gallas13

you tossed a blanket from the bed
you lay upon your back, and waited;
you dozed, and watched the night revealing
the thousand sordid images
of which your soul was constituted;
they flickered against the ceiling.
and when all the world came back
and the light crept up between the shutters
and you heard the sparrows in the gutters,
you had such a vision of...
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one must have a mind of winter
to regard the frost and the boughs
of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

and have been cold a long time
to behold the junipers shagged with ice,
the spruces rough in the distant glitter

of the january sun; and not to think
of any misery in the sound of the wind,
in the sound of a few leaves,...
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"a lie told often enough becomes the truth."

-vladimir ilyich lenin

fucking jersey. you would have thought lemmy kilmister was worth the trip, and if he was it was only marginally so. never have i been surrounded by so many freaks, vagabonds, ne'er do wells, and all around bottom feeders. forgive me if i sound arrogant or pompass, but i should have known to turn...
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i suspect writing is a bit like fucking, which is only fun for amateurs. old whores don't do much giggling.

-hunter s. thompson

there is a jackass at the port authority bowling alley who acts like he's seen it all. he walks back and forth, up and down the lanes, goading the patrons into bowling various spares and strikes or some such combinations in return...
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these guys are going to be your next favorite band:

www.bigbigbusiness.com

edited to add that i realized today when i got my king diamond tickets that i'll be in london when he's playing. sumanabencha. anyway if anybody is looking for a pair of tickets to see the danish darklord himself, i flip 'em for face. april 20th.

the car's on fire
and there's no driver at the wheel

and the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides

and a dark wind blows

the government is corrupt
and we're on so many drugs
with the radio on and the curtains drawn

we're trapped in the belly of this horrible machine
and the machine is bleeding to death

the sun has fallen...
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i should have thought
in a dream you would have brought
some lovely, perilous thing,
orchids piled in a great sheath,
as who would say (in a dream),
"i send you this,
who left the blue veins
of your throat unkissed."

why was it that your hands
(that never took mine),
your hands that i could see
drift over the orchid-heads
so carefully,
your hands,...
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once upon a time a young chap went to one of the suares put on by affiliates of this here site. apparently i. . . i mean he . . .rattled the natives by trying to score a bump, or maybe i was just too drunk in general. . .anyway the protagonist was me. i don't know and it doesn't really matter. the end result...
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so hangs the hour like fruit fullblown and sweet,
our strict and desperate avatar,
despite that antique westward gulls lament
over enormous waters which retreat
weary unto the white and sensual star.
accept these images for what they are--
out of the past a fragile element
of substance into accident.
i would speak honestly and of a full heart;
i would speak surely for the...
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the new lou barlow album made me cry.

this is me we're talking about.