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Nothing Says Fun Like a Riot Minus the Context

Nov. 20th, 2010 | 01:15 am
location: house
mood: exhaustedexhausted
music: Las Vegas Grind Vol. One

Nothing Says Fun Like a Riot Minus the Context

I found myself in Seattle in 1999, I was unsure
Exactly why I was there but there I was.

After being sprayed down by the police, I grabbed
The nearest brick and hurled it through the window
Of an anarchist bookstore, with a note attached
Saying “Why not?”, because nothing irks an
Anarchist more than taking their ideals to the
Logical extreme.

Stumbling down the block, after drinking away
My apathy like a responsible adult, I met a girl
Who was quite impressed with my leftist politics.
She told me her name was Maria, so I raised my
Fist in the air and shouted “Viva Maria! Viva la
Revolution! Long live my relevancy!” and then,
For no real reason at all but with every intent
And purpose, we got into my car and drove over
Every single mailbox we came across.

It was a typical Sunday morning for me, but this one
Was special. I saw Jean-Paul Marat, wielding a
Zip-gun. He said, “I’m still here, I’m always still
Here.” I asked him why, he said it wasn’t important.
We burned the city right down to its structure less
Plot of land. We all returned home, drunk off
Merriment and forgotten ideals. Maria looked
At me, said, “We won.”
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Past / Future: A Comedic Novel For This Day and Age

Oct. 23rd, 2010 | 01:01 pm
mood: tiredtired
music: Debussy

Past / Future: A Comedic Novel For This Day and Age

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Tributes to Bobby Fuller and Jack Johnson

Feb. 26th, 2010 | 07:41 pm
mood: contemplativecontemplative

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I Live In a House

Jan. 25th, 2010 | 04:26 pm
mood: tiredtired
music: Nathaniel Mayer

I Live In a House

I live in a house. It is a white house
with a red door, two trees located on each
side, and grass which does not grow
above one inch. There is a phone line
going outwards from the top, and windows
on every side.

When I walk down the street, I see
a perfectly planned community. The
house located next to me is green
with a white door, two trees located on one
side and three on the other, and grass which
has not grown one inch above the ground. There is a phone line
going outwards from the top, a satellite dish on the roof, and windows
on every side. The shades to the windows in front
are closed, the ones in the back are open. The
house located next to the green house is
a light blue house with a red door, with three trees located on each
side, and grass which has not grown one inch above the ground. There is a phone line
going outwards from the top, a satellite dish on the roof, a driveway stretching for twenty feet, and windows
on every side. The shades to the windows in front
are open, the ones in the back are open.
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What If? then ...

Dec. 3rd, 2009 | 09:06 pm

What If? then ...

What if
I hadn’t been born
with the condition
What if
I hadn’t done everything
I did to excess
What if I hadn’t heard
wild nights
of my drunken dad drinking my alcoholic mom
What if I had learned
my lesson from a box
transmitting from transmitted images
What if I had
sat in my seat
waiting
for the answers,
not panicking under the table
What if the conveyor belt was
operated correctly
and the cards dealt right

Maybe then
I could prepare myself
for an exciting life
of filing the reports
Maybe then
I could save up slips
of paper for the Christmas
tree, settle down
Maybe then
I could win
poetry slams.
There would be a blank slate
placed in front of me
and I could tell them how
to think and how
to act, and gain
in return, a smile
and a clear conscious
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Bad Music For Bad People Playlist 11/12/2009

Nov. 12th, 2009 | 08:50 pm
location: Worcester
mood: tiredtired
music: The Dirtys - You Should Be Sinnin' LP

Bad Music For Bad People 11/12/09

John Barry - Beat Girl Theme
Them - I Can Only Give You Everything
Brigitte Bardot - L'appareil a sous
The A-Bones - She Cried For Me
Tom Waits - I Don't Wanna Grow Up
The Dirtbombs - Your Love Belongs Under a Rock

The Flamin' Groovies - Second Cousin
Nation Rockin' Shadows - Anasthesia
Afterglow - Suzie's Gone
The Calico Wall - I'm a Living Sickness
DC5 - Chaquita
Flat Duo Jets - Mexicali Baby

Elvis Presley - Suspicious Minds
The Monks - Complication
Tav Falco and His Unapproachable Panther Burns - The Young Psychotics
Charlie Gracie - Guitar Boogie
Rudy Thacker and the Stringbusters - Black Train

Randy Alvey - Green Fuzz
Musical Linn Twins - Rockin' Out the Blues
The Ronettes - Why Won't They Let Us Fall In Love?
The Dirtys - Drink, Fight
The El-Dorados - At My Front Door

The Apemen - Intoxica
Captain Beefheart - Sure 'Nuff Yes I Do
Sun Ra - The Sun Man Speaks
Black Lips - I've Got a Knife
The Sonics - Marlene

The Saints - This Perfect Day
The Damned - Melody Lee
Bobby Fuller - Angel Face
The Cynics - Girl, You're On My Mind
The Sonics - Psycho
The Ramones - Suzy Is a Headbanger
Nathaniel Mayer - I Don't Want No Bald Headed Woman

Charlie Feathers - Tongue-Tied Jill
The Rivieras - Surfin' Fun
The Moonlighters - Guitar Rock
King Khan and BBQ Show - Waddlin' Around
Zodiac Killers - Get Away

Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers - One Track Mind
Little Killers - Jenna Lee
The Cadets - Stranded In the Jungle
The Thunderbolts - Lost Planet

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In the Company of Kings

Oct. 26th, 2009 | 01:19 pm
location: Worcester
mood: complacentcomplacent
music: Serge Gainsbourg - "Comic Strip" comp LP

In the Company of Kings

And I think of Arthur Rimbaud, or
some other equally explicit namedrop,
brooding over pages of forgotten
lore to be improved, muttering to himself
“Shit” out of the corner of his mouth
unoccupied.

I approached the cavern, this den
of inequity, a man
stood upon the stage shouting
slogans for the predisposed
capturing the minds of those
willing to be captured. He
resembled Dillinger with a gun
sticking out of the holster.

The mob raised itself into a furor,
pleasing themselves with concepts of
revolutionary thought, the same
that caused their parents to grow old.

I divorced the crowd and placed myself
at the bar. I am the one, I am always
the one who’ll willingly sacrifice
at chess, and at cunt, and at alliteration.
I am the one who took
offense, I am the one who sought
solace for taking
offense when none was intended.
I am the one who sought
repartition for taking
offense when offense was conveyed.

Sitting on my stool, I stuck my hand
down my throat, and after a minute or two
of struggle, pulled my heart up through. I
placed it on the table and patted it down a bit
in attempt to relieve the tension I assume
comes naturally with the removal of vital organs.
I said, “Please excuse me. I do not understand you,
but I am willing to make the effort.”
The mob died down, and I was the one
to remain.
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The First Time I Saw Paris

Oct. 15th, 2009 | 08:33 pm
location: Worcester
mood: sicksick
music: Korla Pandit

The First Time I Saw Paris

And I knew this would bring on
a whole lot of Catholic
guilt
provided I were Catholic
as I felt the elastic
tightening.

Throughout the whole time
I was wishing that I
was crazy instead of just plain
neurotic, but somehow
my hand was taken and
I was guided through.

A week earlier, I had driven
the way home, in tears, listening
to the songs on the radio.
That night, I had been overtaken
by a feeling of ecstasy, and I ran
over a series of mailboxes and last names.

Throughout the whole time, I realized I
forgot to ask you how you
felt about the whole matter.

I’m making a big statement
but I’ll be damned
if I ever know what it is.
The first time I saw Paris.
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I Tried to Escape It But It Caught Up

Oct. 3rd, 2009 | 09:06 pm
location: Worcester
mood: confusedconfused
music: Debussy

I Tried to Escape It But It Caught Up

There are times when I wish it was either ten minutes earlier
or ten years later.
There are times when I want to
reap the benefits of
afterthought.

I tried to escape it but
it caught up.

There are times when I
gain faith
only to lose it again.
In the morning,
at four, when my heart
is pounding twice as fast, I
realize it caught up, and there's
no point in trying to escape it
anymore.

And in the wee small hours,
when explanations run like
stampedes of white elephants, I accept it's arrival,
like the glimmer of hope shining
brightly at the end.

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An Account of My Humble Beginnings

Sep. 28th, 2009 | 11:34 pm
location: Worcester
mood: goodgood
music: France Gall

An Account of My Humble Beginnings

One day, a UFO came
and blew this world to bits, which explains
the logic on which we operate. Into this world,
I was born.

My Mother told me that
the day I was born consisted of
a stork flying over men
removing waste in yellow decontamination suits,
setting up barricades to block one from
venturing between alleyways.

She related that a man appeared
on the television, with congratulatory remarks
and an insistence on how wonderful
it was to be alive, while she placed a rag over
my mouth to avoid the toxics. We bought into
every moment of this man we paid for.

My Father worked in a factory, placing punch cards into
a machine which did the job for him. Every evening,
promptly at quarter of six, he returned with his
meager earnings for our meager abode. Seeing the man
on the television, he glanced skeptical eyes
towards me, avoiding contact with my mother. By now,
the fumes and the waste had gotten to her.

Every Sunday morning, my Father and I
would visit a decaying building to worship an atomic bomb.
On the way home, my Father would explain to me
the significance of the bomb, how without it,
we would be without life itself.

Both my Mother and my Father constantly warned me of
certain words which could be detrimental. At night,
I ventured into my room alone
with a jar containing the words, carefully protected by
a lid which I had received from my parents. I opened
the safe hold, and let them all out into the night.

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