26 August 2004

Stroller Ejector Seats Mandatory

The news that truly shocks
Is the empty, empty page
While the final rattle rocks
Its empty, empty cage
And I can't handle this

Whoa. Whooooooooooa. Hold on. I think... I think that... yup, those two things actually have some relation. Whoa, I'm blowin my freakin mind here. WHOA. I mean, like, whoa, dude. Okay, enough of the throw-back phrases already, let's get to some bitching and stitching, yeehaw. Yes I realize I've long been absent from the airways. I can only assume you've been rocking yourselves to sleep at night in a tight balled fetal position muttering something to the effect of "daddy will come to get me, daddy will come to get me," etc, etc just don't bunch your panties too high up your ass. You'll give yerself a hemorrhoid or something or rather, worse yet a polyp or polynytyl cyst. But I shan't apologize, it was a much needed vacation from everyone and their mother. Which brings me to point number one. I give it such designation, not because it's the most important or anything, and not really cos I came across it first in this rant, nor is it even indicative of more points to come. For all I know I could be tapped out in two more sentences. I am a little rusty you know. But at any rate I'm rocking out the laptop today, migrating through the last little bit of he unexplored abyss of the internet when I begin to hit this grossly over-protective string of obtusely self-ordained know-it-all political personages that sent me into a tirade in my small enclosure I've been recently relocated to. To which I responded by taking a shower and a 3 hour nap. What can I say, I have priorities and getting excited about pointless social commentary that only theorizes of solving problems from within an already crumbling and tainted system is just that, pointless. So I shrug. Mnyeh. Not my fight, not my cause, not my care. Just don't come near me with yor morals and we'll all be hunky-dory. Oh where did I lose the initial effort of this post. Perhaps it was between the bathroom and the hallway, or down the drain with the toothpaste. Seriously, though, why is it that people must do things en masse, ie. with the most people they can possibly get to attend a single event as simple as dinner at a restaurant. Especially, and this is key to the whole idea of dinner (seriously, it is, I will expound), when some of the people rate nowhere on your list of close friends or are partway on your list of total creepydos. Meals are meant to share community, to build it. So why try to make an event of massive amounts of people many of whom you really don't like. Oh, that's right, I'm forgetting that you're only cool if everyone and their mom tries to attend.
It could just be me though, I have long been the type to stand it alone. While people enjoy having their army of syncophants to use as shields and bolsters, I've managed for the most part to remain raw and esposed, much like half my nerves considering the number of peeves I have. In a capitalist society it seems so odd that people are constantly reaching out for community, large community, while verbally assaulting the entire idea of socialism as impossible. Am I missing something? Perhaps, considering I often think of how wonderful socialism is as well as communism in theory, though admit hindered due to human nature of greed, all the while I avert myself from community, from people in general always attempting to be a ghost of sorts, just so I can serve my own ideas/thoughts/feelings/whims, overall control over life. Quick, someeone solve that conundrum, realign the zodiac and create a utopian society. Quick like a rabbit! Hmm. I've ranted much too much without humour or any sort of laughable affect. Oi where did I go awry. Sure there was that time in the womb when I took a boot to the noggin, but it was a good day otherwise. I mean I did discover my big toe that day.
I wasn't going to post anything yet, this is a bit off the cuff and dribbling down my chin. I had every bit of intent of unveiling yet another stunning version of this massive steaming load of toilet clamour with a new brilliant sour bit of doo-doo once I had reached home. Yes, I am already referring to it as home. As far as I'm concerned I will move nowhere else afterword for one reason or the other. Most likely the latter because the former is far too obvious and the latter has that bi of menagerie and small wadded bits of gum. I mean the former could be jsut as glamourous, but since when do hotdogs ever beat out badgers in a baseball game. And I'm not talking one of those summer exhibition jaunts. I'm talkin' full-out 4 wicket knuckle rubbing mayhem, baby. But of course as you can see, this whole plan went down the drain. As I said, too many stupid people to piss me off. I'm not saying that people should keep their opinons to themselves, just to clarify. I'm saying just don't do cheap crack and watchout for the carnies this year. The inbreeding has given way to third AND fourth nipples galore. Nipply nipplefests, that's what I'm talkin' bout, Jebus, yeah Jebus, yeah.

17 August 2004

Laxative Mens Rea Coils & Stubble Rubbing Nubs

Waking up with an ugly face
Winston Churchhill in drag
Looking for a new maternal embrace
Another tired old gag
Am i just a walking bag of chewed up dust and bones

You may or may not have noticed that these little finds were used as place holders on thecornerstory.blogspot.com, but they're here now, just for the pure entertainment value. They make no sense really, but neither did the magazine they came out of, so I guess there was never much to be expected.

Car-driven sunspots hard rocking the ecstasy
Shiv-ing some carbide saw blades into sand
With these fuming dunes just clapping for thunder
We roll
Over these fertile footprints landed in gray third gravity
Cos it’s just an orbiting notion of tambourine clang
Swinging these planets on low-impact runners from a cancer
Well we’ve eaten our carotenoids lycopenes or even MAOI's
Yet somewhere in the fuzzy tempest tantrum we sucked down
Every last gel tab acronym
Yeah but it still tastes like life
Courted by the physics of a sunstroke slathered in SPF one million
I am safe in batting and lilac artificiality
Cos everyone knows sterility is the smell of everyday adventure
Can’t help but wonder what cosmic colon might shite
This next out moment sideways through pornographic piles
Jogging next year for a six day savior clinical in Adventism
For a nineteen thirty-something corvette steaming country roads
To emulsification
Something’s a bit off but it’s too long to state Frank-like
Just keep your minds numbed for the Susanine stutter
Of an abbreviated indecision

Cairo was a city just like Jersey in some time
When swaggering stars would kick off a volleyball in tap shoes
A lil' rin tin tin tippy tap salute to Ra
And comets would fall across a mis-measured rotunda
Maybe they thought that Alexandria was a fortune 500
But Bill Gates of course would’ve been forced to resign as head smartass
They did their labor like all good little nomadic undulations
Everyone’s seen their brick by brick play of masonry dust
Those vast temples we call asymmetrical abstraction
Kandinsky should have at least done some lifting despite the union
But I was lazy then too
Cos Cairo was just a city once
A small crazy town of two or three horses and a spittoon
Where we would waltz our women and whiskey dance our way
Cracking hissing rattlers in the jaw with particle beams
Another sarsaparilla don’t mind if I do
But make it Evian brand sans fluoride, microbes, and those flavin thingies
To my left I'd see Gene Autry gumming on to Pecos Bill
While Paul would set his hand on the butt end and sweet talk some babe
Of course John Wayne would want in to see
This lovely little mad house we'd made of ourselves
But we have standards to keep
No wannabes allowed in our egocentric buffalo hunts
Only cos this was Cairo you know in the days of the city
Brick streets and carriages all clacking with hoof beat beatniks
The French firing their muskets at guerilla Indians tongue-in-cheek intact
And the kindly queen taking her head from the block whistling Dixie
What pharaohs these mortals be
Sipping Tangueray on their front porches in the summer ghetto rambles
Cos Cairo was a tiny little town before it was this
Before the presidents wanted the sex and cigar fights were abundant
Should we duel anon noon you say
We'll just have to see
Cos I hear the Beatles are playing by Golden Gate tomorrow
They are more than the funky grunge answer to U2
Yeah Cairo was a city once just like Jersey shore ways
Where tipsy toddlers scuff there knees giving head to the confusion
Of this simple prayer

1 August 2004

What You Crave

His goal in life was to be an echo
The type of sound that floats around
And then back down like a feather
But in the deep chrome canyons of the loudest manhattans
No one could hear him

Now you might be wondering if changing the address while keeping the same ugly ass aluminum siding is really wortwhile. Well just so you know, it is, every penny of it. And just like that in a flash the new nook was created and a clue left so that you the reader might find this little corner of disorganized thought and spiffy chaos. I have a bit of what is called paranoia, which leads to a problem when people link their site to mine making it all too easy for people they and I know to get here, which just isn't good. Too many people knowing what goes on in my life does not being me comfort, I'd rather hold that in check if I ever am to be approached for a game of "cards" leaving the deck stacked in this manner seeing as I have a bit of knowledge of everyone. So you might have found your way back to this place, and I must admit it shouldn't have been very hard seeing as I didn't try very hard to hide it. You could have even googled or yahooed it to find the new address assuming the bots finally cataloged the change. The point is I always quite fancied being a ghost, and so as I do every so often (just about every four years or so) I disappear and only resurface to surprise and scare people then disappearing only to be unremembered again. And so on, and so forth. It may seem old and immature but I started doing ti a long time ago and feel it is only right to finish what I started as long as there's a place to move to and a home to find. We have our traditions as silly as they may seem.
White Castle, that's what I crave, well I did crave awhile ago, but then again you'll have that when watching Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle. While not entirely identical in nature but similar enough to be true to the coe beliefs, the movie mirrored many a late night trip in the ghettos of the land of clevs made by me and a few of my now termed "acquaintances" in search of drunk food and burgers (fur burgers that is) from Taco Hell to White Castle with the orders of 40 or more sliders per person to Wendy's to Steak 'n Shake with the stoner waiter ready to sell the "Tak-hom-a-sak" sign and the plates and forks (but not the knives) to Denny's with groups of up to but not exceeding 50 to Chuck's Diner and of course to the great Best Steak and Gyro ("goddamn Arabs always stickin their dicks in the mayonnaise" (no offense, honest to god quote from some guy in line) and "ain't no cheeeeeeese on my goddamn samich" (same guy) and "my name ain't mother fucker, my name's Ray" (big African-American cook dealing with same guy in line)). I mean, at 3 in the friggin morning when you're blitzed off your rocker, it's hard to really make it succinctly to any destination, especially when you're amidst a great deabte over the better drunk food. Oh the memories, like little Kodak developed pictures ensured of having the best quality and color balance due to their stringent processing techiques, all shuffled away in little laquered boxes in my mind. Alas, I only have fice more weeks left in this rat hole off a city and then it's off to the hometown to pack and ship and prep for the flight to Glasgow which is in six weeks. No, what I crave now is a whiskey to ease my mind of my best friend who seemingly cares little for me or my departure seeing as I've yet to hear from them in two months. But I will leave just the same. Friendships that are only kept alive by one side are never worth the effort, it's a two way street as they say, I've just been walking all of mine alone. But that's for another boy's blog, this man has other things to be busied with, more important things to worry about than those people that only worry about themselves. Let that be a lesson, some of us are only steadfast, so long as we have something to be steadfast for. All the rest is sand.