Monday, July 23, 2007

remember that band sick of it all?

I'm tedious and I ignore all the tells. i'm a bad poker player and it's because i lack patience, patience for you, patience for God, patience for people's disheartening lack of understanding. i analyze the wrong part of the machine and get all bent out of shape, and it turns into some dizzying dance of futile protest, and the machine keeps spitting its grease all over the rivers and plains, and through the speakers, onto the pages of magazines and tv commercials. i'm growing tired and exhausted of the view, the bright colors and cheap melodies, mopped up from the floor after the shows from years ago, squeezed into a bucket with some bleach and poured into plastic cups, swallowed and poisoned and tricked and laughing. and then there's me, i'm kind of indifferent about it all, the excitement comes from loneliness and folk songs and loud feedback wretchedness. the rub and low soft 60 watt bulbs, tv's on mute and creativity giving way to laziness and lust. i'll write a few words and my head will roll off my shoulders and land with my eyes towards the floor, they used to point towards the ceiling-- ya know, looking up--now they just lie where they fall, cause the sky is the same as the dirt. it's all a mess of rolling stone and teen beat. it's an almagamation of true love and highschool betrayal. it's a combination of ambition and reality..they always stand at odds. ambition is really just a ghost that teases you with possibilities and dreams realized. pessimism is peaceful to me, you can just lie and watch it all fold, just as you expected, keep your feet dry and watch the trash form some kind of smiling "told ya so" look. but all is fine, I leave for the day and God makes the bed, and i come home, only to fuck it up again. i watch TV cause it distracts me from music, and music distracts me from myself, or makes me aware of myself, either one is desired. is desire a sign of deficiency? i read that today, or is desire a sign of being human..well, maybe the intrinsic truth of humans rests in deficiency. play the blues and forget it the next day.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007


the catholic church in LA has sexual abuse insurance? wow.

Monday, July 16, 2007

good song

this is a belle and sebastian song, i like it

And the moment will come when composure returns
Put a face on the world, turn your back to the wall
And you walk twenty yards with your head in the air
Down the Liberty Hill, where the fashion brigade
Look with curious eyes on your raggedy way
And for once in your life you've got nothing to say
And could this be the time when somebody will come
To say, "Look at yourself, you're not much used to anyone"

Take a walk in the park, take a valium pill
Read the letter you got from the memory girl
But it takes more than this to make sense of the day
Yeah it takes more than milk to get rid of the taste
And you trusted to this, and you trusted to that
And when you saw it all come, it was waving the flag
Of the United States of Calamity, hey!
After all that you've done, boy, I know you're going to pay

In the morning you come to the ladies' salon
To get all fitted out for The Paperback Throne
But the people are living far away from the place
Where you wanted to help, your a bit of a waste
And the puzzle will last till somebody will say
"There's a lot to be done while your head is still young"
If you put down your pen, leave your worries behind
Then the moment will come, and the memory will shine

Now the trouble is over, everybody got paid
Everybody is happy, they are glad that they came
Then you go to the place where you've finally found
You can look at yourself sleep the clock around

Sunday, July 15, 2007


i love patsy cline, my mom likes her too.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

everybody does NOT love raymond.

I hate that when I come home from the studio, I see the preview channel and TBS is showing like one episode of Seinfeld and like four of Everybody Loves Raymond. I don't mind Everybody Loves Raymond, I just don't want to watch four episodes. I really want a Seinfeld channel. When I was in college, I was at a show at the House of Blues in Orlando and I saw this girl. She had really innocent curly brown hair, and a really colorful sweater with horizontal stripes. I think there were red stripes, on pink stripes, on orange stripes, on yellow strips...a lot of acidic, brilliant colors. Anyway, I told her that I loved her sweater and I e-mailed her later. The e-mail was very unobtrusive, the opposite of invasive. She responded with a very presumptous response, it said something like, "I have a boyfriend." Anyway, I was persistant and I got to know her. She knew a whole lot about music, she had a whole slew of Bob Dylan records, REM, the Band, really good stuff. That enough is to keep me around. She had a lot of drawing on her ceilings, she flew kites and walked around her yard in her feet a lot. One time, we were watching Seinfeld on her couch and we kissed, I think it may have only happened that one time. Her dad was the most laid back man I know. He would slouch on his lawn mower, with a big summer hat shading his face. Her and I did this thing where we wrote down all of our favorite things down and see how many we could list was like 3 pages front and back. She was more optimistic than me, super smart, and although it may seem weird to say, she kind of reminds of soft soap....very soft skin, a comforting natural scent, a good organic essence. We kind of lost touch because I was always going on tour, and I've hung out with her once or twice since then. She's changed a lot, but I think mostly it was a natural change from who she was when I knew her, but since I hadn't seen her in so long, it seemed strange. Last time I saw her, we drank a beer at a bar, and then walked around Orlando, over by some construction site. I felt like we didn't have much to talk about. Maybe we never did, it was more just a good feeling she gave me, she was a hippy, and unpredictable in her opinions..I could never really guess what she'd say about certain things. She would tell me stories of how she would make videos for her boyfriend who lived in North Carolina. She'd take baths and bring the video camera in with her, but there wasn't anything scandalous about it, I suppose she thought of herself in the tub as just a body getting clean, with an intentional hint of seduction which she kept so subtle, and for the most part very innocent, like watching an infant in a sink full of water. She mad me a mixed tape which I still have, she painted it thick with yellow and green and black. One time, we sat in some hammocks and wrote letters to each other, all while being merely feet away from one another, I felt pressure to say things that would impress her, which wasn't the point really. I never really committed to wanting to be with her, and she never implied that she wanted was just a relationship that bordered on being something deeper, but I don't think either of us wanted ther repsonsibility. It was more fun to just hint at things, hold hands on rare occasions and just keep each other guessing. Although I may be remebering things in my favor, I wouldn't be suprised if I was, in reality, very transparent in my desire to be with her. I think I'm very transparent. "I'm so transparent I disappear"

Monday, July 09, 2007

art suffer england hatred.

i had a fun tonight. I went and saw Morrissey play at the NorVa. A friend managed to find me a free ticket and so I met him down on Monticello. I sat outside and waited for him, watching the line kind of dwindle and grow by the minute, but it never became ridiculous or anything. I saw a lot of black hair, a lot of black shirts, a lot of Morrissey shirts. There was also a good amount of middle aged suburban women there, singing thier responsible little hearts out. One girl who was right in front of me was towing the line between endearing and annoying. She was sweaty and dancing so much, and texting people all night. I saw one text she sent, it said, "We need to talk soon, I'm dating an alcoholic," and right about then, Morrissey mentioned Madonna and rolled his eyes shortly after, speaking something about the gullible nature of spectators who are perhaps fooled into thinking Madonna actually cares about the environment. He said, "If the climate were a coat, she'd wear it," and then every one laughed and he went into another song about how nobody loves him, all the while there are 1500 screaming blind children. The show was awesome, I hope my account doesn't seem to scathing. Morrissey has kind of snuck into this arena of iconic musical figures. While most of his lyrics deal with deal with lack of, or longing for love, he has found a way to make it a tad more personal, specific and meaningful, way more honest than most. "I am human and I want to be loved, just like everybody else does." He looks great for how old he is, and his swagger was very indicitive of how he views himself, in some kind of high esteem, propped up by a romanticized misery. It seems like he exists in a juxtaposition of his ego and his contrary self pity. Although, who knows what to believe about anyone when all you have are songs? I am no Morrissey expert, but I do love The Smiths.

Thursday, July 05, 2007


"a hound's tooth coat pockets are bulging
with nebutal bought from some doctor
who also was bought to keep those pockets full
the face was lost but partly recovered
so half asleep and half in a frenzy
one side tries to smile enough for two
pictures remain split at the image
cupboards well-stocked with things to diminish
the pain that comes with clarity and mirrors in well-lit rooms
she checks in at dwindling daylight
a week up front asks not to be bothered
the registry will show her mother's name
locks the door sits on the bed just a minute before
she picks her purse up off the floor
pulling out what she needs
warming her wrists in promising water
somebody's love another one's daughter
readies herself apologizing to the motel maids
double-edged and super blue
vertically letting the life from you
casting a new darkness through the room
angels lay their odds on you
know not quite what they should do
only that they can't quite tear themselves from the view"

i love jets to brazil.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

summerfest summed up.

i wrote this to a friend of mine, and after i read it again this morning, i figure it sums up my night pretty well.

hey ****, tonight i wandered from stage to stage and was ultimately unsatisfied. there were nice rocks layed up against the shore and nice green water with a moon to make it appear romantic. but it really wasnt, it was really just beer and hot dogs and glow sticks and cotton candy. ya know, the gems of summer.
i miss you...i think you think i'm silly, but i take you seriously. you're mind is taller than your body. it kind of drags along behind you soaking up wisdom from the soil. that soil in tallahassee has been there forever, and indians worshipped it. i am sitting in the front lounge of the bus with a hoodie on, pulled up over my head, wondering when i'll finally cave and crawl into my bunk. i watched slaughter play tonight, i held my hands up among the hundreds of middle aged office workers drunk on miller light and memories. it was boring, but memorable.