A Midsummer Haiku

White hot July sun
Glittering concrete sidewalks,
Truth drips from her sweat

I almost forgot about this...

http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/group.php?gid=4730798525

Eno

An Ending (Ascent)

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Roll the dying baby into the village square

Something Sharp in My Sock

- El Fiesta
- Total Crap
- The Strange Rule of the Trash King
- Golem Umbrella Salesman
- Ho! Pass me yonder breathing device!
- Dimension Glue Residue
- Straight Jacket Outta the Dryer
- Boneloose
- Follow You Down the Crater
- Lassie and the Inkwells
- Still Wide 'Neath the Web
- The Well Known Dead
- Dark Backyard Freedom

There is a Burning Ball of Fire in Outer Space

I've already pushed this song on a bunch of you I'm sure.  But I can't help it.  I love it too much.  People know Girl Talk and other mash up DJs pretty well, but this band, Kids & Explosions, manages to make its own sound often by making the cuts and edits a little more jarring yet alluring in their combinations and selections.  Try 'em:



Combining Biggie's "Suicidal Thoughts" with Sigor Ros's "Vaka / Untitled 1" with Destiny's Child's "Survivor" and Berlin's "Take My Breath Away" from Top Gun is a great, damn idea.

Band Names - Original List

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The Trouble with Thought

            As the three of them stood there, their eyes wandering about in the subway station ceiling, Moe thought to himself, “I don’t even know what I’m doing here.  Maybe this was a bad idea.”  He looked at his watch, but wondered why his last thought seemed so forced, because he didn’t feel like that at all.  Moe couldn’t have been more excited for their impending clubbing adventure.   Again he thought, “I could’ve been home, watching the Cheers marathon.”  Moe looked around wild eyed, “Cheers?  I’ve never liked that show.  What the hell is going on?”  Moe, I am the author of this story, so I’d appreciate it if you’d go along with what I write.  It makes things go a lot smoother.  “What the Fuck?!” Moe yelled.  His two friends looked at him, a bit startled.

“What’s that about Moe?” asked Wallace.

“I don’t know, but I just got the creepiest of feelings,” said Moe. “Said Moe?! Who are you…what are you?  How are you in my head?”  Moe’s friends started to get a bit scared because they knew Moe never tried to carry on a joke, because he had such a bad poker face.  “All right you guys, I’m really freaked out right now.  I think I may have some kind of split personality going on…something really serious, because I hear another voice in my head right now.” 

Wallace contemplated this and looked over at Chris, the third of their trio.  Unconvinced, he said to Moe, “This is pretty impressive Moe, I have to admit.  But no one who is honestly ‘crazy’, says stuff like that.  They just act crazy, and we don’t find out about the other voices until some gorillas in white jumpsuits hold them down until the doc finally gets them to cough it up.  Crazy people don’t just analyze their insanity like that.  Good try Moe, but your act needs some work.”

Moe almost protested this, but figured maybe it would go away or work itself out or something.  He didn’t notice, however, that Chris still looked very concerned about the whole situation.  Upon hearing the voice again, Moe turned to look at Chris, saw the look in his eyes, and started to really freak out.  Okay, Moe it seems that I’m losing my narrator's anonymity, and some of my words are coming out onto the paper in some other frequency or something, one that apparently only you can hear.  So for the rest of this story, you’re just going to have to pretend that you don’t hear me.  I know this may all be a little bit strange for you, knowing that you only exist in my imagination, but for the sake of the story, and even for the sake of your enjoyment of the rest of your limited story life, could you just pretend not to hear me for now on?  Shivers ran up and down Moe’s spine, and he sat down on a bench to try to regain control of reality.  Wallace laughed while Chris continued to stare.  The tracks rattled and the noise of the subway train started to echo off the walls until the doors of the train opened right in front of them.  The three sifted through the exiting passengers and found a few seats near the back.  Just as the doors started to close, the hooded figure called Tim made his move from the bench and slipped onto the train, fingering the safety, “off” on his pistol.  Moe, who by now, had decided that he would go along with this “voice” in hopes that it would go away if he indeed, did ignore it.  But upon hearing about these last words, Moe forgot about the absurdity of a “voice” in his head, because now life itself was on the line.  And the voice had said something about this being a story, so maybe it was all true.  Maybe he was a random character of the moment created only to get killed in some sick author’s plot.  So Moe figured himself, if not just crazy, at least crazy and lucky, considering most characters don’t receive hints from the author about their fates.  Moe heard this and smiled a twisted smile.  He eased himself up from his seat as this so-called “Tim” made his way from the doors towards Moe and his friends. 

“Tim!” Moe shouted, “It’s been such a long time!  How are you doing?”  Tim didn’t expect anything like this, and it caught him off guard.  He searched his memory frantically to make sure he wasn’t about to kill his childhood friend.  Moe was riding his adrenaline now, and reached out his hand to Tim. 

Tim thought, “Fuck, it can’t be Scotty Davies.  No, it can’t be.  They told me his name was Moe.  I have to do it though, there’s no other way to get out of the clan.” 

Of course Moe heard all this, and quickly yelled, “It’s Scotty! Don’t you remember, Scotty Davies!” 

Tim stood for a second, frozen.  Then he pulled the pistol out and shouted, “Scotty, they told me you did some bad shit.  I don’t want to have to do this but it’s my only way out.  I don’t have any other options!” 

Moe saw all the vindication he needed of his new reality and held up his hands, backing away slowly, “Tim they lied to you.  They’ve always been lying to you.  They’re sick and twisted.  They know you want out, so they’re making you kill your friend.  Don’t you see?”

“How do you know that?  I don’t know what you might’ve turned into after all these years!” Tim shouted, shoving the pistol into Moe’s chest.

            “I know…” Moe’s mind raced “because they did the same thing to me, but I escaped their game, and that’s why they sent you after me.”

            Throughout this entire dialogue, Wallace and Chris had turned white, seeing their own childhood friend become a stranger, no less a criminal of some kind.  Moe continued his negotiation, knowing that any rational thought could blow his cover and end it all right then, “Tim.  I can get you out of this.  Trust me.  I know the clan inside and out, just put the gun down.”

            Tim began to lower his pistol slowly, and shivers now ran down his back.  Moe looked up at the sound of the voice again, almost forgetting about how things had escalated so quickly.  He thought to himself, “I wonder if this is how you planned the story.”  Moe began thinking out his next move, how he could get he and his friends away from this “Tim” and wondered when the next stop was coming.  Suddenly, Tim was struck by a strange voice in his head, very clear and defined, depicting the scene at hand from the perspective of his old friend.

            “Moe?” Tim asked out loud, his nerves running wild.  “Why did he call you Moe, Scotty?”

            Moe went cold like the first time he heard the voice and thought, “Oh Fuck.”  Tim pulled his pistol back up but Moe knocked his arm as he shot, sending the bullet into Chris’s foot making him scream.

            There was a vicious struggle for control of the weapon.  The two kicked and wrestled down the aisle, as the train barreled on through the basement of the city, the next stop now only a few seconds away.  All the passengers blinked dumbly upon hearing a defined voice narrating the scene in front of them.  A few of them even made a break for the doors, their fear only making them more willing to trust mysterious voices.  The gun sprayed bullets into the ceiling and seats as Moe threw Tim to the ground.  Tim landed a kick on Moe’s chest and knocked him back.  He picked himself up and pointed the gun, again, at Moe.  At that moment, the doors to the subway car opened and I walked in clapping.

            “Bravo, my characters, I certainly couldn’t have done it without you. You see, you are all my creations, and I was just so pleased with how you all reacted to my accidental leaking of my narrator’s voice, so I had to come into the story and congratulate you myself…Seriously, Tim, put the gun down, don’t you recognize my voice?  I’m the author of the story that you are a character in…Tim? No, no, put the gun down!

            The shot rang out while the subway cars were still opened.  A silence like never before filled the station.  It wasn’t that Tim didn’t realize who he was.  He knew exactly who the man was, and he killed him, for toying with them all like puppets.  The narrator’s body lay still, blocking the door, which the rest of them exited out of, filled with the strangest feeling of freedom.  The man had broken the most coveted of narrator rules by entering into his own creation.  Ever since he showed up in our writing clan, I knew his arrogance would anger the other narrators, but I had no idea it would lead to something like this.

Discoveries

Last night I found two things from my past: A list of things that I planned to accomplish in life circa my 16th birthday, and a poem I wrote freshman year in college. Naturally, I decided to post both.

The New Year

I was embarrassed when my phone rang
as we were paying for the motel room.
I fumbled in my pockets wondering
why I was concerned with this woman's
opinion of my ringtone as I stood next to
a boy saying “just one night”.

I had waited three years to ride in his Jeep.
She and I had scanned the parking lot,
awaiting its arrival every weekend.
And now I saw the empty cigarette packs,
video game cases, and the tiny stuffed
frog that scattered themselves about,
decorating his dashboard.

It was more than a game for me but
I still enjoyed playing and when
the time would come to confess,
I would lie.

And she wasn't here to look for the
blue moon through the clouds and
she wouldn't be taking a shot of rum from
the strange man in the room next door
at midnight and talking about convenient stores
with strategically placed gift shops that
reek of pink and red.

But I was there to tuck him in when
he started to panic and I was the one
taking a drag off of his cigarette and I
made sure he put on his sweatshirt before
going out into the cold but I
never had any interest.


"Life List"
1. Lose 60 pounds - Sorry, kiddo. Don't think that one's going to happen.
2. Forgive My Dad - Eh. I've started to, I suppose.
3. Learn Russian - I switched to German!
4. Get Bellybutton Pierced - Check.
5. Dye Hair Red - Check. Preferred the natural, obviously.
6. Start living instead of just existing - I think I do this as much as I possibly can while not stumbling further and further into debt.
7. Be in Maxim Magazine - I had unbelievably high standards for myself, clearly. I prefer self respect at this point...
8. Do the Splits - Fail.
9. Go on a road trip with no predetermined destination - And that's how Allibeth and I ended up in Canada!
10. Watch imdb's 100 worst movies - I still think this is a good plan. Who's with me?

Atop Summer's Smokestack

Hanging hair plays on thermals;
You sit pretty, you pretty,

Like the earth's tethered child
Cast on a solar flare's hook.

The sun she lies beneath you,
And you tip your hat of stars.

Shoes slip off your dangled feet;
Einstein and Icarus smile.

Werewolf

I'm not sure what's categorized as "experimental" music these days when a band like Animal Collective has kids wearing their t-shirts. But I always find it interesting when an artist manages to bridge the gap between something pleasant to the ears and something that is downright abstract. The band below has some amazing, amazing songs, and their sound is somewhere between lullabies, folk, electronic, with some hip hop and spoken word thrown in here and there? I don't know, I never really was good at the Rolling Stone descriptions of music. But the band is composed of two sisters, both with amazing voices, and together they're called Cocorosie. This is "Werewolf" (and the video's great too, though it contains a creepy mask):

I Am

I am a sleeper;

Cresting waves of futures,

Falling into pits of the past.

Grasping at the brass ring;

My fingers turn to smoke,

My eyes close.

My eyes open;

The night yields before me,

I slowly stand up.

I am a runner;

My lungs create fire,

My breath becomes ice.

The Earth shakes;

Continents shift underfoot,

The seas churn.

My ambitions soar;

Will becomes wings,

Wings become desire.

I am a fighter;

Fists made of dirt,

Blood pours like milk.

Heart beat quickens;

Thrust is parried,

Riposte then press.

Two figures embrace;

The battle has ended,

Passion creates desire.

I am a lover;

Sweat glistens on skin,

The pupil dilates.

Fingers grope frantically;

There is no other moment,

There is no other time.

Embrace eternity;

Fill your mind with lights,

Slip off into the nether.

I am a dreamer.

Choose Your Own Friday

A. You pop in to check on your dear old friend, Demons in My Britches, and you notice a new post. You scan down real quick to see how long it is.

a1. You don't have time for this shit.  You leave and come back in 15-360 minutes because you're bored again. Go back to A in 15-360 minutes.

OR

a2. You continue reading because you don't care about everything else you should be doing at the moment. Go to B below and hold onto your butts.

    
B. You find yourself at the end of the week hoping to deflate and unwind after your job-is-everything-in-the-DC-area type of week.

b1. You take an invite to drive, bus, train, and walk your ass all the way to the far corner of DC at the hipster/youngster/whitester oasis of H. St. and then dance your ass off at various rockin' pubs, clubs, and attics. Go to C below and grab an extra PBR for the fifteen minute wait for the shitter.

OR

b2. You decline an invite and sit your ass down on the couch with a pint of Ben & Jerry's and a four hour marathon of That 70's Show.  Go to D below and take a fifteen minute bathroom/reading/meditation break.

OR

b3. You decline an invite and a compulsion to collapse and cart your fearful ass out the door to work out.  After developing a pain in every part of your body, you manage to smile briefly for doing something physical for the first time in months.  Go to D below and take fifteen minutes to catch your breath before braving the stairs to your apartment.

OR

b4. You go on a whim to see The Tree of Life, and you are mysteriously never seen again.  The End.


C. Oh look, you're drunk again and far from home.  Your motivations and desires are quickly blurring and it looks like any of the images you're now seeing of the gyrating strangers around you, the approaching homeless family, and a strange neon sign at the end of the lit street stating plainly, "Rosebud", could be your last memory of the night.  Blackness is falling.

c1. You grab onto the nearest immovable object to steady your balance and out comes your first three hours worth of drinks followed by your dinner courtesy of the fine people at Checkers.  Go to E below and look for some napkins or a removable article of clothing you don't care about to clean yourself up.

OR

c2. You grab onto the nearest moving object of what appears to be the opposite sex to steady your balance and out comes the line, "I want your sex!"  You're not sure how they feel about it but since you haven't been tossed to the ground, you assume that they were either cool with it or didn't hear you.  Go to F and find some moves, Tony Manero.

OR

c3. You grab onto the bulky, surly bouncer to discuss the importance of his chinstrap facial hair, and he punches you in the stomach then escorts you to curb.  Here you are kindly helped into a cab by some Gallaudet students, one of which you are sure is your soul mate.  You scream out for their name, but they wave, unable to hear you, as you drift away from them into the night.  The End.

D. Fez is starting to get on your nerves and outweigh your appreciation for this easily accessible and enjoyable show.  You look around at your options.


d1. You turn off the TV, take a shower, clean up your room, reply to an email from someone you care about that you've been putting off.  You brush your teeth, climb into bed, and fall asleep to the sound of airplanes delivering souls to O'Hare, Atlanta, and Dallas-Fort Worth.  The End.


OR

d2. You start to get the itch, hop over to the ABC store, avoid the knowing looks from the cashiers that recognize you, and get out as fast as you can.  Find your way back to the apartment, pop open the bottle, and start sifting through your DVD collection.  Go to G.

OR

d3. You start to get the itch, put on slippers and a robe, and saunter over to the local watering hole, known as The Quarterdeck.  You proceed to drink 8 screwdrivers, 2 gin and tonics, and something that the fifty two year old man named Scotty bought you as he discussed his reasons he preferred life in Arlington versus anywhere else in the world.  Stagger back home.  Go to G.

E. After doing your best to wipe yourself off, you befriend a group of 30 year old women out for a bachelorette party, and they ask if you need a ride.  You're so happy to not have to pay for a cab that you can't even speak, and you squeeze into the back of their Ford Excursion.  If you were more awake, or less drunk, or both, you would worry about the state of the driver or how you might smell, but you pass out on the lap of Julie sitting next to you within seconds.

e1. They dump your carcass off miraculously by your apartment.  You climb up the stairs on all fours. Go to G.


OR

e2. They forget all about you, and you wake up in the back of a Ford Excursion wondering where the hell you are.  By the time you cab it back home and charge your phone a text message appears from the night before from someone named Julie: "You slut".  The End.

F. You find a second wind and dance like you found out you were no longer paralyzed.  All your friends seem impressed, but then when you walk out into the streetlight with them you realize you know none of the people you're with, and they all live within walking distance of the bar.

f1. You catch a cab home, well to an ATM first so you can take out enough money to pay for the cab, and then you catch it home.  Go to G.

OR

f2. You decide to walk it home because it seems like a nice night and you don't want to pay for a cab.  Four and a half hours later, the sun is out, you're fully sober, and the morning joggers try to avoid the sight of your zombie face.  You get to your apartment door and realize you forgot your keys, and your roommate's gone home for the weekend.  You curl up into a ball on the landing outside the door and go into comatose sleep.  The End.

G. You knock over all of the DVDs on your shelf as you grapple a hold of The Shining.  You throw it on and pass out during the scene where the naked lady from the tub turns into the most hideous creature ever recorded on film.  The End.

Sleepless sleeper

So when a girl who can fall asleep at any time any day can't sleep it becomes kind of a problem. You know when you are so overwhelmed nothing makes sense? It's like you regret everything you've done in a long time just because it led you to where you are, awake at 5:14 am while your puppy that never sleeps at night, sleeps. It hurts to think about everything that's gone wrong and to forget everything that's going right. It's hard to say things happen for a reason when you regret so much. I still believe that because I'm a religious person but I won't get into that since it's not that kind of blog. Most of the time I can block everything out and just pretend it has all gone away, so tonight is the opposite of any night I've had in a long time. I can't sleep and everything is coming back to me, family Problems friend Problems, everything. When you think about all your problems and realize the worst ones are your fault, it SUCKS. Again you try the it all happened for a reason trick, but it still stings. Feeling helpless, hopeless, and like you deserve it sucks also. But then again there's one other thing I strongly believe in, karma. When is it time though, to let go of whatever is bothering you no matter how bad it hurts so you can finally be happy? The thing is when bad things happen it hurts but it's funny how when you let go of them it hurts too. It's like the world's little practical joke on you. Or maybe it is it's way of saying hah screw you, you Lose either way. I'm not being optimistic or making much sense, but hey it's 5 am I haven't been awake at 5 am in months so you're welcome for writing about it... Just kidding this must be the most pointless thing. Goodnight to you lucky bastards that have your eyes shut right now.

I just dont know.

I'm at work. My store has no customers. We are just empty ALL the time. So I sit at my desk and I watch family guy. I have watched all first 127 episodes of family guy in the last month and a half. I'll tell ya....it was so worth it. For that simple fact I named my dog Griffin. I wanted to name him Brian but it's a common people name and if I heard someone say "good Rebecca, now sit, sit, NO, bad dog." I might give them a slight punch in the face. That is all I do all day five times a week so I decided to write a blog post. Too bad I don't know what to write.
Ps: I wish all my material things were blue, blue conquers all colors. It is the best.

Chorus w/ Liberties

I like to play with my money.
I like to play with my money.
I like to play with my money.
I like to play with my money.
I like to play with my money.
I like to play with my money.
I like to play with my money.

This is because I am a cool, talented, and rich man.
I am a cool, talented, and rich man.
I am a cool, talented, and rich man.
I am a cool, talented, and rich man.
I am a cool, talented, and rich man.
I am a cool, talented, and rich man.
I am a cool, talented, and rich man.

Hey,

I have a large necklace, an important name, a black timepiece, and a blue sport utility vehicle
In my performances, my crew is generally about 50 persons deep, similar to that of Wu-Tang
Driving around with no roof and television screens, a shiny metallic mouth guard, and a golden ring
I earn approximately a million dollars, and I will distribute that money amongst my team

Every gun can do damage, and every man has a vision.

Because every empire has an exceptional individual with a dream.
We make money, smoke a green plant, and drink copious amounts of alcohol.
We measure out our product with cutting edge equipment;
We are done with triple beam mechanical balances.

Hey,
I have the timepiece from an expensive and cool brand, and I have a shirtsleeve shirt from that same brand.
We have expensive hard alcohol and more expensive shirtsleeve shirts for girls.
My powerful weapon is fully loaded.
I stay focused.
I have international connections; meanwhile you all, my competitors, are provincial
There are plaques and certificates on my wall, expensive and large shiny metallic hubcaps on my car, and the best designer decorations in my home.
I have money; the kind of money to buy very expensive cars, which with the press of one button will release the roof.

Hey,
I assume you are aware that Lil' Flip, meaning I, sell enough albums that each time I earn Platinum status.
I enjoy making and having money so I am often working.
I am doing well.  Once, I took a break, but now I have come back.
I will defeat you as though you were a bug and I were a rolled up magazine smacking you.

I keep myself high most of the time, am vocal about how much better I am, and I reinforce these claims with action.
Because I am a cool, talented, and rich man; you cannot match the amount of money I have.

-approximately Lil' Flip's "I'm a Balla"

JULY is Experimental Month

Get weird.

Shameless Plug of the Month

As I'm sure many of you already know, we sometimes dabble in film making, and for those you of you that care here is our newest one.

Check the rest out here-> jesusfighterpilots.com

facebook.com/jesusfighterpilots

youtube.com/jfighterpilot