We’re almost through the first week of Fall and it’s shaping up very nicely here on the East Coast. We are experiencing light cloud cover and light to moderate rain.
Even though the Summer is over do not become discouraged, Summer Wine can still be consumed with a ferocity not seen since the Roman Empire.
Thought: Why is the imagery of wine always so classy?
Gentle breezes, calming and temperate California, Italian or French weather, walking with a lover along a beach, decadent grapes, expensive and exotic cheeses, friendly salutations, older attractive white men and women in tuxedos and cocktail dresses gently breathing in the aroma of their glasses with well-tempered nostrils.
Don’t these people ever get trashed of this stuff? Yes, yes they do I’ve seen them, but somehow they hold onto a certain amount of class. Cheers! Cheers to the wine-drinking elite and their campaign of beautiful images for wine.
“Your lies are fluorescent my baby-faced angel
Grow a fucking heart love.”-Elbow
Don’t put this note by your face on the pillow
Don’t put this letter in the pocket near your heart
Keep it in the bottom drawer where you hide the sex tools
I pray you always need them
I know what you have done
I know what you have done
Throwing advice like grenades at the table
You’re spinning your wisdom in stories that change
Your lies are fluorescent my baby-faced angel
Grow a fucking heart love
I know what you have done
I know what you have done
I’ve got your number
I’ve got your number
I’ve got your number
You’ve got my number
Brooklyn
Bronx
Bands
Booze
Boston
Barney’s
Buses
Boots
I left Brooklyn yesterday and it looks like I’ll be back there in a little over a week.
I love the East Coast and I’ve got some good people out here. I feel like no one hangs out that much in Los Angeles. Maybe it’s just a little too vastly expansive, fuck I don’t know, but I enjoyed myself in NY and I’m enjoying my time alone in Boston.
My friends in BK helped me to not have to sleep on a hardwood floor more than one of the four nights I was there. Thanks for letting me crash, thanks for the tickets to the free shows, thanks for the company, the talks, and thanks for just being good people. Jesus, I managed to see The Mars Volta AND Slick Rick on two consecutive nights.
I love New York; I’m spoiled there. Now I have to decide if I want to spend money for a ticket to the Mogwai show in Boston only to go by myself… Decisions, decisions.
Who can I call at 3:18AM? Not that I have anything to talk about, but who will pick up? Why would they even pick up? People used to answer my calls in the middle of the night, especially before a cell phone could stop its ring with the push of a button.
Were my drunken calls more important than my calls of clarity? Maybe I would saw something more worthwhile than calling the person on the other end of the phone names and then asking them how they got this number, or slur some sexist or obscene epitaph before hanging up in their sleepy ear.
Not that I am much better. I barely answer my phone when it’s daytime. Unless it’s a really odd hour like 9AM or 11AM, then maybe I would answer just to pretend that I wasn’t sleeping.
This is the first movement in a larger overall piece.
This is a song & video I wrote, produced, performed, recorded, shot, directed, wardrobe-styled and edited about repeating the Third Grade from 11:22PM (09/01/08) until 4:47AM (09/02/08). I never actually had to repeat the Third Grade, but I think it’s apparent why I wrote it.
I have to go away for a little while, maybe a long while. After 10 years of being here I’m leaving California, the Wild West, and I have nothing to say right now. I would like to find my very own famous blue raincoat since where I’m going it actually rains.
In the fourth Quarter of the Orwellian year of Anno Domini 1984, two competing films were released. They were both science fiction tales. One had a multi-million dollar budget. A world renowned author as both director and writer. A leading actor with credits spanning the past fifteen years and it also had a member of KISS in a co-starring role.
On the other hand, the corresponding film had a budget of less than 7 million dollars. A new writer/director attached and starred an ex-Champion body builder with few credits to his name.
Let us visit the trailers and let us guess which film reigned supreme in that year of our Lord, 1984.
