on his label.
It was produced in a dissociative state in the wake of a 5-meO DMT visitation:

http://nowave.pair.com/ugexplode/merch%20tab.html

life/music and i'm just fed up with how the world sees us: as disposable artists with NO future. but i have a future cuz i KNOW future. i am time and space. keep up the excellent

Tell me about it.
Me and Weasel know, like you, what we're worth.
The sociological climate has never been less gratifying.
Mediocrity is celebrated, the pedestrian canonized, the anomalous suppressed, the market saturated.
(DOWNSTATE)

(UPSTATE)

We got some Gravel in.
One of the dumptruckers refused to load onto loose fill, the other complied but had to be pushed out by the bulldozer.

my fucking god

2007-12-30T09:26:00.000-08:00

he let that crackhead steal my discography on Wilton street to deprive you all of my life's work.
My only satisfaction is knowing that it was valueless and discarded like the worthless shit it must be.
If a "chip" weighs .69 tonnes than this is the chip on my shoulder from whence comes my ethnomusikologikal hubris and from whence emanates the radiation of my incentiv.
Was I in a state last friday or what; glad you didn't see.
Thanks to #30 for receipt and reimbursement, thanks to Marcus for the reminder thanks to all the doormen for their disinterest and thanks to the tattoo'ed slut for the bat of a 69-tonne eyelash.
I think I actually hate radiohead MORE than oasis.

Mick Barr cutt hiss hairr

2007-12-28T15:09:00.000-08:00

Is only one of the reasons to frown.
the other is it takes more muscles and Lucifer knows we need to sexercise the mandible.
I have crossed paths with very very rich very very evil reptilian incest satanists (no I wasn't one) and they said to me when I got emotional: "It's better this way"...I wonder WHAT IS THE DEGREE to which the patronizing illuminati elite ARE CORRECT in their view that we, the people, NEED GUIDANCE. The "degree" could be .0001%...but THEY certainly beleive it is 100%.
Until we demand freedom we don't deserve it.

12/26

2007-12-27T04:49:00.000-08:00

Ithyphallic satyriasis is a sociopathological psycho-hemotological condition wherein NO DOCTORS eject you from their commune, what took 'em so long?
Flaccidity is acceptance, especially with sartorial insulation.
Selfish desires, unnacceptable needs and voiced honesty will not make you friends and will hinder new acquisitions by way of scuttlebutt.
My impact will be felt cervically and civically in my new locale to the south ;(

http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.previewBlog&Mytoken=D4B5D8C5-D587-4BE3-B07D56B3616DAD1744400117
I have posted a myspace blog of musicological analysis to clarify the apparently cryptic and byzantine formal corridors of my automatic sonatas for playerpianoforte, certainly my most popular outing to date with sales in the upper 111s, tho widely misunderstood, I suspect.
Gotta go.
I am going to gravel a road today and no one wants to stop me.
Yorgo said XXXmas and so did little Leslie
:** to each.

*

Oh, I think I might have got a piece of ass lined up.
You know the reward center of the brain?
Me too.

*necrophonie nic makes nice pic

the futility

2007-12-26T07:57:00.000-08:00

fuck you.
fuck off.
i don't need anything.
except noisecore.
aww, spellcheck hasn't heard of noisecore, only Hannah "Spread 'em" Montana.
http://www.cfprod.com/noisecore/noisecore.htm

a decidedly unandrogynous peter pan.

12/23/07

2007-12-23T17:13:00.000-08:00

I don't have any gifts, just talent.
I'm out of sense as well if you're looking for the linear.
this shit could get jabberwocky any couplet now.
friends, romans, countrymen; four score and seven just kidding.
I'm'o upload a phone vid @ random; haven't renamed the files/dunno which is which:
TS from 12/21 it is.
when modeling you can go snap-tite or get some glue.
whatever space craft does look like it won't be that gadget-encrusted shit with external piping from the 80s.
It'll look like anamorphic mercury amoebic and polymorphous and it will pilot itself, even pilate itself.
Imagine a world where everything is dipped in chrome...there's some photorealism for you.
photorealism i like because, amongst other things, it proves that even photography is not real, and that the real itself is a conglomerate of associations that are malleable..if the NOVEL ever does appear we may not even be able to SEE IT unless it rhymes with something we already have a profile on...like when you ask the bartender WHAT BOTTLED BEER D'YOU HAVE? and you are literally FACING A ROW OF DIFFERENT BRAND BOTTLES OF BEER...you ask because it's your privelidge to be ignorant and to solicit; a quality for the luxuriant...for the opulent you expect to not even have to request...you EXPECT the wheelbarrow of jailbait and pail of procaine to be refilled ad infinitum add nauseum multiply spoilage with a telepathic tenacity by your loyal-to-the-death house slaves.
I DON'T DATE CIVILIANS.
There has been some HEATED eye contact between me and a female officer and I know you trust me on this.
They KNOW that I KNOW how to come up with an excuse for a full body cavity search.
Everybody WINS.

12/22/07

2007-12-22T17:01:00.001-08:00

ug
so...it's a secret.
they won't credit me...I must have made myself unacknowledgable.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Free_glam

when I correct it I am identified as a vandal, not the revisors of history.

Twisted Sister weren't as looud the 2nd time; fisrt night better: load blown.
JJ French IS wearing a wig and that WAS AJ PERO, not a "replacement".
couldn't find the brunette was she backstage...COULD I have gotten back there?
Never know.
what is this journal?
who is this for?
I hate being CONSCIOUS.
I want freedom from this body.
so fucking OVER THIS.
I don't hate humanity that much..I don't IDENTIFY with them enough to hate them...
I want...
..to fuck some of them...but I don't know if I can look them in the eye anymore...essence denied...quintessence diluted..presence compromised...corpus fried...devoid inside...rhyme itself is tried.
webcam is humorous...it's still a novel sensation to SEE your contact...I talked to Boggy and Cathy in Memphis and Laura and Tetra in Milan this way...they've got each other thank god.
Will I go to this party of people I don't know in Brooklyn tonight?
Probably should.
God, moving to a new city every half a year or so is sociologically EXHAUSTIV, starting over each time it's always me and my briefcase and stained metal shirt stalking past the curious onlooker have I transcended locality yet?
here's Carbon and Conrad from last week.
I do have vids of some of the events herein described.
If I get a piece of ass you'll be the first to see; I promise.

12/21/07

2007-12-21T13:31:00.000-08:00

My new band is
SHMUPPLES.

12/21/07

2007-12-21T12:56:00.000-08:00

I was just lamenting about the autoerotic spew this morning..looking around at the anxious females, the scottish girl who's "only here 'til february" and just realising IT'S EVERYWHERE..now let's lament our being shy and taciturn...when this hot brunette walks up and accosts me about my Twisted motherfuckin' Sister T shirt freshly bought at their concert last night..."how was it?" she asks "It sounded so good" I relate truthfully -it did, people.
They did "Come all ye faithful" and instead of being sarcastic xmas thrash it was DEVOTIONAL HEAVY METAL, I mean BEAUTIFUL and STRONG!
I was a bit stultified by it really...the sincerity and the sonic conviction. Even after all these years I still didn't know they were THAT GOOD...they really fucking ARE.
Dee's hair is still huge and platinum, he had the powder blue eyeliner and J J French's hair was a modern art masterpiece of Jersey hairchitecture it looked MORE artificial highlighted and immobile than a wig but it was attached to scalp; so cool.
A J Pero's replacement is twice as good as he...they fucking slammed for real.
So this delicious brunette is holding two tickets for tonight's sold out show in front of me and I take them and introduce myself and she herself.
Dunno what to even do with this extra ticket...can't invite a female friend that could sabotage...I'll just be as cool as usual and give it to the most deserving person under the marquee.

I have seen Tony Conrad and MV Carbon last week, they were good, I asked Tony about having taped the Shave show at goodbye blue monday and he denied any knowledge, he didn't seem to want to interact with a metal head no matter how mild mannered, maybe it was the Havohej shirt, I wrote about it the next day and the blog didn't save and I said some honest shit about people and places and food and it didn't save and I show pornography of myself to barely-legal Italian girls and I drink too much lately even tho I'm on probation I can rely on the authorities being too busy for this journal and I barely even smoke pot anymore but I don't feel too much clearer which I need to to begin my remote viewing dvd course and I'm going north for christmas which regrettably acknowledges the holiday, gone are the longed-for speeding darkyears of ago of waking up on new years day and realising the mass of christ had slid by unnoticed now that's livin'.

17/12/07

2007-12-17T06:05:00.000-08:00

wow those mutilating necrophile rape portraits she linked me to do pack a punch.
they do test my amorality for weak catenulate links.
hmm, wonder if I'd kill the perpetrator with my own hands.
he "was all laughing inside when I gave her body to her parents" knowing he had ejaculated coitally in her.
i WANT to be that subversive but...i just don't have the mysogeny..
..and destroying the female form is just not...WHY I'M HERE.
I can identify with the beauty-hate of, say, the Hitchcock of "the birds" (sudden avian claw attack on the hairdo of a beautiful bitch's faultless coif), or the Tarantino of "Death Proof" (tire peels out on bitch's face who won't put out), but that's a resentment native to homo sapien sapien.
i can't provide the link here to the photographs of this pathologist-necrophile...that would attach me karmatically to the event.

some fucking band that sounds like an angry the pixies is playing the second half of the riff from "paranoid" with their own lifeless addition and their substitute-teacher-having-a-tantrum vocals.
Indie shit is so foul...it's like medium-metal without FOCUS.
I kind of resent all of you alternativers and your fucking bowl haircuts --just make my latte.
my new band is called HENDRIX WAS MURDER and features Misty Martinez on sax/vocals, she doesn't know yet, and me doing my same shit...just a reason to play the stone until Gallanter forgets not to notice.
I also gotta recruit the cello and/or bass fiddle and viol for the new _ line up.
gotta find a place to play drums until my house is ready..nevermind the Israeli guy who wants references to use his drum closet.
I bought the first Jandek album; shit is EXTREME.
fucking indie shit should take his cue and not go half way on their ennui.

15/12/07

2007-12-15T13:04:00.000-08:00

I had to check to see what day it is, like SCOT LYN YARD.
It's the day of saturn.
Blogs are gay.
Or is the indie?
everyday: i am not scheduled.
pinch consistent loaves.
the bartendress birthday os tonight.
os mutato.
haven't heard from mark, wonder if he saw the record.
got exiled to the pro stack of sunset plaza plasticity from whence none are played.
better the circular file for the proud.
val seems even but he knows IT'S COMING.
gotta love the eschaton; so what are you doing today?
the incentive for acceptable behaviour IS NO LONGER THE RELEVANT CRITERION
for misbehaving.
That's why I am I.
nondor nev I
baruch a toy adonai, youdonai, wedonai, nobady donai.
one of the prices of the psychonaut destiny is the rising tides
and falling
of the water surface of Freud's ice berg.
can lead to indiscretions.
honesty.
a beautiful angel is falling upward to hell as flame licks backward
NIBIRU IS OUR NEMESIS
it pulls the biomagnetic magnetosphere OFF Gaia's vagina.
speaking of.

12/14

2007-12-14T07:51:00.000-08:00

Everything I have to say is something you don't want to hear.
who's reading this?
my fearless journal.
anonimity or no it's the DILIGENCE.
hung over.
My room mate opens my door without knocking to introduce me to the maid, a few seconds shy of an eyefull of morning wood.
I mean a THROBBER; just...unfair.
Better luck next time?
Here's your tip.
Why do hang overs make me so horny?
I mean WORSE THAN USUAL.
I need to put a wrecking on.
Is it the sugar imbalance...dunno.
Uh-oh: here it comes.
I want evangelists to approve this massage.
Soderbergh's remake of "Solaris" was so inept I was underwhelmed into irritation; what a waste.
Can't they tell how misshapen it is?!
Nothing fucking HAPPENS and it BARELY ENDS!
It's not even incomplete enough to be sabotaged...no wonder it was a hush-hush under the carpet release.
That new Zs record is pretty nice, especially the last piece.
I wonder why I've been deliberately occluded from so many wikipedia entries for which I am utterly responsible...oh well, better to be a dick than an asshole...-I heard that.
If you want one of my damn cum-packed dics THEN PAY.

12/13/07

2007-12-13T13:00:00.000-08:00

Every day.
At least it's 13.
Numerologikal mood upswing swig guzzle pound.
I resent the phonetik ambiguity of "C".
At least "Q" has class.
I found the character of Q more interesting than that of Bond.
In fact the concept of coldwar grey-op declassified sharper image catalogue is more interesting than the espionage posited as its excuse.
That has so little to do with the here and now.
The government needs total power.
We can't make decisions for ourselves.
The judgement of life or death, institutional incarceration or (exterior) psychic incarceration should be at the whim of the elite.
Who is "GOOD" should be decide by the evil.
Ahh, it's all working out.
They go crazy when New Order plays.
They become sculpture when The Runaways play.
Send them to FEMA detention centers for extermination; they are moot.
And devout elderly bigots have autonomy over cunt.
PRO LIFE isn't ENOUGH.
Old plutocrats should decide EVERYTHING about a woman's cunt:
OUTLAW MUENSTRATION!!
IT'S A LIFE!
And to the pro-lifers in my own fucking family:....I'd better not say.
In fact I can't say SHIT IN THE CUNTING BLOG.
I WILL BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR THE TRUTH
and, yes,
I DO KNOW SOMETHING.

12/12

2007-12-12T12:20:00.000-08:00

I need health insurance.
I had some gin last night.
There was no high hat clutch or stool so I could barely play the shit.
Brent and Mogan jumped out of the audience and backed me up on drums while I sang myself into the ocean floor, 'til I had nothing left.
Missi put in a friend request.
She's so smart that I feel pedestrian and mediocre in our exchanges.
I don't even know what she can do and she's still a genius.
Speaking of, where's Mick?
Still teching for Blackmoor?
I wanna play cybernetik blurr.
Bad.
If you need a piece of ass don't say so.
So I'm not.

2007-12-11T10:46:00.001-08:00

I just wrote a blog and it didn't save.
that's it for today.

12/10/07

2007-12-10T05:50:00.000-08:00

Last night (Sunday) I Rented "Rescue Dawn"; consummately Herzogian in it's expertise and accuracy, plausibility un-hollywoodness: would I eat maggots for a role?
Also saw "Tideland" an unreleasable Terry Gilliam mistake which you'd have thunk he'd learned not to make already.
The dvd prefaces the feature with an introduction by Gilliam which is really a thinly-veiled apology. He attempts to disguise storyless optical effects-with-no-point as too weird for the common viewer; I TRIED to finish the film and realised it wasn't compulsory: EJECT.
Also saw Michael Moore's "Sicko" and I must say whether you dislike him or his films, ANY opponent of the SUBJECT of this superlatively edited excoriation should be ASHAMED OF THEMSELVES. There is NO EXCUSE for dehumanized avarice, and it's shocking how LITTLE it takes to buy the senate (59k, 139k, 201k, etc.); ONLY they deserve the torture they allow.
So here it is, Monday, the day of the moon.
It is conspicuously warmer at this latitude than in Albany, New York.
Drops instead of flakes and my comforter is too warm.
Right now it snows there; here your jacket is to be carried.
I'm in a wi-fi cafe, a new one across from my filthy new apartment and here I shall not return; I type this under the blare of insipid psyche-tormenting R&B radio.
The hispanic staff like their disco loud in the morning and THAT'S what counts; NOT the preference of the paying customers.
The luxury of the 2nd world is constant distraction ARRRGGHH!!
I don't even want to hear GOOD MUSIC right now for fucksake.
A tall, wide-eyed man who has refused to let the weekend end just popped into the men's room that I face to do more drugs before returning to the exterior.
Another bleary-eyed man sat down nearby as I began this post and has just left after 6 minutes of neglect.
I'm out I can't bear anymore boogaloo.

12/07/07

2007-12-07T12:07:00.000-08:00

I've gotten used to flossing regularly to retard encroaching gum complications..
..despite the fact that the eschaton may arrive in four years time..
The END OF DAYS is one of those rare exceptions where "putting things in perspektiv" is not necessarily AUSPICIOUS;
i.e. "let's (penultimately) reenact the decameron in a cloverleaf road rage rape riot!"

I'm habitating in the East Village, fond thoughts of california (whence I elevated marathon sex sessions to an art form) echoing thru.
Why am I telling you this, extrofenestratrix*?
I've determined that depriving society of my endowments is an unforgivable sin; putting the seat down no longer suffices.

*she who lingers in the nude before her window as provocation to her male quarry, usually unaware of her presence, who lingers outside.