I just finished recording at Watchmen. The 7 song cdep should be out soon. Now I'm heading over to Java Johns to drop a demo tape off and catch my friends; Little Techies, playing.
No thanks to Joe and Beth who backed out of going along. You missed a fun time.
http://www.propagandamatrix.com/
http://jerusalem.indymedia.org
Social scientific inquiry into liberation theory, scientific socialism and critical theory perspectives on contemporary culture.
Saturday, April 06, 2002
Friday, April 05, 2002
Bob Lonsberry; boy I sure do love this guy. He's always good for a laugh. ALF is a terrorist group and they were the ones that contaminated yr milk, not the factory farm. and Matthew Shepard is in hell and diversity training is the work of the devil.
Now today's poem is about how much of a fool I am and how hideous I am.
We have the worst habit of losing things
Once you've found something good it's impossible to hang on to
And maybe it's because labeling things as perfect - moments and mementos - makes them turn elusive
You couldn't understand the concept of necessary losses
You begged and pleaded as she walked through the door
You were crawling on the ground and crying like a child
Saying, "Don't go, I'll change, don't go."
And with every word you spoke, a part of you died
Until you were nothing
Just dead weight sprawled out on the kitchen tile at sunset, quietly weeping
So maybe love and hate lose their meaning in the context of loss
Like how I love and hate you passionately
But I'm definately not indifferent
I'm a fool
I'm the good guy that is always there; quietly in the background
And I can't be the one who anyone would ever take seriously
Even though I've never taken the good girls seriously
So maybe I'll study the commies and queers
Like Allen and Peter
Who lived together in Berkley until they both moved away and reconvened in India
Who went to CP-USA meetings unashamedly
Who smoked marajuana and took LSD and we unlawfully married
But the question of loss and human emotion still remains
As the red stars reenter the parts of my brain where the innosence faded and was worn threadbare
But maybe this is all a game
And we're merely pawns for the gods' amusement
And the difference between visionaries or prophets and normal humans is that they realize and accept their insignificance
I'm sick inside
Inside this mind of mine I'm quite insane
Inside my little brain
It's all made of chocolate and egg whites
and it's disgusting the way some people feel (so helpless) inside
Now today's poem is about how much of a fool I am and how hideous I am.
OK, So maybe I Love/Hate You X
We have the worst habit of losing things
Once you've found something good it's impossible to hang on to
And maybe it's because labeling things as perfect - moments and mementos - makes them turn elusive
You couldn't understand the concept of necessary losses
You begged and pleaded as she walked through the door
You were crawling on the ground and crying like a child
Saying, "Don't go, I'll change, don't go."
And with every word you spoke, a part of you died
Until you were nothing
Just dead weight sprawled out on the kitchen tile at sunset, quietly weeping
So maybe love and hate lose their meaning in the context of loss
Like how I love and hate you passionately
But I'm definately not indifferent
I'm a fool
I'm the good guy that is always there; quietly in the background
And I can't be the one who anyone would ever take seriously
Even though I've never taken the good girls seriously
So maybe I'll study the commies and queers
Like Allen and Peter
Who lived together in Berkley until they both moved away and reconvened in India
Who went to CP-USA meetings unashamedly
Who smoked marajuana and took LSD and we unlawfully married
But the question of loss and human emotion still remains
As the red stars reenter the parts of my brain where the innosence faded and was worn threadbare
But maybe this is all a game
And we're merely pawns for the gods' amusement
And the difference between visionaries or prophets and normal humans is that they realize and accept their insignificance
I'm sick inside
Inside this mind of mine I'm quite insane
Inside my little brain
It's all made of chocolate and egg whites
and it's disgusting the way some people feel (so helpless) inside
Thursday, April 04, 2002
There are two events in Brockport today that I may be attending. The first is open mic night at Java Junction. I will hopefully be playing a set, although one never knows with these things. If that doesn't work out, I'll be at a talk by a Catholic worker on his visit to Iraq and the effects of the sanctions. That will be at 7 in room 119 of the Seymor College Union at SUNY Brockport. More info on Iraq: http://www.endthesanctions.org/.
Also, I found this page interesting because I've been recieveing multiple e-mails similar to the one described in the article: The 419/Nigerian Scam
Also, I found this page interesting because I've been recieveing multiple e-mails similar to the one described in the article: The 419/Nigerian Scam
Monday, April 01, 2002
Sorry, I've been swamped between school work, the chapter I'm writing for a book being published by Amal Press, my new Yellow Times article, volunteering at Foodlink, seeing Ben Kweller at the Record Archive on Tuesday, the show at Java Junction this Thursday and recording at Watchmen Studios on Saturday. So, yeah, I have a pretty busy week. I'll probably update more regularly and put more poetry up next week.
http://www.mital-u.ch/
http://www.groundscore.org/
http://www.thebird.org/
http://www.fourfa.com/
http://www.mital-u.ch/
http://www.groundscore.org/
http://www.thebird.org/
http://www.fourfa.com/