whiskeyfightpit

Yeah, I'm one of the chumps in the pain in the ass camp of people who believe that language can be as improvisational as say jazz or rock. Stop making sense? Hey, I've never believed in original thought from the very beginning. There has always been some cave dwelling pre-civilized man who listened to tumbling rocks all day and howled at the moon-god way past his bedtime. At least I dress all in black and avoid the free-ball. I betcha some cave-persons got down to some serious FUCKING back then. Those cats didn't have all of these restrictive social customs to adhere to. They wasn't about to stand around the McWooly Mammoth and have idle chat about cave politics and the ever-burgeoning cave-art scene....them cats were rollin' the dough till the pre-cows came home.

oh yeah, this Keiji Haino cd EXECRATION THAT ACCEPT TO ACKNOWLEDGE is like listening to grilled hog outside a tar factory in February. Don't hate on the sword-sharp sludge from Japan, kemosabe. This shit'll fix potholes even in Alabama. METAL MACHINE MUSIC Light. But that sounds more like an insult. No, this shit here, Jim, is some real rock & roll laid to plastic like it should be. Get past the form you fucking squares. Get down to electronic sound manipulations!!! Who says you need some Jr. Walker to do the mash-potato? Next dream band for the WFP would be a combination of METAL MACHINE MUSIC and The JBs.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR...HIT IT!

VAROOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMBSUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRBLMMMMMMBBBBBBNNNNNNOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUNNNNNNMMMMMMMMMMMBBBBBB

Anyway, I'm listening to this Keiji Haino and I feel the urge to pumpkin around and tacklebox. Maybe it's an eraser calling or a lost tube of glue wax. You can never tell with these kinds of Brontosaurus attacks. Pleasure is simple for those in that kind of cracker jack. I'm told to not tomato around the brick-a-brack and telephone this emu. I've simply had enough popcorn risings in this cabbage patch. It's as if some kaleidoscope had done bought and Edsel and stole the candy bar factory from The Abominable Dr. Phibes. Godless hole punchers, the lot! Bark all you want, rabbit gums. You'll never taste the agony of road flares in tapioca wet bed. And you call me pine cone. What diapers you have! Gong me some spine jug, fairy trench! Never let 'em gallup soap balls from the Friend Forest. Or was that the Fiend Forest slightly near the truck palace? If it was west of chocolate spring can then the dopers are shit out of wet nurse. Don't you dare touch my formica talon sauce, fucktickle! Lend me yer groan and I'll weave some turkey fins for jews.

Oh, I forgot to tell you. I was trying out some of that improvised language that was discussed earlier. Truth be told, it sounds better than most of my jibba-jabba pouring out in the regular world. Probably sprung from listening to this Edgar Varese cd in conjunction with that Keiji Haino guitar-fuzz romp. Edgar Varese is like Bugs Bunny decomposing in an LSD hellhole. Possibly outside Tangiers with all of those other Homosexual writer/aliens. God knows Bugs Bunny is as much a queer icon as Dusty Springfield.

SOUNDTRACK OF THE DAY
THE CRAZY WORLD OF ARTHUR BROWN

I know I'm getting repetitive but it's SOOO DAMN GOOD IT HURTS!!!!

FIRE, I'LL TAKE YOU TO BURN!!!