i got drunk at lunch, and I'm now filled with the self righteous fire that only a drunk can feel. and so, if I'm right, and most of this is read postmortem, then please let them publish this:
in this the age of face book and global warming, of change and familiarity, there lived a man who didn't give a fuck. who drove a forty year old Cadillac, drowning polar bears and doing illegal drugs.
who loved like there was no tommorow, and dreamed like there was no today.
he drank and smoked things that would kill him, and tried to love women who would not remember his name, grinning sarcastically the whole time, all because he could not think of a better way to spend his time.
he spoke in rhyme and wrote in haste, because to him time always seemed shorter than he thought. and at the end of the day, he probably wouldn't have had it any other way. so hes got that going for him too. it is tomorrow that makes today special.
so yeah.
hes a fool in love, an emcee for free, and a writer in hopes of making some of it make sense. and if anyone has a problem with that ill step on your fucking neck. that's my word.
8.31.2009
paradise lost
the weekend is dead.
long live the weekend.
maybe the purpose of the personal blog is simply to provide some explanation for the world when i go all supernova some day, burning up all my surrounding planets with fires fueled by angst and frustration, propelled by confusion. for surely, i cannot hope to walk this line of spirit and flesh forever, can i? when matter and antimatter finally collide, they can all Google me, read this and say,"you see? he'd been driving himself crazy the whole time...." maybe they'll be write. maybe no ones driving at all
why write things you wouldn't say? say things you cant do? it is the very definition of insanity to spill ones heart to a soulless web page and not be able to communicate with your fellow human beings. but my fingers have minds of their own, and not half the safeguards my throat does; so i fire off observations and revelations without regards to passer-bys who may be caught in the crossfire. please don't think me unkind.
i write of love and live in anguish. think as spirit and live in flesh. my tombstone should just say WTF? but at least im not wearing a body hair sweater like the guy who just left my store. and I'm in the new impulss video; so i got that going for me.
in case you couldn't tell by my previous post, this weekend i was visited by the ghost of love past, present, and future. you see? i want to puke all over the keyboard just for typing something like that lame. but its true. so I'm going to lunch to drown my sorrows in blue moon. so i got that going for me too. ill let you know how that works out.....
long live the weekend.
maybe the purpose of the personal blog is simply to provide some explanation for the world when i go all supernova some day, burning up all my surrounding planets with fires fueled by angst and frustration, propelled by confusion. for surely, i cannot hope to walk this line of spirit and flesh forever, can i? when matter and antimatter finally collide, they can all Google me, read this and say,"you see? he'd been driving himself crazy the whole time...." maybe they'll be write. maybe no ones driving at all
why write things you wouldn't say? say things you cant do? it is the very definition of insanity to spill ones heart to a soulless web page and not be able to communicate with your fellow human beings. but my fingers have minds of their own, and not half the safeguards my throat does; so i fire off observations and revelations without regards to passer-bys who may be caught in the crossfire. please don't think me unkind.
i write of love and live in anguish. think as spirit and live in flesh. my tombstone should just say WTF? but at least im not wearing a body hair sweater like the guy who just left my store. and I'm in the new impulss video; so i got that going for me.
"Do it!" by Impulss from From PartsUnknown Films on Vimeo.
in case you couldn't tell by my previous post, this weekend i was visited by the ghost of love past, present, and future. you see? i want to puke all over the keyboard just for typing something like that lame. but its true. so I'm going to lunch to drown my sorrows in blue moon. so i got that going for me too. ill let you know how that works out.....
Satcmo is smiling at me. Welcome to new orleans. Welcome to heartache. Only I never really left. Seems cruel.
She's gone again, and these goodbyes are killing me. This time it was otis all the way there. These arms of mine, been loving you too long. That sir is a fact. Now I sit on the back of my white horse cadillac, dripping with emotion. It was like a weekend long trip, literally and metaphysically. Walks in the rain and duke ellington, coltrane and shared slumber.
Each time she returns she a little more real to me. The girl of my reoccuring dreams it seems. But as I said before, these goodbyes are killing me. I've gone and advised her to go to cuba, because I could not have done anything else and not been self serving. It broke my heart to say go, but how can you deny loves fufullment and still call it love? And so....
The sky cried a little on the way back; and I did too. Cheesy but true.
Later, the sky cried buckets.
I tried walking in the rain by myself, knowing that it was already too late, hoping each drop would be like a warm kiss from her. But I was wrong and the rain felt cold. Summers gone on a plane back to cali, and all that's left is fall. Which, as many things, is still beatiful from afar.
8.24.2009
another day in paradise...
the weekend is dead.
long live the weekend.
its a mild mannered Monday morning, and once again I'm entrenched behind enemy lines, a.k.a slidell la. in case your just tuning in to our fine program you've missed out on....well, not a whole lot. in fact, I'm still debating the merit of a personal blog all together. maybe its just to clear your head, get shit off your chest, or some other cliche. personally i just like to write, i think, and i really love to rant. in fact, here's a list of things pissing me off at the moment:
1) mainstream radio. why does fabulos (or however he misspells his name) still have a career? I'm not hating, but the only thing "throw it in the bag" makes me want to throw in a bag is my breakfast.
2) people calling my store to ask if i have mojo. yes i have mojo.
3) when you buy mojo, please let me ring everything up at once. don't let me ring up the mojo, then say "oh, let me get a grape dutch master...", especially if your paying with a credit card. your wearing my fucking fingers out. if i can take the time to ask, "is that all you need?", please take the time to stop and think about the question before you answer.
4) while on a mojo tangent, why the fuck are y'all still buying one gram cans? your paying an extra seven dollars a gram before tax. by the time you buy two one grams you've practically paid for a three. are you thinking about that? fuck. i stopped buying nickel bags as soon as i figured out how many grams came in an ounce. stop throwing your money away. its like going to subway and getting a six inch sub for $4.69 when you could have the foot long for $5.00; only mojo keeps for a few days where a tuna sandwich dont. but id still rather buy the foot long and feed the second half to a homeless person than let subway fuck me over. I'm just saying.
p.s. if you dont know what mojo is, get on your knees and thank god now, then dont worry about it. many people think its the best thing since sliced bread, but that's all about your perspective. i mean, winning the special Olympics is probably an awesome feeling, but i bet any gold medalist would happily trade said gold for not being born handicapped in the first place. im just saying.
5) Obama. my blackness prevents me from elaborating any further.
6) soulja boy.
more to come....
long live the weekend.
its a mild mannered Monday morning, and once again I'm entrenched behind enemy lines, a.k.a slidell la. in case your just tuning in to our fine program you've missed out on....well, not a whole lot. in fact, I'm still debating the merit of a personal blog all together. maybe its just to clear your head, get shit off your chest, or some other cliche. personally i just like to write, i think, and i really love to rant. in fact, here's a list of things pissing me off at the moment:
1) mainstream radio. why does fabulos (or however he misspells his name) still have a career? I'm not hating, but the only thing "throw it in the bag" makes me want to throw in a bag is my breakfast.
2) people calling my store to ask if i have mojo. yes i have mojo.
3) when you buy mojo, please let me ring everything up at once. don't let me ring up the mojo, then say "oh, let me get a grape dutch master...", especially if your paying with a credit card. your wearing my fucking fingers out. if i can take the time to ask, "is that all you need?", please take the time to stop and think about the question before you answer.
4) while on a mojo tangent, why the fuck are y'all still buying one gram cans? your paying an extra seven dollars a gram before tax. by the time you buy two one grams you've practically paid for a three. are you thinking about that? fuck. i stopped buying nickel bags as soon as i figured out how many grams came in an ounce. stop throwing your money away. its like going to subway and getting a six inch sub for $4.69 when you could have the foot long for $5.00; only mojo keeps for a few days where a tuna sandwich dont. but id still rather buy the foot long and feed the second half to a homeless person than let subway fuck me over. I'm just saying.
p.s. if you dont know what mojo is, get on your knees and thank god now, then dont worry about it. many people think its the best thing since sliced bread, but that's all about your perspective. i mean, winning the special Olympics is probably an awesome feeling, but i bet any gold medalist would happily trade said gold for not being born handicapped in the first place. im just saying.
5) Obama. my blackness prevents me from elaborating any further.
6) soulja boy.
more to come....
8.22.2009
So far I'm experiencing only mild visual effects, but I'm in a pretty good mood. Just smoked a blunt too
My fear is that I am so trapped by my perceived version of reality that I simply won't allow myself to see anything I cannot rationally explain. This is bleak prospect, for if there is truly naught to reality save the observable world, then really....WTF?
Of course I know there must be, if only because nothing else makes sense. But it could also be that I'm asking the wrong question and applying logic to a fallacy. Am I questioning the political affiliations of a tuna sandwich?
My fear is that I am so trapped by my perceived version of reality that I simply won't allow myself to see anything I cannot rationally explain. This is bleak prospect, for if there is truly naught to reality save the observable world, then really....WTF?
Of course I know there must be, if only because nothing else makes sense. But it could also be that I'm asking the wrong question and applying logic to a fallacy. Am I questioning the political affiliations of a tuna sandwich?
8.21.2009
DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
Legal disclaimer: the following is a work of fiction.
Friday night, just got paid; just took some synthetic liquid mescaline.
I'm usually pretty square when it comes to drugs. Up until about a month ago I'd never done anything but weed for 15 yrs. how quickly things can change.
I'm not sure what's gonna happen or when or if at all. Its been about two hits with an hour in between. Guess I'm gonna find out soon enough. Last time I did shrooms I saw nothing. Literally. A little piece of nothing. Profound to say the least. This trip though, I do hope to see something. Ill check back in with yall in an hour or so and let you know. Should I be reborn in twelve hours, and this be the last will and testament of this version of me, I'd like to leave my fashion sense to my buddy tom, my cadillac to the smithsonian, and my beats to my brother; all in hopes they should one day outgrow them.
8.20.2009
in bed trying to fall asleep, I ask that age old question.
what would Neil patrick harris do?
Raised by television, naturally I remember how doogie would sit at his pc before credits, and summarize what he'd learned that episode. A giant computer and the simplest word processing program ever. now I lay in bed using a smart phone more powerful than any pc of that era, not only typing, but publishing in a global arena. Assuming someone is reading this of course. If doogie had a blog he'd have tons of readers. He could have shared his wisdom with the world, one carefully crafted conclusion at a time. all with one font and vinnie climbing out of his window.
Unfortunately, my day yielded no valuable insight into the human condition. no concisely worded summations of observations and conclusions reached will follow. Seems like I bit of a rip. But I guess every episode can't win an emmy.
8.19.2009
Like so many other people with qwerty keypads and an unlmt text plan, I often get drunk and text random shit to random people. Here's a classic:
Drunk text#147:
The only acceptable thing to mix grand mairner with is henessy. Atm is never okay. Unless you've had a lot of grand mairner and henessy. Maybe. She would have to be okay with it. Flip flops and atm are never okay except when it rains on the fourth sunday, and the molecular weight of the former outwieghs the ladder. Never climb a ladder after atm, as that is considered bad luck in Many cultures. And if u do, check your blance as you mau be over drawn and inccur a penalty from your bank. Which is probably owned by a jew. Who love atms. U see? Its all one big conspiracy. There's a man on the grassy knoll and an alphabet in my soup. Someone stop this crazy thing........
The zen of waiting:
Wait is relative to your position in space time, and the pull of gravity plus mass, but only for baptist and protestants, not christians who have mass in an hour. Your wait on the sun would be much shorter than your wait on the moon, as the sun has a stronger gravitational pull. If two trains left boston and la, they would have they same relative wait, given that the person boarding said trains could be in two places at once and was Afraid to fly. A ton of bricks waits more than a ton of feathers since feathers fly and bricks just wait. Its dangerous to wait on i-10 cuz them people be hatin. Since space is curved, if you wait longer enough your right back where you started, but don't wait on the power company. Diets don't work for folks with wait problems. Patience is the key, but don't lose the number to the lock smith. Or you'll be waiting a long time. But losing wait is healthy.
Wait is relative to your position in space time, and the pull of gravity plus mass, but only for baptist and protestants, not christians who have mass in an hour. Your wait on the sun would be much shorter than your wait on the moon, as the sun has a stronger gravitational pull. If two trains left boston and la, they would have they same relative wait, given that the person boarding said trains could be in two places at once and was Afraid to fly. A ton of bricks waits more than a ton of feathers since feathers fly and bricks just wait. Its dangerous to wait on i-10 cuz them people be hatin. Since space is curved, if you wait longer enough your right back where you started, but don't wait on the power company. Diets don't work for folks with wait problems. Patience is the key, but don't lose the number to the lock smith. Or you'll be waiting a long time. But losing wait is healthy.
And another:
Drunken text#33
Why would anyone ever train a gorilla to throw alligators? That crazy talk man; nobody works out in six minutes....its seven minutes man, seven minute abs. Shit. That's the hole point. And when ur end up with a menthol short and tw samuels when u wanted a winston and cognaca, what the fuck you gon do then slick. Times tickin, the conductors punching tickets, and thsi here train don't stop but in paradise. Will they let u in with a hipflask of homebrew and a dime bag of scwhag is the question. Priase jesus, may the offerings be bountiful. And if not let them rot in hell, with the fuckerz who invented flip flopsn and the federal reserve banking system. Bhuddah name be praised
in the begining...
who am i and why should you care what i have to say about stuff?
there's no easy answer to that.
as for who i am, the short version is pretty simple:
I'm a musician who masquerades as a head shop manager by day, a sound man some nights and weekends, and a writer in my dreams. of course, that's making a really long story really short.
as for why you should read this, i haven't the faintest idea. i could spin off a few lines on shared experiences and opinions and so on and so forth, but in all honesty that's mostly bullshit. people write blogs because of ego; because they think their experiences are more valuable than others. and I'm no different. or maybe i am. i guess in time well see. maybe I'm wrong about it all.
and so i these virtual pages you will find all manner of random thoughts and musings, some pertenant to you and what your going though, most not. for example:
What kind of people come to head shops at ten in the morning? Still haven’t figured that one out yet. If you are one of those people, please clue me in: why don’t you have anything better to do? Work, school, sleep; there’s tone of other options besides wake up and go try to talk to the head shop guy and pick up a new piece. I guarantee that head shop guy is probably hung over from a mos def concert the night before, or sat up all night watching screen adaptations of Tennessee Williams plays., and he doesn’t really feel like talking to anybody in his first 15 to 30 minutes at work. But then again I’m probably being selfish. I just asked a customer, in the nicest way possible of course, what brought her to a head shop at ten thirty in the morning.
“well, I have a son, and I cant really come in here with him, so his daddy just got off work and he with him now…..plus I’m such a morning person, ill go to bed at ten….”
I guess kids are a pretty good reason. I guess.
so yeah. good luck with that.
there's no easy answer to that.
as for who i am, the short version is pretty simple:
I'm a musician who masquerades as a head shop manager by day, a sound man some nights and weekends, and a writer in my dreams. of course, that's making a really long story really short.
as for why you should read this, i haven't the faintest idea. i could spin off a few lines on shared experiences and opinions and so on and so forth, but in all honesty that's mostly bullshit. people write blogs because of ego; because they think their experiences are more valuable than others. and I'm no different. or maybe i am. i guess in time well see. maybe I'm wrong about it all.
and so i these virtual pages you will find all manner of random thoughts and musings, some pertenant to you and what your going though, most not. for example:
What kind of people come to head shops at ten in the morning? Still haven’t figured that one out yet. If you are one of those people, please clue me in: why don’t you have anything better to do? Work, school, sleep; there’s tone of other options besides wake up and go try to talk to the head shop guy and pick up a new piece. I guarantee that head shop guy is probably hung over from a mos def concert the night before, or sat up all night watching screen adaptations of Tennessee Williams plays., and he doesn’t really feel like talking to anybody in his first 15 to 30 minutes at work. But then again I’m probably being selfish. I just asked a customer, in the nicest way possible of course, what brought her to a head shop at ten thirty in the morning.
“well, I have a son, and I cant really come in here with him, so his daddy just got off work and he with him now…..plus I’m such a morning person, ill go to bed at ten….”
I guess kids are a pretty good reason. I guess.
so yeah. good luck with that.
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