|
|
Monday, July 24th, 2006
| |
1:40 pm - wee radge bastards
|
Renton is bad, Renton is a liar, Renton is a junkie, Renton is broken, Renton is slime, Renton is wise:
"The pub sign is a new one, but its message is old. The Britannia. Rule Brittania. Ah've never felt British, because ah'm not. It's ugly and artificial. Ah've never really felt Scottish either, though. Scotland the brave, ma arse; Scotland the shitein cunt. We'd throttle the life oot ay each other fir the priviledge ay rimmin some English aristocrat's piles. Ah've never felt a fuckin thing aboot countries, other than total disgust. They should abolish the fuckin lot ay them. Kill every fuckin parasite politician that ever stood up and mouthed lies and fascist platitudes in a suit and a smarmy smile.
|
|
(4 comments | comment on this)
|
| Wednesday, July 12th, 2006
| |
5:09 pm - All my pictures are confused...
|
I've been doing writing as well as a whole hellish load of art....short stories and poems...and wonder of wonders, I'm trying to cut down my usually sickeningly florid style to reach a faux-minimalist flavor(err...not on here of course, friends!!)
Here's a few poems for you to chew on, the rest are behind the LJ cut at the bottom. If you dig 'em, grand- if you dont feel free to say so but be warned that, as per statute 647-B of the Universal Creative Bastard Manual, I'm then entitled to cum on your face...fair trade?
savage cosmopolitan
insane, really,
the things girls can do...
they can
make a sandwich
put on eyeliner
curl up for a nap
be very magnanimous
stare with pure malice
keep their hair dry in the shower
entertain your friends
move thin fingers slowly over a pillow
break a man into a billion and
one glittering, longing pieces
these days girls are capable and so modern
the things they do are like ice water
with lemon, like cotton candy; they....
can sing loudly when driving
smile at the wrong time
pluck the cherry from their drink
intimidate you with their sex
eat their french fries with abandon
be so falsely indignant when teased
lose themselves on swingsets
wordlessly tempt you to brush their
smooth pale neck with your lips
girls these days are on the move and in the groove, stylish!
what they do is sinister and
it drives philosphers mad in Turin at noon when they...
slide warm hands into your jeans
run their lips up the bottom of your cock
recline, legs splayed and mouth half-open
hang one bare foot off the bed and
stare up at you with bitch's eyes murky and deadly
show their cunt wet and shining, waiting
fucking, gasping, choking back a cry
girls in-the-know this season have that london look
they have that look while they
twist
their
knives
( More Queer Sonnets This-a-way!! )
|
|
(4 comments | comment on this)
|
| Monday, June 19th, 2006
| |
7:41 am - ....ask.....
|
For long days and creative nights, every damn one:
Shyness is nice and
Shyness can stop you
From doing all the things in life
You'd like to
Shyness is nice and
Shyness can stop you
From doing all the things in life
You'd like to
So, if there's something you'd like to try
If there's something you'd like to try
Ask me I won't say no, how could I?
Coyness is nice, and
Coyness can stop you
From saying all the things in
Life you'd like to
So, if there's something you'd like to try
If there's something you'd like to try
Ask me I won't say no, how could I?
Spending warm Summer days indoors
Writing frightening verse
To a bucktooth girl in Luxembourg
Ask me, ask me, ask me
Ask me, ask me, ask me
Because if it's not Love
Then it's the bomb, the bomb, the bomb,
the bomb, the bomb, the bomb, the bomb
That will bring us together
Nature is a language - can't you read ?
Nature is a language - can't you read ?
So, ask me, ask me, ask me,
Ask me, ask me, ask me
Because if it's not Love
Then it's the bomb, the bomb, the bomb,
the bomb, the bomb, the bomb, the bomb
That will bring us together
If it's not Love
Then it's the bomb
Then it's the bomb
That will bring us together
So, ask me, ask me, ask me,
Ask me, ask me, ask me
Oh, la...
-The Smiths
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Friday, June 9th, 2006
| |
11:59 am - In my lair.......
|
|
Cars pass five feet from the walls of my room, but they can't get in. Art tools litter the floor. A guest once had a leg amputated from gangrene following a nasty stab with one of my pens( I leave it to the reader to determine which instrument....). Bowls and cups suggest the past presence of Sapporo Ramen and the current presence of cheap French wine, and the chopsticks always wander alone underfoot. Vintage british buttondowns and slimfit Wranglers compete viciously for floorspace. Preliminary analysis of their dispersal pattern: they were hastily cast off by someone in a highly inebriated state, in an obvious rush to place his tongue on someplace warm and wet. Yes, I'll admit there's a large amount of naked flesh to be seen here, but I'm never impolite enough to allow it to be only myself- the beautiful ones land on my bed with an artist's grace that belies the frenzied sweaty fucking that the walls then absorb. The Skatalites and The Upsetters take the stage here in the morning, the Dead Boys tear thru the afternoon, and Byrne and his Talking Heads guide the room fitfully into night. This is no place for dragons....devils and revolutionary hearts however, have free licence to stay as long as they want and do as much damage as they need. Empty shot of jager and a used condom hold court from the bookshelf, watching over Marx and Burroughs and Jean-Paul's lazy eye, no blinds, no time, sheets on the walls plastered with shots from a Tokyo scooter run. Light, diffuse and always warm. This is all to say, my dears: come and visit.
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Thursday, June 1st, 2006
| |
1:18 pm - "We can destroy only as [plural noun]"
|
Creativity. Lately I'm sick with it, I'm Dengue Fever and every thrash of my limbs seems to knock ink onto paper, wring notes out of instruments and bang naked bodies together. A long mongoloid year and a half without my creative juices flowing in any way other than simulated battle at my dojo and the langorous dance of good sex- both admittedly art in the true and fine sense and as valid as any other performance art....But to a pen-slinger like myself, my bell is rung most(and loudest) by the creation of art that lasts, that can come back and bite people in the ass days and years after its original creation, and thus link the creator back always to himself at sweet petit-mort of creation.....
...By these standards I've been rabid now that I've escaped that terrible dry year- every day I'm writing, making music, making budo, making art....My last sketchbook, abandoned mid-thrust back in 2004(!) has clawed its way out of the grave and now gets 2 or 3 pages a day filled- and not only quantity, folks, but stylistically I'm letting myself play and stretch my art in ways that a fews years ago I would have disdained....Whether my new stuff will coalesce into a comic doesn't even interest me at this point; I could be fucking painting murals and canvas, tattoos or shaving designs into poodles- I'm enjoying my art for art and hadn't realized how long it's been since I've done that.
..the conclusion: this creative tingle is so damn good, I'll never stop. I've been lucky to be able to surround myself with creative people again- some in particular have been an enjoyable spur in my side and for that my gratitude overflows messily from my inkwell to theirs, and I hope I can repay them in kind. So I resolve- no more dead leaf types around me, not closely anyway- no non-artistic dolts who strangled their infant imagination in the womb and have carried its decaying corpse around ever since...Those stunted ones are best regarded over the top of a strong gin & tonic and best enjoyed in small doses, because I'll be damned if I'm going to poison my baby by association with their ennui....consumption AND creation, I want the whole circle and the ones that help me keep it round are the ones I should be dining with, no? Let's fucking eat!!
|
|
(6 comments | comment on this)
|
| Sunday, April 30th, 2006
| |
8:42 am - Friedrich Nietzsche and Lou Salome: Intermezzo
|
The last few days I paid my tribute to him, that man, that incomparable one who stands alone and looks far ahead- or only down, as from a height....My day was giving shape to my will, and letting it taste the rest of all occurence: greeting my day with zazen, severe arm breaking aikido, the high-fucking-tension wire of artwork, a bit of time given like drops of sweetness from above for philosophy....but the night: an endless entangling of limbs and tongues to stripped down punk sounds, drowning in vast oceans of booze, plunging dangerously from bar to home and letting neither be called "safe"(...never that...).........Yes, Freddy, all for you....
....then again, I do this shit every week.....
....shades of the "eternal recurrence"?? What say you, my fine fucked-up friend- for I'm still hungover like a little bitch and unable to form the right words myself, my mouth just doesn't have the balls for it...and one's mouth not having any balls is a travesty....From The Gay Science:
The greatest weight.—
What, if some day or night a demon were to steal after you in your loneliest loneliness and say to you: "This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh and everything unutterably small or great in your life will have to return to you, all in the same succession and sequence—even this spider and this moonlight between the trees, and even this moment and I myself. The eternal hourglass of existence is turned upside down again and again—and you with it, speck of dust!"— Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: "You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine!" If this thought gained possession of you, it would change you as you are or perhaps crush you; the question in each and every thing, "Do you desire this once more, and innumerable times more?" would lie upon your actions as the greatest weight! Or how well disposed would you have to become to yourself and to life to crave nothing more fervently than this ultimate eternal confirmation and seal?
...ask it today.
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Monday, April 17th, 2006
| |
1:44 am - Freidrich Nietzsche and Lou Salome Pt. 1- The Springtime Birth of Prince Vogelfrei
|
Friedrich Nietzsche, a man who more than any other embodied the fiery devil in man's heart that the 19th century had sought so manically to excorcise, had once been in love. Anyone who knows Nietzsche superficially from the simplistic tongues of PHIL 101 will be shocked- how could this hard man who savaged the concept of "pity", who looked to the birth of the self-mastered "overman", who held forth on the difference between slave and master morality- how can this sharp, cold "blond beast" feel something as light and a nimble as love?? Like he himself would say, "Above all, do not take mistake for someone else!" - this antichrist had likened true philosophy to dancing, to making art and music, to style and sweetness. He laughed at whose mind's heavy feet couldn't step lightly and with joy. Even his oft-repeated admonition to "philosophize with a hammer" was referring, in fact, to the delicate strike of a sounding hammer, executed with the subtlety of a safecracker and the nimble fingers of a tender lover, to "sound out" the false statues of idols. That's to say, my dear seekers of truth, that he was capable of love and more than love......
Nietzsche was lonely and searching in his season just before meeting Lou Salome, glorying in his best imitation of Schopenhauer which he would later come to laugh at himself. Lou, a precocious russian emigre who had been making herself known as a girl with the intellectual chops to compete with some of Europe's greatest minds, was beautiful and brilliant; to grab an opportunity for education in the 1870's cockcentric culture she had teased and seduced a stodgy Dutch preacher more than twice her age, resulting in his abortive attempt to ditch his (probably insufferable) shrew and marry Lou. Of course, when Nietzsche first met her in 1882 through their mutual friend, nebbishy philospher-wannabe Paul Ree, he was instantly taken with the 20-year old Lou. A tender rosebud version of his own philosphy, wrapped in a highnecked Victorian dress and bearing dark eyes that by all accounts promised deep discusions while lying langorously in bed after an afternoon of frenzied sex- something that for Nietzsche, standing against the bullshit veneer of his age in matters of both mind and body, could not help but become hopelessly drawn to. Nietzsche's eyesight was so poor his doctors had advised him to drop writng altogether, his small apartments were bristling with bottles of medicines for his blinding migraines and painful stomachaches, he was forced to suck down laudanum and opium to overcome his constant insomnia- and now a new source of pain and addiction he would heap onto his plate, happily. The young Lou would leave Nietzsche smitten in heart and mind, panting like the great Lion he praises in his works and encourage him to surpass the Lion, great as it is and yet still infected with the Will to Power, toward his real ideal, the true personifcation of enlightened "love of fate": the laughing , pure child. When Nietzsche first met Lou in the brilliant sun-dappled interior of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, he could only wonder aloud "From what stars have we two fallen to meet here?"
That spring and summer a strange triangle developed between Nietzsche, Ree and Lou; two males held in happy bondage by that slender sculpture fashioned of sensual and intellectual lodestone. They began to make plans to winter together in an "academic commune" in Paris, sharing quarters and hopefully stimulating each others' collective thoughts(among other things...)...Of course my bisexual heart and dick would like to think that there were some rather festive three-way oral sessions also planned for that winter, or at least a deeply contemplative DP of the youngest member of the trio, all in the most shockingly non-academic sense of the terms. Our small troupe of dangerous young minds spent the next few months frolicking across Europe, meeting intermittently and planning their daring winter. At Orta in the cool spring of northern Italy Nietzsche and Lou went on an "hour long hike" alone that turned into an all day absence, leaving Lou's mother understandably dismayed- her daughter's virgin mind and (perhaps not so...)virginal body spirited away by a madman with a passion for the destruction of morality. Nietzsche, who had long been looking for an intellectual heir for his fevered and prophetic ideas, was shocked and elated to find out just how sharp and hungry Lou was- he had thoughts of her as disciple, as heir, as collaborator, and of course as lover. In Lucerne, Switzerland in May Nietzsche arranged a photo of the three to be taken, with Ree and himself as carthorses drawing forth the young Salome's magnificence, as she whips them from behind with a flower studded lash. A sadomasochistic orgy fantasy of flesh and mind, with noble aims and unknown promise took shape in the crisp Swiss air......
Nietzsche, inspired and running on dope tincture and lust, completed the introduction to his most incredible work, The Gay Science, and would soon write to Lou that "...the mocking birds are singing all night long at my window. In everything, Rée is a better friend than I am and could be: please observes this difference carefully! – When I am entirely alone, I very often say your name out loud – to my greatest delight!"..clouds of soft white were gathering between the antichrist and the one woman he proclaimed was as "sharp as an eagle and as brave as a lion"- but of what portent??.......
.......stay tuned for part two, and see our mustached rebel hero use his alchemy of will to turn the sting of fate's bitch-slap into something that truly matters!!
|
|
(10 comments | comment on this)
|
| Friday, March 31st, 2006
| |
4:42 pm - -organum-
|
From Exterminator!:
"There is something wrong with the whole concept of money. It takes always more and more to buy less and less. Money is like junk, a dose that fixes on Monday won't fix on Friday."
I'm not generally attracted to the name "William", but if I ran into Brion Gysin and Burroughs back in a room at the Git-de-Coer in '58, I'd probably have to fuck them both.
|
|
(7 comments | comment on this)
|
| Thursday, March 2nd, 2006
| |
3:57 pm - "You must drink alot of milk!"
|
...I'd been meaning for a while now to write an entry about my newfound love for that ubiquitous visual hypnosis known as "watching movies", seeing as how for years I thought film was shit and my friends would have to drug and bind me like a rare African beast just to get my ass to stay still for any movie...I just couldn't deal with "throwing away" the time, baha....But some dimly remembered Romero-induced memories from my childhood changed all that last fall when I got back into horror flicks in a big way, at least enough to actually drop some dough on a movie or two.....Regardless, this isn't that post.....
...However, last night I DID watch "The Take", a little ditty from two Canadian documentarians about the worker-run coop movement that sprung up in Argentina since the country's neoliberal implosion back in 2001...My anarcho-commy heart was always attracted to accounts of the Argentinazo, that hot and chaotic period when the citizens went balls-out and forced the pathetic politicians to flee the capital by helicopter, but I hadn't really followed any of the events that had been happening in the wake of those heady days- that's to say, the actual nitty-gritty involved in the aftermath of the initial rupture(...perhaps I shouldn't say "rupture" when things have since been so sadly recuperated over there....Fuck, enough to make me give up and spend my days writing post-modern drivel without hope of any universal change for any of us....).....The movie tracks a few of the factories that had been occupied by their workers once the owners bailed, and had been run(for the most part...) in a democratic worker-council arrangement....Despite the short-sighted syndicalist assumption of worker-control in a market economy as anything other than a door to internalizing and presiding over our own exploitation, I couldn't help but be inspired and cheered.....
..
...That's to say, I had a raging hard-on when the cooperative retaken factories were arranging with each other to supply raw materials together; the smallest glimmer of a truly participatory system that could abolish the whole illusionary mindfuck of "markets" and "prices" altogether?? As for myself, I don't think these small wind-borne seeds of communist society can come together in any widespread way while we still have the crushing weight of the capitalist system grinding away daily over our heads- no, this is the poison of reformism that smothers revolutionary hopes in a gradual manner, a sneaking death that comes like an overdose of sleeping pills after we've reconsidered our suicide....There has to be a true break, a definitive rupture in the smooth machinery that binds us- but all the same, the spirit of something new must be in place at least somewhere, a flame kept alive for the right time to catch......In that sense I think these worker-control examples are valuable and must survive in spirit, name and concept even while recognizing their inherent limitations when they try to operate within this shitful system......
...All that and the young, anarchist(?) troublemaker who had been newly hired at the Zanon ceramics co-op was deliciously cute in a rarely-seen androgenous sort of way.....What, my humanity shouldn't intrude upon my ideals for a higher state?? My poor dear, my humanity IS my ideal for a higher state- now let's get undressed......
|
|
(4 comments | comment on this)
|
| Friday, February 10th, 2006
| |
11:56 am - TANREN
|
...So I've finally gotten around to reading some Jose Ortega y Gassett, "The Revolt of the Masses" specifically....I was hoping for some more of his proto-existentialist "life as radical freedom in given conditions" philosophy, but most of this book would make a good bridge between Nietzsche's railings against the "last man" and The Frankfurt School's critiques of the culture industry.....All that babble is to say- damn good shit overall!!
...I move today, just a bit north and to an apartment which hopefully isn't a rathole dive- but who gives a fuck about THAT, when I've decided to finally buy a suburito(extra-heavy version of a japanese wooden sword used for martial arts training and body conditioning to gain some high-level physical skillz, yo...)
This is the model I might go with:
"100% Selected Japanese Red Oak, available in 3.8 shaku(115.2 cm) only. This is not just a heavy Suburi bokken, but a super heavy one. This Suburi bokken is the ultimate challenging to you."
|
|
(10 comments | comment on this)
|
| Monday, January 30th, 2006
| |
1:32 am - "I'm a coupon!"
|
The tightwad bitch holding me up at the register doesn't know I had just gotten mauled by my cat, the bloodthirsty pussy doesn't know I had just been subjected to an hour of drug-addled ranting, the ranter doesn't know I had just spent 13 hours wasting my creative powers under a fucking timeclock, my supervisor on the clock doesn't know I had almost been crushed into metallic chum on the highway on the way to work..............and allllllllllll these motherfuckers don't know that they can't touch me, they think they're close but they're miles off and slow, slow, slow.
...yeah, even the cat.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Wednesday, January 18th, 2006
| |
3:45 am - Skinhead as Educator
|
I can only access a few websites from work- one of which is sweet, sweet Wikipedia, of course...When trawling through their blurb on Hegel I stumbled across this little slice of tongue-lashing written by our dear Euro-Buddhist himself, Arthur Schopenhauer, when describing Hegel's...errrmm...."overdeveloped" writing style:
"The height of audacity in serving up pure nonsense, in stringing together senseless and extravagant mazes of words, such as had been only previously known in madhouses, was finally reached in Hegel, and became the instrument of the most barefaced, general mystification that has ever taken place, with a result which will appear fabulous to posterity, as a monument to German stupidity."
...which gave me a good chuckle in the otherwise solemn whipcrack wasteland known as my cubicle...I've always thought that Schopenhauer looks like a brilliant late 90's Capcom character design, maybe a grandfather from Rival Schools???:
Much to ol' Schop's chagrin, I've decided to start grad courses....Putting up with the ego-swollen fuckfaces and musty academic pussies will be a chore, but to be quite honest I don't have the spirit (dare we say, discipline??) to fashion my mind into a demon-slaying blade on my own....I wish to christ I did, but it just seems that fucking, drinking cheap wine, and sweaty Japanese fighting arts won't release their hold on my addicted little brain..........so, I've decided on Sartrean S&M; giving up my subjectivity to taste my objective existence to gain....what????
|
|
(7 comments | comment on this)
|
| Saturday, January 7th, 2006
| |
1:06 am - One-Cocked Bandit
|
...So looks like I might be finally getting my payout- coupla grand from shithole insurance so that I can finally re-buy a car. 'Course, most of all I'd like to be back in a place where I don't even need one- I liked the way living off public transportation back in Kansai kicked my ass outside to walk in the fall wind and forced me to feel alive - even on days that I wanted to hibernate in the best American-auto-cocooning fatass tradition.......regardless, the wheels'll mean I'll be able to get to the dojo more and mayyyyybe be back out to share some fine alcoholic refreshments with the assorted scumfucks down here in Lauderdale...a twisted but charming bit of community that I rarely have a chance to see anymore. "Maybe", since I don't seem to be robbing the dead(err, I mean accumulating meaningless capitalist green paper...) efficiently enough to provide me with booze money lately........
....Sunday, Mykel Board of MRR fame is doing a reading at Maguire's...I'm gonna be trying every dirty trick in the book to get outta work early and go and see him- I've dug his columns since way back in my Japan days, in fact back then when I couldn't give two shits about punk (I was in my first Jamaican-music nazi phase back then, unfortunately....) his writing was one of the main reasons I started buying Maxumum Rock n' Roll at all....I could, of course, start about Lefty Hooligan's "What's Left" columns- but I don't think I could do the old man justice, hehheh......
|
|
(4 comments | comment on this)
|
| Friday, December 30th, 2005
| |
1:22 pm - Tyger Tyger
|
In a shocking upset, it was revealed that my longtime favorite animal, the tiger, would by most reasoning LOSE to a lion in a fight. Apparently the tiger, supremely adapted to lone hunting, is an apprehensive fighter- the slightest injury could cause him to be unable to hunt effectivly and thus to starve. What's more, the tiger would most likely attack with a bite to the throat, the best method for asphyxiating natural tiger prey like giddy leaping deer and lost-in-the-woods human....However, the lion's mane has evolved precisely to PROTECT that very area(...as well as disguise his embarrassing pencil neck, haha you scrawny fuck!), so our sleek tiggy friend would likely end up only with a mouthful of fur. Finally, the lion, while a shitty hunter(and a sexist pig!), spends most of his non-sleeping time fending off challenges by other male lions, and is well versed in the dirty tactic of attacking the rear of the opponent front leg rather than going for the throat.....In the end analysis, the Don King of the animal world reigns supreme.
Of course both can be crushed in short order by a full-size grizzly....which, however, can't even manage to properly clean their own furry asses....
http://www.lairweb.org.nz/tiger/conflict.html
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Friday, December 23rd, 2005
| |
12:35 pm - "Cured for over two years in a variety of spices"
|
Everyone should be putrid green with envy over the great feast I had last night. Thank big baby Jeebus I live with Tobs- not only are we in perfect accord when it comes to essential stuff like lighting backyard mulch ablaze to combat boredom, but we're downright gastronomic fucking geniuses. Wisely, we waited till we were half-crazed with starvation to head to Publix, ensuring that we would buy a range of useless one-shot delicacies, spending way too much money and running out of food by mid-week......
.....But then we arrived home, and the heart stopping laser show began(laser in this case referring to cured meats, apparently)....I wandered from room to room gorging myself on authentic New York pizza, sauteed shiitake and enoki mushrooms, cactus pears, crisp fresh cucumber for my inner Kappa, and Carr's Table Water Cracker with Cracked Pepper(which happen to have gotten a special appointment from the King himself, damn right!!)..I began to jump and pogo, pumping my fist as if I were at a Oi! show......The highlight was a one-two knockout combo of french beaujolais and a two-year cured dry salami, which basically blasted my taste buds clear outta my skull, spraying a crimson fan of bloody tongue and brain all over my living room wall....The food had me grabbing my cock and fanning myself, it was a fucking madman in every respect and for that, oh gods of grain and bounty, I thank ya....The evening wound down in the only way it appropriate- vodka while watching Muppets From Space...
..Maybe the Japanese were right to honor their gods with rough and authentic foods, maybe even more right than those that would honor them with the performances of the temple prostitutes....Then again, if I were a Ba'al or a Marduk I would probably glut myself on food and fucking at the same time- what the hell, I'm a goddam desert god and there ain't much else around but sand...
Of course now that I'm broke it's back to canned tuna and ramen 24/7....
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Friday, December 2nd, 2005
| |
10:28 pm - Cannibal Holocaust!
|
Capitalism has fucked us all so brutally, and for so long, that we're too sore to even know where it hurts anymore. How is one to say what in our "characters" is merely a sad pattern burned into us by this sick society, a savage leftover from our reptile brains, or our own hard-won creation??
It's hard to make art when you're blind, deaf and hogtied.
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Sunday, November 20th, 2005
| |
2:20 am - --flashlights VS night-vision, round 2--
|
Wellllll, finally got my power back last week and now the wonders of the internet...In hindsight, I could just replace my previous post with something more succinct, like maybe "FUCK YOU HURRICANE WILMA YOU FLAILING DRUNKEN BITCH!!"
Caught a show tonight detailing the acid-soaked gender-twisting antics of the Cockettes circa the late 60's...aside from the hideous hippy stylings(sorry, my tonic three-button soul had to say it...) I was amazed at the amount of genuinely clued-up commie thinking floating around even within a commune held together mainly by hallucinogenics........There's rough diamonds all around those pages of history- if only we could pluck them out and gather 'em together, no?? We can make a gem-encrusted baseball bat give capitalism it's useless "wealth" back to it, in fucking spades....
...but kudos to their pan-sexuality, fuck on!!
|
|
(4 comments | comment on this)
|
| Monday, October 24th, 2005
| |
4:02 am - Marcus James of Argentina
|
I've just walked back inside, reluctantly, after spending my 3am hour sitting in a lawn chair in my driveway, with a good red wine in hand and the glowing pink clouds of Hurricane Wilma over my head. The lights of Fort Lauderdale turned the spiraling cloud canopy into a vast pulsating ceiling- since I was young there are no nights I like better than those where the warm sky spreads itself out above me not black and icy and alien but bright, like a the vaulted top of a massive dome that through its very closeness makes you realize how huge the skies really are....a cold infinity of twinkling stars can't bring out that depth, they lose themselves in exaggeration and no one believes their bullshit tales.....
..But this night; the enveloping clouds salmon soft, air that buffets you at the balmy temperature of a new lover minutes after she has shed her clothes- for a moment I caught myself thinking "What is a human, compared to this??"...I saved myself, of course....For all the twistings of modernity imposed on our more primal natures, we can't return home to a masochistic groveling where we wonder in awe at how "nature"(this protean, Janus-faced composite that, yes, we so often mutilate by removing our own selves from our conception of it...) can fuck man oh-soo-good....Let the primitivists have their myopia and their false histories.....Don't forget that there are storms on Jupiter too, pouring their majestic, overwhelming, and finally wasted might out upon a methane landscape that just doesn't give a shit.....that is to say, this storm means nothing without mankind- but with my chair and my booze and my blessing, it means everything......
The ancients used to purify with water and with fire, but first of all and closest to our hearts- with wind.....
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Saturday, September 17th, 2005
| |
4:11 am - "Doa ga shimarimasu, go-chuui kudasai..."
|
In a wee update for my last post, a few days later while watching Futurama there was a scene
where Bender ended up underground, examining a pile of the trash people up above flush down their toilets. What's the metallic bastard come out with but 'aww, it's nothing but crummy porno and Ayn Rand." while holding up a copy of Atlas Shrugged or some similar pice of shit....see, even the robots agree!!
...Life is tough without a car in a land where public transportation is intentionally hamstrung- can't get outta the house, can't change jobs, can't run over suburbanite joggers....I long tremblingly for the Keihan train line, shimmering in a pale green hue as it bustles happily from Osaka to Kyoto and back again, banishing bad automobile dreams with a never-ending infusion of open-air station platforms and schoolgirl uniforms in cool autumn breezes. Natsukashisa tte, kore ya na??
|
|
(7 comments | comment on this)
|
| Wednesday, September 7th, 2005
| |
2:26 am - Ya Fackin' Kant!!
|
Yes indeedy, it's that time of year again- when in addition to my steady diet of tanned n' twinkling TV evangelists on TBN I further irritate and amuse myself by reading selections from that sexy Russian ice-babe, Ayn Rand.....A few years back, after my brother had enjoyed the (admittedly excellent) "Atheism: The Case Against God" by Rand toe-licker George Smith, he had picked up a nice juicy collection of Rand essays. After a chapter or two, holding back a mouthful of puke, he buried it in our hamper under some dirty underwear- even at 15, the kid could already smell the corporate whore mentality that Rand made famous. I, of course, was delighted, since reading reactionary attempts at self-mystification gets me hard even quicker than a roomful of sexually curious Christian home-schoolers and some lube, and so the other day I happened to locate this charming little book and have been enjoying Orphan Aynie's characteristic blend of embittered expat bullshit ever since......
....My favorite quote: "Businessman are a cheerful, benevolent, optimistic, predominantly American phenomenon. The essence of their job is the constant struggle to improve human life, to satisfy human needs and desires..."....yes folks, feel free to laugh 'till you shit yourself!!!
|
|
(6 comments | comment on this)
|
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
yamazaru's journal