I'm like the cheese fries of music, the taco pizza of taste. As in: it hurts so good and few people want to be around you, unless they are drunk, or in a bowling alley, or both.
Meeting strangers, hearing stories of LSD, fighting and the kids, in a sticky Southern drawl. Entertaining crackers, spreads, (not a football joke, or a white person joke), Murder She Wrote. The passing of time, the passing of mile markers. Rain.
It doesnt matter what you say, it's how I feel. Which is never good. All the things that turned your bedroom into a cemetery. Bodies, ghosts, the dates of half remembered prayers.
What a week(end). Mayor McCheese, toasts, period dramas, trashy and classy sharing an evening. Superfluous adaptations, unsatisfied by sustainable waste. So empty, in the ongoing quest for authenticity in the libraries, record stores and distraction of other people, similarly affected. Expensive time killers and timekeepers. Stagnant advancement and the sweet satisfying middle, no resolution required.
Things that blow (in a good way)
Lady Gaga's "Paparazzi". I can't get over her Jewy nose and analysis of fame. The glitter and the gold that have been used by gays for years as a cheap tacky time machine.
Web Bot Internet Conspiracies, an Apocalypse Grainery 400 miles north of Norway, Terence McKenna's I Ching on the History Channel while at the Gym.
John Waters' "A Filthy World"
Vice Guide to Travel, including a jingle where children sing of their blood perfuming the soil. Patriotism, the teen years. The lonely alienated everyman.
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