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stole this from katie... [Jun. 24th, 2006|05:19 pm]
First record I ever bought? Snoop Dogg - Doggystyle (casette from Flipside)

First gig? Smashing Pumpkins - Melancholy Tour (Rosemont Horizon)

Best gig? Morrissey (3-16-06)

Gig I wish I’d been at? Phish - Big Cypress (12/31/99)

CD in my player at the moment? Garcia & Grisman - Been All Around This World

A record that makes me laugh? Animal Collective - Sung Tongs

A record that makes me cry? Bradley Nowell (and friends) - Acoustic

A record that sounds better in the dark? Sigur Ros - Ageatis Byrun

A record to play in that mood? Scratch Perry - Blackboard Dub

A song I wish I had written? Smiths - Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now

A record I’d like played at my funeral? Godspeed You Black Emporer's entire discography

Soundtrack for a long car journey? The Dead > Old & In The Way > P. Elverum acoustic

Song you enjoy most singing along to? Smiths - Unloveable
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a safe trip [Jun. 12th, 2006|09:53 am]
hi, how are you?

i am in chicagolake.

a giant, lean dog- traditionally used for a degrading entertainment who goes by gambling- deposited me downtown this morn, last. it was 6 am, it was raining, and i was anxious to tell my friends of my journeys in asheville and thereabout.

pete sat and half-played guitar while i redecorated his living room, drank 5 cups of tea, did my yoga, and then began rapping to april anent my frustration with chandler and his snoozing. at noon i left -- had to make more of the day. which brings me to my first point:

i am so fucking sober...

david sedaris believes that smoking cigarettes was an activity created FOR him. prior to puffing, he would lick lightswitches, count everyone of his steps, and exhibit various other OCD/ADD behavoirs. then he found salvation in nicotine -- the pacing of smoking, the tension and the release, the cool-down... he fucking loved smoking.

i believe that smoking weed is an activity created FOR me. as all of you know -- i have basically been stoned for the past 4 years of my life. now i am not stoned... and i have been extremely efficient and anal. i am mister OCD, and i am too broke to buy weed!

i feel my restless imagination and desire to walk 15 miles a day may soon kill me. if fact, i am more concerned that someone will shoot me with a medium-calibre bullet, jealous. i am trying not to preach, but i have had the past 3 weeks to ponder life and death and the pleasantries therein.

i dont want to make labels for my philosphies or thematic essays, but i do want people to read them and contemplate things -- like their relation to friends, family, the sun, the moon...

i will be in chicagolake for sometime now. i have a few more trips planned, then i will be touring for 2 months before this year decides to end. i have 2 books written, which will be released next spring (graveface press material). bradley and i are about to become infamous. jamie and i are about to become.

i feel like an esoteric piece of shit. goodnight...
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(no subject) [May. 24th, 2006|01:00 am]
hi, how are you?

i am doing very well here in asheville.

rachael, liz, chandler and i drove here monday and have been spending our time wisely - pacing the insanity that boundless nature, women and their hidden fruits within, and delicious freedom can bring.

waterfalls, decapitated snake, breakfast, sex, naps in the sun, apples to apples, ultima online, magic the gathering, marijuana, acid, dharma bummin' around...

i have a prior engagement for this fall, but until then i shall retain this radiance and lay low -- me no like no niceguy (cop)!

i quit candy
i am quitting buddha after a gram or two which will fuel a closing ceremony
i quit stealing (even from corporations from whom i was truley just taking things from, as to steal something is to covet it - and to take something is to "borrow it" and make better use of it by creating life or art or both...)

i will be living in pisgah national forest this coming week

then i will be living in richmond hills as they have began breaking ground to build this monsterous machine that will eat up many trees. i shall protest and make casettes with my field recording gear, my mandolin, and my hammock...

i need to sell some poems tomorrow so i have money to eat. i have about $twenty to my name -- and i have no busfare or ride from here to anywhere -- needless to say... i am ecstatic! free from some social toils and civil duties and daily upkeep of posessions, routine!

i fear i may end up in jail sometime soon - but im working on a plan for that consequence... should it arise.
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yar har har... [May. 15th, 2006|03:20 pm]
hello --

i am en cabo san lucas - just smoked a blunt on our deck which overlooks the sea of cortez and her orchestral pouting, relentless. it rains but 7 days annually, there are gorgeous birds and beautiful flowers abound, the food rules, the girls are decadent and sensual with their flamedancing... who else --

my whole family is here and we have an amazing suite which is a mile from downtown cabo. this is the place where you walk around and turn down offers of cocaine, mota, ladies, and other substances to waste your money on, only to fully agree with your intoxicated mind when he groans "maan... it was worth it!"

mi hermano and i went for a walk the first night in town, and twently minutes later we were recieving a handful of marijuana for 200 pesos (20 american bones). it is a very still stoned - and i hear pancho villa breathing against my breast everynight i stay awake talking to the mooon...

all sounds pretty decent, right?

now the lame aspects of now --

prior to leaving chicago i had a little happening at my apartment. initially i wanted to have a reading and enjoy the company of good people over wine and weed and ginsberg, but that didnt looke promising at 10:00 - as no one had showed up except for pete and chandler. we figure everyone is bummed about the weather and wont come out. at 10:30 or so a few folks showed up which is a nice surprise. then a few more, then a few more that were invited by the first gang of few more... all is well - people are having a good time, laughing, drinking, recalling humorous events of the past, all is fine... then the devilmancloud comes into town.

suddenly i am in this fucked up mood. i feel like locking my door and sitting in the dark with a joint and the tao te ching and that picture of the asian girl laying nude on the kitty pool/raft, and listening to the smiths. i feel like i am leaving to go back to albuquerque (as i was going to catch the el to ohare at 4am), and i just want to transcend the social happenings for a while; clear the brainmachine; pack my clothes; maybe sleep a halr hour...

so i do these things.

i am first awoken by kati who is the sweetest girl in chicago. she tells me how appreciative she is for inviting her over and such. we talk about the next few weeks of our lives and then she is on her marry way to leave with brendan and i am on my merry way towards slumber.


so then i wake up to the sound of my landlord saying "Do you live Here?!? No?!? GET OUT!"

she kicks everyone out. i am kicked out of the apartment, and we can no longer have shows or any happenings at the graveface headquarters. reason?

justin taylor broke a window after yelling at the hipsters that live below us. this selfish act brought the cops sirening and now i can no longer enjoy the greatest apartment in he city of chicago. plusi need to some how get the money from justin to pay for it - phones aint be working down here in mexico.

all is well though, no worries...

i feel as though there is some other really scary aspect to my life right now --
perhaps another bowl will refresh the noggin...
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the what knots... [May. 8th, 2006|08:10 am]
saturday was the trial-show at our apartment (the mary cogswell preservation society)

freezerghost played, then st. jude played, then dreamend played until the pa caught fire, then we drank oldstyle and read poems and hugged and laughed and such... i havent slept since getting here from asheville - but i am gonna catch a powernap in a minute here -- i'm in CL and did some crazy shit last night, but i attribute the involuntary walking out into the woods to my lackofsleep. back to the show:

it was a success - everyone had a good time, it was an all ages and free show, there were costumes and candy and decorations and paintings and all... our friend nick from detroit really liked kenny and dan's musics (as did i) and that is what cheap indie-rock shows are for: some people may not dig the music, or just want to fight or fuck, but there is always a good connection or two made.

my only complaint with the show was the keg. ryan got it without telling me and i know folks there enjoyed it, but he got it out of social preasure -- he didnt want there to be people standing around bored, thinking that our venu was lame... but i would rather have someone be like "Fuck! i dont know anyone here and i dont like cheap interesting art and music... ima leave and go get drunk," as opposed to "Fuck! i dont know anyone here and i dont like cheap interesting art and music, BUT there is a fucking keg here and i will just grab a cup from the garbage and then start yelling at someone for doing something..."

all in all: beer is dumb, wine is cool. art is dumb, music is ok. friends are allright.

we are hopefully hosting the octopus project here on the 23rd, ill keep ya'll posted...
oh wait! no one really cares. you want proof:
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Hi, How Are You? [May. 3rd, 2006|11:07 am]
hello --

i have been in asheville for a few days now and let me tell you...

rachael and liz and tom are the ultimate hosts -- we have been drinking red wine, making paper mache things, smoking weed, playing apples to apples and the dr. laura game, fucking, eating mushrooms, playing in the woods, protesting, seeing puppet shows, eating incredibly delicious sandwiches and coffee, reading and writing poetry... what else...

while i was tripping through the ancient starry dynamos unfelt by squares, liz unleashed this unreal place on me -- bad dargan and i will be living there for a few weeks - playing musics, eating psychadelics, and admiring one another. this place is a huge forest preserve with a) a frisbee golf course in the thick of the woods b) poisonous butch lesbos and dykes c) railroad tracks next to a river next to an abandoned insane asylum. we stayed there until i started coming down and liz was worn out from baby sitting me - then we went to the car and i ate more mushrooms. here is the best part -- next october, the city is going to bulldoze this paradise and build... an armory! i think brad and i shall stay there and live in a tent and play protest songs for the folks that are in the know -- we will promote the showtimes and address and what not - then we will fucking play acoustic folk-fuck songs. it shall be totally radical, and we will probably get some coverage from the fifty local activist newsletters. who knows -- maybe some other musicians will join us - liz can sing alright and rachael played piano for ten years, cello for six, and she has a dope accordian she got for a penny. oh yea - she is fucking hot too...

i saw this sweet dude with no shirt on mowing his lawn -- he was brian's (liz's boyfriend) neighbor, he lives at home with his mom, and he is the typical toothless southern mr. nonsense. aparently he has a brother who is an alcoholic and a father in prison -- his name is danny.

what else... we saw bread and puppet -- the oldest independant touring puppet show. they are a group from glover, vermont - and i was honestly fucking blown away. first things first - they tour the country and sell cheap art and bread (this is how they get money to fuel their bus and to eat). in total, there were about 10 or 12 young men and women touring right now (all about 20 - 25 years old). they get into town, set up an oven, start cooking bread, and then do an hour long puppet show. the show was HEAVY!

first they did a silly opening with a marching band and goofy instruments. then they fucking hit us hard -- there were 2 towers, and then this totally creepy puppet that looked like a dead woman slowly walked out pushing a creeking baby stroller. she had a nametag - Truth; the baby stroller said "Population." she walked the cart into the towers, then started screaming as all the other members ran out with loud ass pots and pans... then two tears started to drip from the towers. then they went into a half hour take on how the government comprimises the truth and then scares folks with it, until they later pick a reason to go to war from the clouds (only to later brush it under a rug)... i cant even remember some of the stuff -- but it was free, it was satirical, and we talked to them afterwards -- liz and rachael are starting a puppet club at UNCA (that is why we have been paper mache-ing!)

what else... i met some gals that dig poetry and then we went to this spray painted alley and a hole-in-the-wall called The Writers Block. it is just an apartment that has a stage and a projector and a kitchen and a bunch of artists hanging out. a jamaican dude named Ras played some songs, then i smoked weed with him. then a dj started spinning while a vj started projecting awesome visuals -- all the girls there were doing crazy aura dances through the dancefloor - pretty sexy shit. after the dancing came the words. we read for about a half hour. the best poet was this girl named rebecca - she asked for some themes, then just improvised a ten minute piece. oh yeah - there was free soup and bread there too.

speaking of soup and bread - maybe i have been too stoned, but all of the food in asheville is so delicious. the coffe shops, the greenlife markets, the downtown vendors, the mexican food... speaking of mexicans -- perhaps some of you saw the first annual "May 1st March for Immigrants" on monday. here in asheville, i strapped on my mandolin and walked with about 4,000 people yelling things like "Si Se Puedes! (Yes we Can!)" and singing folk songs that liz and i arranged before going there (this land is our land, i aint got no home in this place anymore, and an original about migrant farmers -- liz's boyfriend is a latin studies major and really cares about the farmers and their rights. he just finished college on monday and is now going to costa rica to start a job that even i would consider having! he will be giving tours of volcanoes a few days a week - with the rest of his time he is housed and recieves money for food and he can leave and come back to the states at any point... oh - they are paying for his airfare both ways too!) so the protest was unreal -- there were some great points made by the speakers and musicians, such as this loosely paraphrased piece of perspective: Immigrants have always been a problem here in the US -- ask any native american!

ok, i have a headache and i need to kiss rachael's earlobe now... i come home tomorow and don't worry -- li po made the trip and is doing well - he ate a cricket after three fucking days of controlled starvation.

i know i am forgetting like a day or two of eventful stuff, but that is what drogas do to the brainmachine...


we saw a fre
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days i have lived at my new place: 2 --------------------- douchebags i have met on milwaukee: 2 [Apr. 22nd, 2006|05:25 pm]
so yesterday i am informed that a note has been placed on my parent's minivan, parked out on milwaukee. an avid appreciator of found prose, i decide to take a gander for some entertainment.

here is what the note said:

Hey Asshole, Can't you read?
You are blocking my garage.

here is what it should have said:

Hey Man, Can't you read? If not i will stop writing this note...
Your front bumper is obstructing 3% of the right side of the entrance to my apartment building's garage.
You're an asshole, and i am taking the time it took to fathom this shallow, immature message to anonymously let it be known...
oh, and if you can't sleep tonight because of your absentmindedness -- i got the car in (obviously)

so i wrote a nice message back to him, more brief than this one i posted. today, i recieve another message on my door. this one is from the Po-Lice -- SOMEONE called and reported the fact that i was making access difficult.

so im taking the 75 bucks left in my "faith in humanity" jar to pay the ticket...

people are fucking idiots most of the time.
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(no subject) [Apr. 21st, 2006|02:36 pm]
so i moved into my new place. it is the graveface headquarters, plus a word-o-mouth venue/art space -- it overlooks the western blueline stop. it has a deck, three bedrooms, a perfect arrangement for bands to play, and is close to such 24-hour establishments as Lazo's, Arturo's, and some joint called MacDonalds. unbelievable...

so yesterday i am moving my shit from a minivan up to our place. i pull in front of the building and park on milwaukee (plenty of space, plenty of open parking places...). as i am opening the door, i hear "Look!" -- keep in mind this is yesterday, the potsmokers holiday and a steaming hot summer day - i have no shirt on and i am fucking ripped.

so after a few seconds, this big black dude approaches me as i am getting out of my car. he is a lame bikerat who has no other place to go so he drinks pbr with some douchebags, prior to riding down chicago ave. cussing and demolishing cars (because cars are an inferior technology to bikes, and a person on a bike with no handbrakes is the ultimate existance... one bike, one man... derek - ex guitarist of dreamend - was part of this subculture and it is fucking BOGUS.

so this guy is walking towards me, sweat dripping and veins popping as he gets more and more aggressive.

him: Look! You Motherfucker, that shit will cost me my LIFE!

me: uhhhh... look?

him: YEA! Look through the window or use your mirror to make sure no bikers are coming you asshole!

me: oh, uh... ok man. i just didnt know that was the procedure... from now on i'll...

him (as he gets closer and takes out a u-bar bikelock): LISTEN!

me: ok...

him: If you dont use this mirror, im GOnna FUCKING TAKE IT WITH ME!!!!

me: uh... alright...


me: ok man... from now on i know...

at this point he realized i wasnt afraid of him, and slowly cooled his jets in order to make an exit that didnt make him look like a tool to the row of onlookers waiting in traffic. the whole time his fuckbuddy was on a bike watching -- he wasnt exactly laughing at his friends absurd behavoir, but he didnt step in to be like "hey man... lets go."

my message to ll-cool-j-legged, chain-around-the-neck critical massholes, who feel bikes are better then walking: Get a motorcycle, pussy... join some real movement and slow down, jerk.

i have seen dipshit indie-bicyclists who arent messengers crash right into grown men who are walking with their kids or wife along the lakefront path. i appreciate the attempt at finding a niche to unfurl your soul, but seriously -- a faux-punkrock attitude + some european racing bike + alcohol + senseless destruction has never amounted to much worth mentioning.
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Bad Art Is Better Than No Art: [Apr. 12th, 2006|11:07 am]
1 Sided Cassette:

I Hate NY (CPU! & GP Intro)->
Fingernail, Toenail, Penisnail ->
Moldavia ->
Linguistic Lahar->
Mother Lovers->
Bald Eagle ->
Kirby ->
I'm Not Having It ->
All My Wisdom Summoned ->
My Country Is Lapping 7-up From A Plastic Vomit Vessel ->
Ohio Street Beach, February (CPU! & GP Outro) ->
10 minutes of noisynonsense that i didnt really listen to while recording...

i have about 25 of these suckers on casette and for those who are less interested but still make eye contact, i have business cards with my name and contact info on em. promotion, or propaganda in motion, really -- propamotion.

regardless - ill be pushing these and yelling like a lunatic inside the
Harrison redline stop from 3-7 tonight.
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