Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Shakespalin

Backstory: Sara Palin "coined" a new word two days ago on Twitter, refudiate. She pulled the tweet down quickly but it was too late. She later tweeted horrendously comparing herself to Shakespeare. I'm not sure it's possible for me to adequately describe how angry that makes me.

I'm not the biggest fan of Shakespeare ever, though I do have a better appreciation for his words after performing them onstage, but that's just dumb. Comparing yourself to one of the best writers ever who has had an incalculable impact on our culture is a sentence that makes me stop listening to you.

But it's not all bad! Twitter came to the rescue of course with the #shakespalin tag and promptly gave a Palin spin to the Bard's words. Hilarity ensues and follows.

(edited to not make me sound like an idiot, though that may be impossible at this point)

Monday, July 19, 2010

New Nobles - Come On

Add together equal parts jump straight up and down pop punk, near virtuoso guitar, a stellar female singer and enough of that country twang to keep things interesting and you get a three piece called New Nobles. I could shorten this review and simply say, I like, it's good, you should buy it. But that wouldn't be doing this album justice.

There's just enough of a countryesque twang to move the music solidly out of mainstream rock but thankfully not enough to turn it into full blown country rock. The guitar is elusive and capturing. Every time you turn around Dean is rocking out a different style. The guitar generally stays within the confines of rock and roll but the tone always changes. From the bluesy solo on “Don't” to the grunge of “L.O.V.” to the pop punk verses of “Right In Front Of My Eyes”, that guitar is always key. Though in a three piece every instrument is critical.

For three piece they make a big noise. These are full songs played with an energy, abandon and sincerity that is missing from rock these days. The songs are remarkably consistent in this age of singles. This album is great back to front with only a minor hiccup around the middle, two mediocre songs surrounding one of the best on the album.

The middle three songs are a conundrum. “Peter Peter” has the energy to turn into something but never does. It seems to be a waste of a great melody and lyrics on a song that doesn't have the necessary energy behind it. The next song “Right In Front Of My Eyes” is one of the best on the album, really catchy vocals over a great bass line and a guitar that is always changing from chords to picking to solo and back. The chorus will be stuck in your head for days, so be warned. Sadly the next song is nowhere near as good and completely different. Most of the songs are high energy rock and roll with tiny bits of pop punk and country

But the aforementioned “L.O.V.” is a mid tempo grunge song completely out of character that never goes anywhere. It just plods along, wasting Jen's great voice simply repeating “l.o.v.” as the guitar slowly crawls along. The last third of the song gets interesting with some psychedelic soloing but most people will be long gone.

Thankfully things kick right back up with “I'll Just Be There” which charges forward with the energy of a promise. The album continues rocking out strong till the last song “Come On” which may be the best song on the album. It's really simple, one riff for the verse and another for the chorus but it comes together in an incredibly catchy package behind Jen's voice.

So if your looking for something that uses all the normal rock and roll touchstones but manages to turn them into something unique and absurdly catchy and is Canadian, you could do a lot worse than this.

official page
facebook 
 cdbaby
if your in peterborough it`s on sale at Moondance I think

Thursday, July 15, 2010

not trying to put word's in anyones mouth here...

Jon Stuart Mill. Philosopher, feminist, popularizer of utilitarianism and all round smart guy. As evidenced by this quotation I came across earlier

Fail

 
credit to whom it's due

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Monday, July 12, 2010

Wednesday, July 07, 2010

Frances Bean Cobain Is Fiddle Tim

Frances Bean Cobain has a show in Los Angeles currently under the name Fiddle Tim. Here are the notebook drawings she's done. Interesting stuff. A little gutterpunk scumfuck for my tastes but still cool

 

Tuesday, July 06, 2010

Garfield Missing Someone

Consumption

So it's stupidly hot here in Peterborough, 23 currently at 1 am. Although nothing like what Winnipeg is having thankfully
 
But since it's too hot to sleep I wrote a poem. It's called Consumption.

Consume.
Consume.
All you do is consume.
Full stop.
You ate everything in sight.
Tore the world apart 
looking for that sweet taste.
Destroyed everything you'll need
Need tomorrow when the sun rises.
Or did you think 
you could stop that too?

Monday, June 28, 2010

White Bloc?

Instead of rioting and causing property destruction that is rarely interpreted properly, here's a thought.


Position yourself between the police  and the peaceful protesters. Act as a barrier between the police and those who want to have their peaceful say so they may actually do so. Link arms, sit down, but do not antagonize. Perhaps use that time to engage the officers in dialoge but don't be an ass about it.

Force the police to strike the first blow. For this to work it must be clear that they acted first, unprovoked and our response is measured. The key is to not antagonize. Allow them to increase the tension and and respond  in kind. Tactics will be met with equal tactics.

Love will be met with love. Fists will be met with fists. Tasers and tear gas will be met with equivalent tactics. But that is not that goal. The goal is to protect the peaceful protesters from the repressive forces that would shut us all up permanatly.

(The whole efficacy of marching is up for debate in my mind but that's another post.)

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

World Burns To Death - Death Is Psychosomatic

We discussed the lyrics to this song in class today :D

Tomorow I'm going to play it...

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Lizards Have Personalities

For some reason I only recently started listening to screamo. One of the first bands I discovered is a three piece from Kansas called Lizards Have Personalities. They've put out two eps now, In All Honesty and Snows Of Kilimanjaro.

In All Honesty doesn't really sound like screamo to me. Andrew's voice isn't quite in that unintelligible scream, more of a post-hardcore raspy style vocal. A a slightly tuneful Cedric Bixler-Zavala perhaps. It was the guitar that drew me in though. I was expecting the same thing every other band does, alternating raging power chords with softer picking parts. And there were definitely some bits that worked that, The Heart's Descent is really only half a good song, but on the whole it sounds like a really solid post-hardcore album.

They've put their music out for free so buy a t-shirt or something. These guys hopefully have the chops to go the distance.


in all honesty


"But nothing is set in stone/The center can not hold./By now you've come to know,/We're floating lifeless and alone."

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Garfield without you know you who

garfield without garfield 1

Exposing the inner schizophrenia of one Jon Arbuckle

Monday, June 14, 2010

ThisIsPossible

There's a difference between the army and the police. The first is intended as a defensive force, guns pointed out towards the enemy. The other is an offensive force with their guns pointed at us, forcing us to obey their laws.

If we are to have nations then we must have borders. If we must have borders then we must at the very least have a force to defend said borders. I speak from a Canadian perspective, it is imperative we have an armed force at our border to prevent American aggression and to limit the flow of guns and hard drugs into Canada. That force, designed to protect the population and aim their guns outward, is never used by a legitimate government to attack their own people. I believe that most reasonable people would see that as an act of aggression by their government and rise up in some fashion. But as long as the army is protecting the population and not engaging civilians they are loved and venerated.

The police are completely different. They are an armed force with their guns pointed at those within their own society. They are group of selected individuals, trained to attack civilians. They carry weapons designed to instil compliance and fear and have the authority to ruin lives on a whim.

If you are wrongfully arrested, as millions are every year, you will probably lose your job. You can say goodbye to any chance at a governmental scholarship if you are young. Even if the charges are dropped against you the arrest will show up on any background checks required for future employment.

We have a multitude of gangs in our world. Depending on your definition everything from a Warrior Society to the Hell's Angels to the 16 year olds hanging out down the block constitute a gang. But only one hides behind a shield. Only one has the governments backing to shoot you dead on a whim. Only one wears a uniform and claims to be protecting us.

They protect us by shooting us. Or by locking us up in prison. Prison does nothing except turn petty thieves into career criminals. Prisons are universities of crime with free tuition, room and board provided by your government. Doesn't sound like much protection to me.

So where do we go from here? Certainly not by shooting at or ambushing police officers. For whatever reason they have decided to put their lives on the line to defend our democracy, or at least they believe that I hope. And that, at the very least, is worthy of a modicum of respect. To truly fuck the police we must get rid of them. We must show them that another world is possible. One where they are not needed.

A world where a lady doesn't need to steal a can of meat so she can feed her child. A world where a father of three doesn't have to rob a liquor store to feed his kids because he got fired from the plant. And that my friends, is up you.

Friday, June 04, 2010

kronstadt

I am an anarchist because I scorn and detest all authority, since all authority is founded on injustice, exploitation, and compulsion over the human personality. Authority dehumanizes the individual and makes him a slave.
I am opponent of private property when it is held by individual capitalists for private property is theft.
I am an anarchist because I am subject to unstinting criticism and censure mainstream morality as well as religion which shrouds the human personality in darkness and prevents its independent development.
I am an anarchist because I a can not remain silent while the propertied class oppresses and humiliates the property less workers and peasants. In such circumstances only corpses can remains silent, not live human beings.
I am an anarchist because I believe in the truth of the anarchist ideal, which seeks to liberate mankind from the authority of capitalism and the deception of religion.
I am an anarchist because I believe only in the creative powers and independence of a united working class not in the leaders of the parties or government.


- A Russian Soldier

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Police

Any society that requires gun toting badge protected muscle men to enforce their laws can not be legitimate. A government is based on and exists solely by the people's authority and should have no need for an armed force to enforce their laws on those people. A legitimate government that truly represents the will of the people, the only kind worth supporting, will have no laws that people do no already follow in their day to day lives.
If the government requires an armed force to convince us of their authority, I say they have failed soundly. The government that requires a police force to enforce its authority can not be legitimate. If in fact, violence is a taboo in our society, then the government, of all our institutions, should not be be using it. The bald faced lies required to maintain such a double standard will rot a country from the inside out.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Anarchism

Everyone defines anarchy for themselves.
I would not dare to define it for you.
This is what I think.

An anarchist is a grown person daring to resist the unjust authority of the archetypal parents.

Anarchism was born of a moral revolt against social injustice.
It must be mighty and ruthless, prepared to do whatever is necessary to achieve justice and vengeance of the people by the people.

I hope the sun of righteousness and truth and justice will come to bathe in its balmy light,
an emancipated world

We will dance the Ravachole until there are no more wars, no more quarrels, no more jealousy, no more theft, no more assassinations, no more police, no more judges, no more administration

Violence may be the midwife to change but our destructive urge is also a creative one.
We do not destroy simply to destroy.
We clear the land of the parasites and weeds so the people may reclaim it.

If we are monsters it is because you have made us so.
If we are to be feared it is because you are corrupt.

Our modern civilization is a Moloch temple reared upon the bodies of slaughtered slaves.
Let us do what we must, we can not equal the crimes our masters.

We shall perform the last funeral rites over a decaying and dying social system.
Out of it's ashes will rise the regenerated individual.
The bold and daring rebel.

Anarchism depends on waking you up.
On making you realize that you have immense power and capabilities but have been numbed to sleep.
We are so accustomed to obedience and passivity we must be shocked awake.


I did not write this. I agree with most of it

Monday, December 14, 2009

new record

Can you vibrate as much as a sex toy?

Created by Sex Toys.org

(Found on a bathroom wall somewhere in the U.S.A.)

You've taken over my mind. You've raped my thoughts with your image viruses then sold me fake cures for your own disease. Your words and pictures scream orders at me like angry prison wardens. When I cover my ears, your voices echo in my head. I hate you. When I see your billboards, your talk shows, your rock concerts and your factories, when I see the work of your twisted libidos, I want to kill you. I want to set fires, plant bombs, derail trains. I want to smash your buildings and tear at your bodies until the skin of my hands is worn to the bone. I am filled with a rage that burns my eyes.

I don't want to feel this way. You have done this to me. These feelings are the fruits of your multi-billion dollar sowing. And I am not alone. There are others like me out here. Every suicide, every madman, every man and woman who gets a gun and just starts shooting -- these are your illegitimate children. They don't all know what they are doing. All they know is hate for the invisible walls which you have raised around them, hate for the narrow path you have tried to make them walk. And the innocent pay in blood for your negligence.

Remember this: My mind is big. The more you try to push me down and make me small, the greater the pressure inside me becomes. The greater the pressure, the greater the chance of an explosion. There was once a time when I felt love, but now I feel only hate and anger, and fear at what I might do. And you can tell me to "BE HAPPY," but I know that you really mean "BE QUIET".

Believe me, I want to be happy. You stand in my way.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Dead Of Night

The church was deserted.
We were married in the dead of night.
No one around to see our glorious unity.
when we walk into those fields
We reap the harvest the others have sown.
With time on our sides
all I have to do is sit back and write,
wait for you to self-destruct
and take me out
in your beautiful flamewreck.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

A Day In The Park

Frogs are dancing in the park
dogs are chewing on some bark.
Ducks swim by, nibble on some bread
and amorous couple give each other head.

There's a big black man in a small pink suit
trying to talk to a naked old coot.
They both want some sunshine
but they've both run out of time

Now Playing: System Of A Down - Mesmerize

Friday, May 15, 2009

Broken People

We've been trying to tell this story for years
but they only ever belive me after too many beers.
Sit upon taht stool and complian about their lot
they commit lots of crimes, pray they never get caught.
Pull a big job every year or two
that's the way to keep away the blues.
Some say they try too hard
but you haveto, if you want another drink at the bar.

No matter what you say
no matter what you do
they'll always dig a hole
just big enough for you.
They'll throw you into a little box
hold you until you decide to talk.

Currently Playing: Vietnam - Vietnam

Thursday, May 14, 2009

The Chamber

People are here to watch.
How can they believe
In a system that kills
without discrimination?
Don't they know I'm human too?
I too have a soul!
I too feel pain!
Simply because I have renounced
the light. Does not mean
I'm a bag of meat
that can be destroyed on a whim.
What happened to my rights?
I've paid your price
my penance in blood!
I'm not scared to die
I'm scared to die alone.
They strap me in,
they think I'll struggle.
They can not know,
I've already given up hope.
There's no life left for me
hasn't been for fifteen long years.
There's nothing left to do.
Except pray.
Pray that God will accept my broken soul.
I once knew the light
but now only Darkness touches my soul.
The gas enters my body.
The pain is like nothing
I've felt before.
Every nerve ending is on fire.
So this is how....

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

The Blackened Room

He paces the Blackened Room.
The one he knows so well.
Ten paces right, ten paces left is all.
Nothing except for a cot and a candle.
No window, no lights, just darkness.
This cell has been His home,
for the past fifteen years.
For fifteen years no natural light,
no companionship except the rats.
So He waits.
He waits for the day when they will come
and take Him to the Chamber.
"It's been too long" they cry
"we need his blood!" they moan.
But this man has none to give
for he was drained long ago
locked in the Darkened Room.
He has paid His penance.
Every day is like a year
when the mind is solitary.
No one to talk to
no one to see.
The mind turns in on itself
snacks on itself in glee.
Slowly, slowly insanity comes
unnoticed at first then roaring through the cage.
He hears the footsteps outside his door
never sure if they're real or not.
The key turns in the lock
but the door won't open.
The Blackened Room won't give up its prey.
The Blackened Room is God.
The door creaks open
the light pierces his eyes, He turns away.
Darkness again,
Darkness forever.
The hall seems to stretch out before him.
Everyone avoids my glance
acts as if they don't know me,
as if we haven't already
spent a lifetime together.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Sharing Books

A few months back I was flying down to mexico for spring break. I finished all my books on the first flight to Austin and was talking to the flight attendant about having nothing to read. He reached into a locker and handed me Robert B. Parker`s Stranger In Paradise. Not really my type of book but I started to read it. Now I`m at home and I know a few people who do like this type of book.

So I thought I would give it away and track where it goes. Could be interesting. I also have a couple of other books if anyone is interested.

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

Ralph Ellison - Going To The Territory

`Geography as a symbol of the unknown unluded not only places, but conditions relating to their racially defined status and the complex mystery of a society from which they'd been excluded`

Here I think Ellison is talking about how the history and possibly the future of the race is built into the geography of where they were born and lived out their lives.

`we were...introduced to one of the most precious of American freedoms, which is the freedom to broaden our personal culture by absorbing the cultures of others.`

vernacular as a dynamic process in which the most refined styles from the past are continually merged with the play-it-by-eye-and-by-ear improvisations which we invent in our efforts to control our environment and entertain ourselves

I think Ellison is saying here that language must be a continuously evolving thing, one that we use to control our world but also to move it forward and combine it with new ideas generated by minority cultures.

`In this country it is in the nature of cultural styles to become detached from their places of origin, so it is possible that in their frenzy the kids don't even realise they are sounding like black Baptists. Being Americans who are influenced by the vernacular, it is natural for them to seek out those styles which provide them with a feeling of being most in harmony with the undefined aspects of American experience. In other words, they're seeking the homeness of home.`

`It was as though I had come to the Eden of American culture and found myself indecisive as to which of it's fruits were free for my picking. Thus. for all my bright expectations, my explorations had taken on a certain aspects of an unanticipated and amorphous rite of initiation in which the celebrant - if indeed one existed - remained mute and beyond my range of ear and vision.` p 148

This is a fairly common theme with Ellisons writing , I think it shows up in the Invisible Man. The man is searching for some sort of initiation rite that will bring him into the world in it`s fullest capacity. Something that will make him tangibly feel different. In Richard Wright`s autobiography Black Boy the fight near the end takes on that meaning, of an iniation or rite of passage. But no matter how well you accomplish your task you never achieve those new feelings. It doesn`t feel any different than any other accomplishment. So you become stagnant and go back to doing smaller things.

`...it should be remembered that worms teach small earthly truths even as serpents teach theology.` p 149

`A Southern bus was a contraption contrived by laying the South's social pyramid on its side, knocking out a few strategic holes and rendering it vehicular through the addition of engine, windows and wheels. Thus converted, with the sharp apex of the pyramid blunted and equipped with fare box and steering gear, and it's sprawling base curtailed severely and narrowly aligned...a ride in such a vehicle became, at least for Negro, as unpredictable as a trip in a spaceship doomed to be caught in the time warp of history - that man made "fourth dimension" which ever confounds our American grasp of "real"or actual tie or duration.` p 155

`For since it was an undisputed fact that whites and blacks were of different species, it followed that they could by no means be expected to laugh at the same things. Therefore, when whites found themselves joining in with the coarse
merriment issuing from the laughing-barrels. they suffered the double embarrassment of laughing against their God-given nature while being unsure of exactly why. or at what, specifically, they were laughing. Which mean that somehow the Negro in the barrel had them over a barrel.` p 192

Here Ellison is making reference to laughing barrels. In slavery time white people apparently didn`t like watching black people laugh so they made them laugh into barrels.

"...a gift of freedom arrived wrapped in the guise of disaster. It is ironic, but no less true, that the most tragic incident of our history, the Civil War was a disaster which ended American slavery." p 204

"...dancing of those slaves who...imitated the steps so gravely performed by their masters within and then added to them their own special flair...The whites, looking out at the activity in the yard, thought that they were being flattered by imitation and were amused by the incongruity of tattered blacks dancing courtly steps, while missing completely the fact that before their eyes a European cultural form was becoming Americanized, undergoing a metamorphosis through the mocking activity of a people partially sprung from Africa." 223/224

`Each must live within the isolation of his own senses, dreams, and memories; each must die his own death.` P 275

`With few exceptions our energies as writers have too often focused upon outside definitions of reality, and we've used literature for racial polemics rather than as an agency have seen and felt it.` p 282

I feel that he is slighting some of the black power movements that have tried to focus on the pain and suffering of the people perhaps the expense of the narrative. But then again, he also says the novel is the most important written art form. Which is so completely wrong it`s almost funny.

`We back away from the chaos of experience and from ourselves, and we depict the humour as well as the horror of our living. We project Negro life in a metaphysical perspective and we have seen it with a complexity of vision that seldom gets into our writing.` p 283

`...the writing of novels is the damnedest thing that I ever go into, and I've been into some damnable things.` p 208

Friday, April 10, 2009

Sunday, April 05, 2009

wtf of the moment

So I was reading Rage Against The Man-Chine and she posted this Ashley Madison video.

Saturday, April 04, 2009

music trivia

I found this site today, http://philbrodieband.com/music_trivia.htm. I don't know how true some of these are but they're interesting nonetheless

*Jimmy Page's first session job for the Decca Label was the recording of "Diamonds" by Jet Harris & Tony Meehan, which went to Number 1 on the singles chart in 1963

*The piano player on Art Garfunkel's "Bridge Over Troubled Waters" is Larry Knechtel of the group "Bread"

*On the 1977 Emerson, Lake and Palmer tour, there were 63 roadies , including a karate instructor for Palmer and their own doctor. It was also rumored they had a "carpet roadie," whose job was to transport and sweep the Persian rug Lake stood on during the concerts. They also used a 70 piece orchestra.

*Rolling Stones guitarist, Brian Jones, played oboe on "Baby You're A Rich Man" by the Beatles

*Rod Stewart was in a group called 'Shotgun Express' with Peter Green and Mick Fleetwood (the latter two went on to form Fleetwood Mac)

*Paul Bruce Dickinson (who went by the name Bruce Bruce before joining Iron Maiden) released a single with Rowan Atkinson in the UK. It was a cover of Alice Cooper's "(I Want to Be) Elected," and the artists were credited as "Mr. Bean and the Smear Campaign".

*Billy Joel played piano on The Shangri-Las' "Leader Of The Pack" (1964)

*You can sing the chorus of the Beach Boys "Surfing USA" along with Chuck Berry's "Sweet Little Sixteen"

*Themes from Unforgiven, A Perfect World, The Bridges of Madison County, and Absolute Power were all written by Clint Eastwood

*Cockney Rebel bass player Paul Jeffreys was one of the 270 passengers on Pan-Am flight 103 killed by a terrorist bomb when the plane crashed over Lockerbie, Scotland. Sex Pistol John Lydon and his wife, Nora missed the flight because his wife hadn't packed in time. The Four Tops also had been booked onto the flight returning to the States for Christmas but missed it after a recording session over ran.

*'Bohemian Rhapsody' by Queen which contains the famous "mamma mia, mamma mia, mamma mia let me go" line, was knocked off the No.1 position on the UK chart by Abba's 'Mamma Mia' (January 1976).

*Previous to April 1966, David Bowie had recorded under the name of David Jones and The Lower Third.

*Alanis Morissette appeared on the talent show Star Search in 1989 (where she performed a version of the Osmonds' "One Bad Apple") but lost to a singing cowboy named Chad.

*James Brown's wife tried to get her traffic tickets dismissed because of "diplomatic immunity" in June of 1988. She claimed her husband is the official "ambassador of soul". She lost the case

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Monday, March 30, 2009

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Friday, March 27, 2009

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Thursday's and Incubus

What would happen
if I told you to drive?
Which way would your thoughts run me?
Straight off the cliff
throw off me the mountain.
Free fall
all ready fallen.
Free fallen but I've already fallen.

I dunno, maybe I try to hard

Friday, November 21, 2008

Everyone Hates Chad Kroeger

First of all, I love stumble upon. And when it brings theme's, it becomes very obvious. One hiliarious, but bordering on annoying, is the hatred of Nickelback. We've all heard the comparison of How You Remind Me in one speaker and Someday in the other and hearing the exact same song.

But did you know that Chad Kroeger can do an amazing act. Ah, If only the internet had the magical powers those who send chain emails wish it did.

For a real world example of how much Nickelback actually suck, check this video, hilarious to say the least.

But did you know that Nickelback causes global warming? Join in my blockade and save our world and our ears!

Friday, November 14, 2008

Rosie the Riveter sketch

I'm not sure if this is funny or not, but it sure amused me. I hope the concepts are clear enough, nothing too complicated here

A house with 4 long corridors connecting to 4 almost turret like buildings.
Zoom into one of the turrets, it ‘s a fancy dining room table with a table set for 3. Only the mother and the son are present and they are both fuming at the empty place at the table.
Cut to the boy sitting on his bed swinging his legs. He looks at the phone in his hand, picks it up and dials. Cut to a bubble of his father and him talking to each other connected by a telephone cord.
“We missed you at dinner”
“I was busy”
“We both know where you were”
“Look, now isn’t the best time.”
“I’m coming over”
“Now is not a good time jimmy!”
“I don’t care, I ‘ll see you soon!”

The boys circle vanishes and the man’s expands to reveal the entire room. He is lying next to his wife in bed. They are both sweaty and naked. He looks at her “That was Jimmy, he’ll be here in a minute.”
Jimmy kicks down the door and is immediately embarrassed. He straightens himself and accuses his dad “So where were you for dinner?” His wife takes up the tone and starts asking the same thing.
slides out from under the bed and winks. Cut to next scene

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Danny

For lack of a better title at the moment, this story is called Danny. It's less than 800 words so it should go really quickly if you only got a minute.

The sun was setting and Danny was stoned, he had been smoking in the sun since noon so by now he was as mellow as mellow can get. He didn’t notice when Gloria sat down next to him. After a minute he looked over and saw her “Oh, hey sis, when did you get here?” She smiled softly, “Just a minute ago Danny, don’t worry.” She lit up her smoke. “So you missed it then.” Danny’s face turned an even whiter shade of pale as Gloria passed her smoke to him. “Missed what?” Danny laughed a little “Me telling him that I’ve lost that three quarters of a million he gave me for the start up.” Gloria grabbed her smoke back “Are you trying to kill the old man?” Danny smirked “He certainly tried to kill me.” Gloria blinked. Danny cleared his throat and spat into the sand.

“I’m not worried though, I’ve been in tighter spots before.” Gloria shook her head, the smoke settling around them in the lack of a breeze. “Not with dad’s money you haven’t.” “So why are you here Gloria?” Danny tries to stand up, his legs swaying the whole way. He holds his hand out to Gloria expecting support but she pulls him down face first into the sand. Gloria starts laughing but it quickly turns into a deep hacking cough. Danny flips onto his back and stares at the stars.

“Hey Gloria?”
“Yeah Danny?”
“What am I going to do?”
“The same thing you always do Daniel Jacob March. You’ll mope for a while, find a girl who finds your stoned melancholy sexy, dump her and go on with your life.”
Danny got up. “Is that what you think of me?”
“Gloria giggles a little. “Pardon?”
“So I’m just some lazy stoner pervert then”
“You left out charming” Gloria said with a grin
“Well you know what Gloria?” Danny got back on his feet, solid as a rock.
Gloria looked at him mildly “What Danny”

“You’re wrong. I’m not just some stoned bachelor, you’ll see.” He pulled out his cell to call a cab, because they had reposed his Mazda. Danny walked off to the road, leaving his sister amazed and his shoes buried in the sand. His sister caught up with him and tried to hand his shoes back, but without even looking down Danny just dropped them and walked over the shoes and kept walking. Gloria knelt down to pick them up and said “What am I supposed to tell dad?” Danny turns back but doesn’t stop walking. He raises his arms in frustration and says “tell him…tell him I’m going to find God!” Gloria laughs awkwardly and turns back to the house.

Danny sits at the picnic table and lights his 2nd last smoke as he waits for the cab. Great, now what have I gotten myself into, he thinks. Maybe Twiggy knows someone who can help me. The cab ride was short because the bad part of town that Danny could now afford to stay in was close to the beach. Up until last week he had been living in a penthouse, on top of the world. Now he had enough money for 3 weeks at the White House, no bath.

Danny paid the cabby what little money had left and went inside the White House. It was country & western night. Every night could be C & W night at the White House, but on Thursdays they cover the floor in sawdust and hide the spittoons. Danny trudged over to the front desk and said hello to Twiggy. Twiggy was in hell. He was the tallest, skinniest, most punk rock white kid Danny had ever seen and was in the running for most facial piercing’s. He had only taken the job because it came with a free room.

“Yeah Danny, one from a Mr. March.” Twiggy passed the message to Danny who crumpled it up and threw it in the trash without reading.
“Where am I Twiggy?”
“I don’t know man, you just stepped out.”
“You’re a real friend Twiggy, have fun tonight”
Twiggy rolls his eyes “You go to hell man”
Danny just laughs “Hey man, you know where I can find God?”
Twiggy thinks for a minute. “Isn’t He that dude that hangs out back of the KFC?”
It was Danny’s turn to think. “Could be man, you never know. Thanks.”
As Danny was pushing the door open to leave he heard Twiggy yell “Hold on a minute man!” Danny turned just in time to catch Twiggy’s doc marten boots. “I can’t ta-” “Shut the hell up and get outta here man.” The door swung shut.

Thursday, November 06, 2008

The End Of A Forgotten Love Song

Headphones on.
Eyes stuck in my book,
waiting for the world
to pass me by.
Hoping I don't get damned
for not wanting to try.

Friday, October 03, 2008

A Different View

I went for a walk
just the other day.
Pulled my head out of my ass
and this is what I had to say.
You gotta listen to me brothers
you gotta listen to the beat
you gotta listen to the melody
I can hear it through my feet

Strolling through the midnight palms
I thought I heard a question mark
He asked me if it would be okay
if he could borrow some time.

Come on out and stretch your legs
a different view is all you need
We are all so mighty out here
we might as well die young
we might as well die young

underneath the crescent moon
we search the for the hidden frog
on fool it`s just the ice
the other wants his time back
the other wants his time back

You gotta listen to me brothers
you gotta listen to the beat
you gotta listen to the melody
I can hear it through my feet

blindsided by the embers
i can still the moon falling
their ears are too clogged with prophets
they`ll never know.

You`ve locked your shadow on the wall
if you wanna erase it you`ll have to crawl
no not for me, I wouldn`t let that be
I know you want to be free

Thursday, October 02, 2008

16 Stones

There are 2 ways to read these, the first is each 4 lines is it own separate mini poem or you can read it as one giant poem that means....something or other.


The inukshuk stands between us
16 stones and an ancient legend
supposed to tell me where to go
but all it wants to do
is keep me away.

I was led to the alter
for the worship of water
Rushing around over the rocks
twisting my head and losing the plots

Urban sprawl
a dead motif
too many crows for a murder
might as well be 10 000 feet deep.

I was lead to the water
but was not forced to drink
the priests gulp it down
and piss out forgiveness

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Steel Stetson

Though his beard hangs long with frost
his memory has remained true.
He may remember what is lost
but he won't tell you 'till it's due.
"Good luck with that"
the man with the steel stetson hacked.
His cold blue eyes
belong to his huskies
but his anger
belongs to me.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

A Series of Small Roadtrip Poems

Father you made me leave
mother you made me follow.
As a generation we are one
to your basements we do flock.



Farmers burn the land
as we burn dinosaurs.
Rolling along the network of scars
that cover our promises.



A quaint little farmhouse
in the middle of nowhere.
Strings hold our minds together
occam's razor has to fall.


Would you be able to
fit your whole life and
all the things you bought into a metal box
being towed by another metal box?

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Social Circles

Two social circles
meeting in a jumble
of egos, identities and gender.
Never knowing
who's touched nerve
or who thinks they're batman
or even bathroom man.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

The Bloodkin

Shed the bloodkin
as quickly as they came.
For though you shall both burn bright
one shall feed off the other's light
and the other shall only last halfway
through this long hot summers night.

Tie the bloodknots off.
Stop the circulation.
Reach in your viens and find your strength
Rip it out so you can feed.
There is no truth you can bleed.

Saturday, December 29, 2007

A bible quote?

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Scars

Are my scars permanent?
Can anyone else see what they show?
Lessons left unlearned until the final hour
burned themselves into my flesh
as a reminder of things left undone.
When my skin blisters, pops and peals
will the flesh underneath tell your story or mine?

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Stir - With - A - HandGrenade

I stood over the yawning abyss,
(All my sins showing, both mortal and not.)
I saw my brother thrashing on the floor.

What I mistook for death like thrashes
were actually moments of joy.

The hell cavern below,
(the one we all call home)
was a place of repast and repentance and hope.

I stirred the pot, I turned up the heat
I did the dirty dead
that my brother would not ever do.

Signals get crossed
in the fog, in the woods.
Kitties come and go,
Lord knows what they’ve seen.


There are those who live here
but it is not their rightful home,

Sunday, November 04, 2007

The Watchmen - Stereo

I don`t know why, but i think this is a really awesome song.

My life is a stereo, how loud does it go?
What songs do I know? What ever happened to my plans?
Whatever happened to the life I thought I had?

My life is a stereo, kinda cheaply made though
How bad does it show? Whatever did become of all my friends?
Whatever happened to the likes of all of them?

My life is a stereo, turn me on and let's go
Turn me up louder, I'll scream as loud and clear as I can scream
And if you like what you're hearing, please hang on to me

But I like being here
And I'm all hooked up wrong
Hang on to me, I'm one in a million
One in a million, one in a million
Please hang on to me

My life is a stereo, outphased but you know
60 cycles humming, whatever happened to my friends?
Whatever happened to the likes of all of them?

Oh, I like being here
And I'm all hooked up wrong
Hang on to me, I'm one in a million
One in a million, one in a million

And my lights are like candles
I'm so afraid of new technology
I'm in the race and I don't want to be
Yeah I'm so afraid of what's to come for me
I'm in a race and I don't, I don't want to be

Life ends in a stereo, pack me up and let's go
Put me anywhere, please don't think of leaving me behind
Whatever happens to you, I'll get on just fine

I'm one of a million, one of a million
One of a million, one of a million
One of a million, one of a million
One of a million, ooohhh
Ah, ladada

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Something New

I'm gonna try something a little new for a bit. I've been drawing doodles on my computer so I'll put those up for a while.

Friday, September 07, 2007

Hard To Sleep

It's hard to sleep
with your mind on the moon
and your soul miles away.
You thought you made a clean breakaway
but it turns out the pains here to stay.
Though your body is willing to move on and forget
your mind is not yet ready
to forgive and never look back.
Despite what you say
the song remains the same
and the memory will always remain.
Burned into the newfound flesh
(the only un-scarred skin I can find)