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Archive for April, 2006

 
|| April 30, 2006 || 2:22 am || Comments (0) ||

fulfilled

when my hair

looks something like

a mad scientist

would sport and

your teeth rest

against my spine

–both humming the

same irreverent and

pitchy scream/song–

dragging meaty, gulping

breaths between them

then I am

so very fulfilled.

::: :: ::: :: ::: :: :::

The chief good of getting roused from the midst of a good slumber to get laid is that, well, YOU GOT LAID. The chief ill of getting roused from the midst of a good slumber to get laid is that you run the risk of being all jumped-up and jivey in the middle of a perfectly good, muggy night. Maxim is back there, beautiful long limbs flopped out akimbo and crossways over the bed, and I’m here a-courting you people.

I would say “NOT FAIR.” but hello? I just had a couple of mighty fine, tendons-screaming-type orgasms and who on earth wants to ruin that business with some bitching and ingratitude? So I believe I’ll tell you a story in attempt to tucker myself out a wee bit. Look, there’s a yawn already!

Earlier tonight, The Dear Spousy Person and I were in the Root Of All Heinousness (I know, I know, I used to tell you people how much I adored that place, but Holy Damn, I’ve since come to myself and repented) picking up a few little things and just making some conversation. Our schedules, presented with many and varied obstacles, never seem to coincide these days and so we carve out alone moments where we can. This means that if heartfelt conversation is to happen, it can and will indeed happen on aisle four next to the dog biscuits and just a stone’s toss from various potting soils and fertilizers.

(lately I’ve been wanting to Europeanise –SEE?– everything, trading the hard and very commital ‘zee’ for a softer and more seductive ‘ess’; however, I will save that for my inevitable expatriation, so that I am a total and complete traitor to the Great Red White and Blue Way Of Tasting, Smelling and Just Overall Being)

So, our retail travels found us in the feminine products area (which, in my opinion, is woefully small considering how heavily such things are advertised here in the U.S.) of the store. We were on a mission to procure some of these, which is no surprise to you if you know anything at all about me. BECAUSE, if you do indeed know anything at all about me, you must surely be aware/know with absolute conviction that I am all about The Smellgoodtm. Those things, those eedle moistened bit of papery cloth –or clothy paper, as it were– smell so fucking delightful that I keep a box in each restyroom of this house as well as a box in my gymbag. When I am out and about and happen to lay eyes on a beefy bohunk of a fellow, I want to dab one of these behind my ears and in the crooks of my knees because they are that damn appealing; I would not even have to holler “HELLOOOOOOOooooo, BOYS!” as is my fetching manner, I would just dab the pulse points and stand upwind of my male victim intended. Go buy your woman a box now. Present it with a note on fine linen paper that says, “I got you these not because I believe you have a case pf the smelly bits, but because the pinnacle of all folks with good taste and knower of fine things, Jett ByGod Superior, said they would make you swoony and delight you beyond the measure of the three bones I spent on them. For RILLS.”

Okay, back to me and my personal, very own beefy bohunky guy: We were in the feminine product section of retail hell, and we fully realized that we were obligated to giggle like twelve-year-olds over the names of various douche-type products. I read them quietly aloud, and Maxim was responsible for the pithy witticisms that we were committed to spitting out.

“Oh gack, I love it: Gennnntllle Whiiiiiisperrr.”

“Yeah,” he said wryly, “It’s going all,” here his voice became an exaggerated stage whisper,”‘Wash your pussy, bitch, it stay-ainks!’

The game had to stop then, because standing in the feminine products aisle barking like a goosed hyena attracts all manner of unwanted attention from those what’s in charge. Don’t you people ever accuse us people of not knowing how to properly embrace life.

 
|| April 29, 2006 || 8:40 pm || Comments (0) ||

Ooooh, hey, OOOOH!

Hot dang. There will be nifty things from me slapped up there in the future.

 
|| April 28, 2006 || 1:50 pm || Comments (1) ||

Take it from me;

You cannot possibly have a poor day when wearing mint green Converse Chucks.

Also, I bet you’re getting damned sick of hearing the Drive-By Truckers every time you come here. CONTENT! There is content in my head, but it seems as if I’m always too busy these days to seat it on the page. There are kid things like ballparks and boyfriends and band rehearsals. Then there are grown-up things like gigs and shows and work. They push my life into a jumble that is punctuated by meal preparations and sleep. It is a comfortable jumble, and I have been both sleeping and eating well.

I’ve been trying to take care of myself, spiritually and physically, but some of the emotional stuff is getting left by the wayside for now. My body is still healing from the wreck (I’ve been utterly, utterly amazed by this process) and much of my energy is going into that, not leaving room to ‘tap into myself’, as it were…much less scribble it on a bit of scrap. The limp is nearly gone, supplanted by a shambly walk that camouflages pretty suitably what range of motion I still lack.

Thanks for all of the e-mails and calls. Your ability to be consistent shames me and warms me all at the same time. This period is a time of emotional rest and physical refreshment. It’s nice to be me right now. Really. And I will tell you stories soon enough, my delicious people.

 
|| April 20, 2006 || 12:44 pm || Comments (5) ||

Golden Days

I keep forgetting to mention that AlexTedDaveSteve are being featured in a fillyum.

This is excellent, as it makes for some creamy-fresh footage of the fellas readily available for me to point you to. For example, the Damnwells getting way, way down with Augustana at NYC’s Knitting Factory a few weeks back. It’s a little ditty I’ve mentioned here before, and they throw that sucker down and stomp all over it before picking it up and kissing its cheek.

Imagine that, boys and girls, a couple of damn fine bands having a grand old time playing music. Doesn’t happen often enough these days.

 
|| April 8, 2006 || 12:26 am || Comments (3) ||

Gullywashing

(go on and skip the musicks below on ahead to ‘Space City’…mash the right arrow ’til you see a big moonface in the square; the words will wait until the song is right)

The rain, much as I love it –desire it, even–, pulls the forlorn up and to the forefront of me tonight.

Out walking in it. Anywhere, oh anywhere but here. There will be red mud in the morning, like the earth has bled up its sorrows and washed them across my front walk.

“I BLEED TOO!” it will yell at me, “STOP BEING SO FUCKING SELF-CENTERED, BECAUSE I BLEED, TOO, AND IT CUTS A THICKER TRAIL THAN YOUR PUNY ARTERIES COULD EVER PRODUCE.”


The Drive-By Truckers make some damn fine musical portry

 
|| April 5, 2006 || 11:54 pm || Comments (1) ||

Take note, oh gentle Muffinasses.

Someday, when they do my Biography on A&E (and they will, all you haters out there!) I want the following worked in as my ‘quirky’ factoid.

Proof that I am a writer is this: The other night I took notes for a piece down on a 4″x4″x12″ cardboard box. I don’t give two fucks if I never see one dime. That proves me as legit.

 
|| April 3, 2006 || 9:29 pm || Comments (2) ||

Oh no they dinnit!

The choreographed headbanging is priceless.

You didn’t even guess that was the loverly Jada Pinkett Smith fronting that band, did you? Wonder what Will “I am the Bill Cosby of rap” Smith thinks of all the references to incest and fuckwords in her extreeeeeemely poorly-written songs?

I was feeling adventurous, and went to the band’s website. Lordy-lordy, you people. Allow me to quote some lyrics from the song ‘Bleed All Over Me’:

I crave your pain and how it soaks me in

I crave your pain cause I’m its only friend

And I need the way your grief finds me and breaks in my arms

And I need the way I drink your anger it keeps me so warm

Kids, that is some wicked-ass kindergartener hardcore. Seriously, if Dr. Seuss did death metal, I’m just sayin’; Jada done stepped all over his game.

Maxim only had two things to say:

“That was the longest four minutes ever.” and

“”I can hear their music screaming bloody murder while it’s not even playing.”

My review of this band aural heinousness in fifteen words or less:

It’s one thing to have bad lyrics. It’s quite another to understand them. SHEESH.

UPDATE: “You want to bash somebody’s head open in the pit? Go right ahead. You know what I mean?” AHHHHHHHAhaha!

video found at melliloulou’s