HO, SWEET HO!

Banner up again, friends. We've come to close another year.

And has it ever been a strange one.

But since it's late and you've all heard most (if not all) of the stories already, let's just cut it straight.

This year's mix is a two-parter. She works separately and as a two and a half hour whole. There are high points. There's some screaming. Some sadness and, somehow, some fun.

Titles, links (to Mediafire downloadable zip files) and tracklistings are below.

Questions/Issues/Comments...you know where to find me.

For the time being, feel the love.


Rudolph's Red Run
http://www.mediafire.com/?hx2ctt2x3stixc4

Jack Rose - White Mule II...America's flawed. She's fucked, in fact. But Goddamn is she still beautiful.

Curtis Mayfield - Pusherman...Providing the pimp to your stroll.

Liars - Scarecrows on a Killer Slant...I don't actually like this band. They suffer like fuck from an air of bored arrogance that makes me want to skin my teeth but there's something sinister about this warbled freakout that speaks to me. Perhaps it's the "AND THEN KILL 'EM ALL" shout. Perhaps it's time to get out of the house.

Faust - Chrome...Let's not pretend we actually listen to Faust. I mean, some folks must but they're just as likely to suffer the eternal debate between later early Neu! and later Can so they don't count for much. Was that rude? This song thuds.

Twin Sister - Lady Daydream...Remember 4AD? Remember how, for a time, everything they put out was beautiful and weird and smart and moody? Twin Sister do. They also give their records away for free.

Mystery of Two - Repeat It...Now the rock song. I think they're from Ohio which, for some reason, makes me very happy. Fuckentucky.

Mule - We Know You're Drunk...True grit and howl from a pack of savage recluses. Taste the sweat. Embrace the shame.

The Dicks - Hate the Police...Gary Floyd was a fat, openly gay man fronting a hardcore band in the 80s. In TEXAS! They've been covered by Mudhoney and the Jesus Lizard. Badaaasssssss.

Big Black - Cables (live)...Christmas isn't Christmas without Steve Albini.

JR Ewing - Pre Summertime Blues...I haven't shrieked nearly enough this year.

Kanye West - Runaway...Yeah, I don't know either.

Mimas - La Moustache...The best song on the second best album of the year. Last time Danny and Aimee were in town I made them sit, drunk, and listen to whole damn thing while I tried to sing along in broken English. I think they liked it. You should too.

Albatross - Surf Sisters...Deerhoof induces headaches. The Grates are over the bubble gum hill. Ponytail's dead. Take Albatross instead.

Pygmy Lush - Butch's Dream...Rambling half-folk from the less addled arm of Pg. 99. I fear you may have heard this already. I'm just remembering it again.

Caethua - Sons of Hounds...Sometimes soft, odd and pretty.

Cobra Killer - Mr. Chang...Franco-Germanic off sex dance pop. I like this one a lot. I also have a crush on Reverend Jen.

Bars of Gold - Heaven Has a Heater...Sometimes bands surprise you. Sometimes bands surprise themselves. At the best of times, everyone walks away in awe of what a transcendent thing music can be.

Crocodiles - Mirrors...Everyone wants to be the Jesus and Mary Chain these days. Crocodiles certainly do. However, unlike those pasty British shits it sounds like Crocodiles might actually like you. Crocodiles.



Frosty's Long Coal
http://www.mediafire.com/?q8enl4eq97tb4w6

1994! - Shut Up the Fuck Up...YES! I'm not sure why it took this long to get to the good time freakout but fuck it. This day is done. Our teeth are pretty. Let's forge some light ahead.

Castevet - Narrow Hallways...The best album of the year. Not, perhaps, the most inventive. Not the most profound. This is the one that gets it and this song reflects it well. Music is the matter that makes us.

Melvins - The Water Glass...You got a problem with this, I got a problem with you.

Otis Redding - Try a Little Tenderness (London)...If you listen to this version of this song every day for the rest of your life you will be perfect.

Fang Island - Daisy...WHEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Bark Psychosis - Murder City...AAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!

13th Floor Elevators - You're Gonna Miss Me...Crazy man, crazy. Crazy, man crazy? Oh, Roky. I don't know about you.

Slang Chickens - Parasited Out...Ben found these kids at SXSW. Dirt-caked surf country. Rolls off the speakers like a beer can kitten.

Steelpole Bathtub - The Seventh Hour of the Seventh Day...This is the closest thing to a Christmas song on here. Hear that? Those are bells. You're welcome.

Fucked Up - Black Albino Bones...I spent twenty minutes at a bar with Greg, Jeff and Shaun trying to figure out what the fuck this song was. It's Fucked Up. People LOVE them. They're Canadian. He's fat and there's a chick in the band. Art.

Omar Khorshid - Sidi Mansour...I spend a LOT of late nights sitting alone in front of a computer. One night I was thinking of Link Wray. I ended up listening to this.

Les Savy Fav - Excess Energies...A number of years ago I decided I was sick and tired of Tim Harrington's shit. A few months ago Les Savy Fav put out a fantastic record. I'm still not sure I forgive him.

Chinese Stars - Kill Me with Conversation...Arab on Radar were a band for people to hate themselves. Six Finger Satellite were so good Shellac named a record in their honor. Together (mostly) they're the hella wrong time party.

D.I. - Youth in Asia...Now you know what D.I. sounds like.

This Moment in Black History - MFA...I think this band would kick the ever-living shit out of you and me and Santa Claus if they had to or wanted to or just FUCKIN CUZ!

Future Islands - Long Flight...This band makes my heart hurt.

Candy Skins - Wembley...Everyone loves Pulp. Everyone loves Blur. Everyone loved Suede. BUT NO ONE GIVES TWO FUCKS FOR CANDY SKINS. Sure the record is forgettable (and, unfortunately, named "Fun") but this song is as fantastic as it was when I lived on cassingles.

Okkervil River - Pop Lie...I have a lot of Okkervil River for some reason. I find most of it insufferable. This song is cynical sure, but let's shimmy anyway.

Past Lives - Paralyzer...She always comes out of nowhere but when she does, we're better.

MWAH!

The Ass Has It

Slow in the making these ones. long on the love. drabbest day of the year so far so why the fuck not get it together to share. actual, in the flesh, motherfuckers coming when the day breaks on a cleaner brain.


Cover Your Shame
http://www.megaupload.com/?d=MCFTWEGC

Nomeansno - Forward to Death (Dead Kennedys)...prove proud that a capella is not solely for the creeps, the high school theater dweebs and the precious, assholish.

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - All Tomorrow's Parties (the Velvet Underground)...you've heard it. here it is again. fucking amazing.

Some Girls - Release the Bats (the Birthday Party)...is this sequence cheating? nick cave is nick cave is nick cave? fuck it. a one armed man and four talented maniacs laying waste to the australians.

The Blood Brothers - Under Pressure (Queen)...in my scatterbrained, screaming opinion one of the most inspired and glorious covers ever set to wax. WAA-WAAAA-WAAAAAAAAA-WWAAAAAUUUGGGHHHHH!!!!!

Crooked Fingers - When U Were Mine (Prince)...who knew the lavender kid's sexual reflections could have such a mournful tone. beautiful.

Butthole Surfers - Hurdy Gurdy Man (Donovan)...i still find this song kinda terrifying.

Coalesce - Whole Lotta Love (Led Zeppelin)...i didn't give two shits for led zeppelin until i heard coalesce's monstrous homage 'there is nothing new under the sun'. now i hate robert plant.

Shellac - '95 Jailbreak (AC/DC)...what doesn't steve albini make better? arguably todd trainer is the real rescue on this one with his blousy propulsions but that squeal would've made bon smile, all right. FREEDOM!

Song of Zarathustra - Tame (Pixies)...like every good white collegiate i took in way too much pixies way too early on and now i sing them unintentionally. never want to listen to them. soz always makes me reconsider. also, the guitar player from the hold steady is in this band which is pretty fucking rad.

Fudge Tunnel - Lowdown (Wire)...badass.

Mighty Caesars - 1977 (the Clash)...joe strummer at the bottom of a genny cream can. the only band that matters, they say come out of some motherfucking amrep act. rad.

The Afghan Whigs - Mr. Superlove (the Ass Ponys)...no one gives a crap about the ass ponys other than the afghan whigs, it seems which makes perfect sense. they're wimpy and fat. but this version of their track is epic and earnest as they go. don't seek out the original.

Cult of Youth - Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World (Ramones)...my favorite ramones song through a neofolk (a genre most famously populate by a pair of gay nazis) acoustic act. i should hate this but it's actually fucking brilliant.

Slayer - Filler/I Don't Wanna Hear It (Minor Threat)...it's fucking slayer fucking covering two fucking songs by minor threat. what the fuck did you expect?

Superchunk - Girl U Want (Devo)...i could listen to superchunk play the goddamn phonebook. thankfull, i don't have to because they'd rather shred devo.

Naked City - James Bond Theme (John Barry & Orchestra)...best thing ever created by a man named barry. john zorn knew that. that's why this song exists.

Dead Horse - Rock Lobster (the B-52s)...southern fried metal men enjoying one of the most indescribably wonderful songs ever recorded.

Leatherface - Message in a Bottle (the Police)...punk rock joe LOVES this band. i don't. i've tried. fuck them. dude sounds like he needs a halls so bad it makes me want to brush my lungs. but everyone likes this police song. so there.

Rocket from the Crypt - This Way Out (Wall of Voodoo)...i never once thought wall of voodoo was tough. clearly, i was wrong.

Cosmic Psychos - Some Girls (Racey?)...who the fuck is racey? evidently barry manilow covered this song as well. fuck him. this song rules.

Willie Nelson - Time After Time (Cyndi Lauper)...this is a beautiful song that only gets better with that frail pigtailed farmboy making it his own.

Jack Norton - Naked in the Afternoon (Jandek)...jandek songs are distant and horrifying. he is a thin, ragged man living in texas under an overwhelming cloud of obscurity. his ouevre is all but unlistenable but it lends to a loving tunefulness. once more, the original is not recommended unless you hate yourself.

Guitar Wolf - Summertime Blues (Eddie Cochran)...ENGRISH SUPERFIRE AWESOME ROCK POWER FOREVER!

Los Campesinos! - Frontwards (Pavement)...pavement are the shitty beatles. done and done. too smart for their own fucking good. boring as sin live but hot damn could they form an accidental hook time and time again.


Shame You're Covered
http://www.megaupload.com/?d=H7ZGI0Y1

Harvey Milk - We Destroy the Family (Fear)...who knew you needed more fear in your life, right? i know. i know. i was surprised too but now i have to go punch strangers on the subway.

The Jesus Lizard - Wheelchair Epidemic (the Dicks)...if only every song were performed by david yow.

Crime - Hot Wire My Heart (Sonic Youth)...grumpy san frannies pissing all on new york trash art education. this whole damn song sounds like it's about to fall apart. makes sense when you're playing junkie.

D.I. - Ballroom Blitz (Sweet)...you know, like tia carrera did in wayne's world but, because this is a punk band in the 80s there's a reagan reference thrown in. why not? dig the air drumming.

The Walkmen - Tonight Will Be Fine (Leonard Cohen)...the best goddamn thing about new york playing you're man. i don't know much leonard cohen. that's a sin.

Archers of Loaf - Funnelhead (Treepeople)...did you know that the jerkoff guitar god of built to spill was in another band before everyone started pretending they loved eight minute jams? well, he was. this is one of their songs by carolina's finest sons.

The Geraldine Fibbers - Yoo Doo Right (Can)...who the FUCK covers a can song?

The Horrors - Jack the Ripper (Gruesomes)...moody english kids gnarling brooding english atrocities. love it or lose a kidney.

Brutal Truth - Zodiac (Melvins)...you can see the geraldine fibbers track for audacity but the grind'we'remorethanametalband'core stalwarts do decent damage to this buried melvins track.

L7 - Bloodstains (Agent Orange)...the longer the academy's closed the more i think l7 weren't really all that great. but they were loud and i was terrified and this is the only agent orange song i know. so, yeah.

Black Flag - Louie, Louie (the Kingsmen)...i heard recently that the kingsmen finally settled their obscenity case and reaped a good fifty years of royalties off this track. good for fucking them. and good on black flag for having brief glimpses of party in their otherwise dead eyed strains.

Big Black - He's a Whore (Cheap Trick)...the last song on the last big black record (cd, actually). kinda like an astro pop at the end of a dustbroom gangbang. tasty as hell but...oh...so...cold.

Sonic Youth - Touch Me, I'm Sick (Mudhoney)...i think every band should cover this, at least once. also, it's nice to hear sonic youth play in average tuning. i think. fucking lee renaldo.

Flying Saucer Attack - The Drowners (Suede)...before they added london to their name they were off prancing pretty bisexuality. i was hooked. then i sucked i dick. now i'm straight. good song though. this version's all noise.

Das Oath - Why Don't You Get a Job (The Offspring)...no shit.

Entombed - Scottish Hell (Dead Horse)...satan kissed my dog. metal.

Birdland - Rock and Roll Nigger (Patti Smith)...for john burger. i really enjoy mouthing this song on that ass machine all the skinny bitches use at the gym. one day, that will get my ass handed to me. at least, it'll look good.

The Get Up Kids - Burned Bridges (Coalesce)...for melissa. this is an interpretation of a coalesce song called 'harvest of maturity'. less balls. more noodling. talented fuckers these bands. it's really nice to finally hear what sean ingram was vomiting even if it is a little fey.

The Wedding Present - Red Shoes by the Drugstore (Tom Waits)...the most adult track on this goddamn list. i like it. i wish there were a broke teen dancing for my amusement.

Megadeth - I Ain't Superstitious (Howlin' Wolf)...when i was a kid this was one of my favorite megadeth songs. now, i have none.

The Muffs - Rock and Roll Girl (the Beat)...kim shattuck makes everything better.

Screeching Weasel - Runaway (Del Shannon)...remember that cop show dennis farina was in way the fuck back when? that show was awesome.

Face to Face - Bikeage (the Descendants)...i've kissed girls who have never heard the descendants. i have made mistakes. best. punk. song. ever.

Pussy Galore - Damaged II (Black Flag)...you have no idea how rad i feel for having remembered, sought and found this fucking sub pop single. not the real one. i have beer to buy. but shit...pussy galore. you've given me so much in my time on this earth. godspeed you and your hate fuck.

Motorhead featuring Wendy O. Williams - Stand by Your Man (Tammy Wynette)...fuck elton john and kiki dee. this is a duet for the ages.

Thrones - A Quick One (the Who)...one man and an eight track turn an epic on two minutes. i miss the third act of the original but the whoooos in this are fucking fantastic.

Babes in Toyland - Watching Girl (Shonen Knife)...fun. fun. fun. kat bjelland has it for once in her fucking life. i wonder how she's doing now. not really. i never liked this band. i wanted to because the mean girls in high school did, but really. grrrrls never did it for me. but playing lovely little japanese...well, that changes everything.

Rock it.

Merry Motherfucker

It's hard to say it wasn't all bad, but it wasn't. there was love. great love. written in history before man and god and those, adored meddling somewhere in between. there was hope painted on the lips of every young american as a revolutionary cry after a time of, perhaps, our darkest cultural relevance. there was still beauty in our auburn nights. there were kisses. there were kicks. there were drop dead dog fights for reason and being that made us richer for the stumbling nuances of victory.

But goddamn if there weren't some glorious defeats. some hearts spent reeling. wishes returned in tatters. goldberg disasters croaking 'if only' on the dusty shores of california.

Fuck.

But this is a new chance. a new role. a golden store for the bastard moments of yesterday.

And this just might be a soundtrack, if we're lucky. there's not much screaming. there's not much melee. there's just some songs, in loving order. for you. from me with every crack of my best intentions.

(megaupload link is below)

ENJOY!

Merry Motherfucker

1. Action Patrol - Tube...it's too early, today to smash the state and most of us are too long in the tooth but that doesn't mean there isn't some spite in us left to grab a brick from the cairn and start an earthquake.

2. Braid - Killing a Camera...westley was right. sometimes, i am every ounce my father's son.

3. Japandroids - Wet Hair...fucking high fives for everybody.

4. Abe Vigoda - House...this is the sound of kids trying to sound like the kids they weren't cool enough to smoke dope with.

5. Ida Maria - Oh my God...every good time needs a rasping pop sensation. sean taught me about this one. this song got me a hairy eyeball in vegas because it's better suited for a gym than any aged decadence. i fucking love it.

6. Los Campesinos! - We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed...the last time i saw new york dance with dumb abandon. the last time i kissed frantically, sweaty, hopeful at a gig. the last time i couldn't fucking stop smiling for a fucking hour and a half was at the valentine's day los campesinos! gig. it took william t. vollman to teach me what their name means. i am a geek.

7. Oceans - Boy Detective...just believe me, starry eyes. the world is wide and beautiful. your chance is endless.

8. La Dispute - Only Everything Below...but sometimes it still comes crashing down. let it. let the fire sink his teeth into all the monuments you keep. you'll find grace in the phoenix, yet.

9. Future of the Left - Arming Eritrea...you'll find anger. you'll find rage. real and human as the day you tore free from the womb and roared with new purpose.

10. Castevet - Plays One on TV...perhaps my favorite song of last year. i still haven't figured out what the fuck the words are but that can't stop me from singing.

11. Pere Ubu - Non-Alignment Pact...does anyone who isn't a dj actually like this band? fuck dub housing. this song is a party for the last of those glory days you totally missed.

12. Obits - Fake Kinkade...rock and roll is forever bettered by the pinched nerve of rick froeberg.

13. Surfer Blood - Swim...stumbled on this the night before i turned 31. the next day was spent in cold sweats, vomit and wonder at what the fuck happened to my copy of 'here come the warm jets'.

14. Timber - Thorn City...this is a fuckin' UHN! song. not a forceful one. no gut punches. no falling down the stairs. just a whole lot of meaning it scratched into a seven inch once complete with a singalong about taking time off.

15. Mimas - Mac, Get Your Gear...music for adults with questionable english that transforms completely into a mile wide shout. smiles abound, man. horns. clean as a whistle and a thousand times resounding.

16. Locust Toybox - Public Enemy's Rebel w/o a Pause (remix)...someone should probably kick my ass for including this neutering of chuck d. but shit, it's pretty. kinda fun, even. sometimes, it's all right to nap in a hammock while the revolution is being televised.

17. The Mae Shi - The Melody...this song is a nerd alert if ever there was one. bleeps. tweedles. shrill and warbles. judeochristian references. it's what i would compose if my blood were made of red wires and guided by ms dos.

18. Lanterns - Midnight Psalms (Alright!)...if my life sounded like this, i could die just fine.

19. Cold Cave - Life Magazine...fuck the cold wave movement. ian curtis is dead and ferris bueller only listened to cabaret voltaire to impress cameron. this song was just in a radio shack commercial which is rad for a sullen band whose driving force only has one hand.

20. The Beatings - Youth Crimes...perhaps the best band you've never heard of and will probably give two shits about after this (ever the optimist, me) but the beatings are perhaps the last band to play the kind of music that had you glued to college radio when you were in high school.

21. Pissed Jeans - False Jesii Part 2...GodDAMN! do i miss amphetamine reptile records. it took too long for me to catch on but now that midwestern pigfucking dream speaks to me in ways of which i should probably be ashamed. these cats are on sub pop which means shannon selberg can shit their bravado in his sleep but this track is fucking amazing.

22. Danananakroyd - Black Wax...ending on the note that revived my faith this year. simple, young, fun. there's more to life than david lee roth's balloon show, i know but sometimes i just don't feel like thinking about that. i just want to be good and loud and free. i want to be epic. perfect in the light.

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=U6NOSEIP

XOXO

Rock it.

Act on fame

There's a difference between distance and obscurity. a long howling trip. a beat. a blip. a scattering of ash between you and me and the ones we called our lovers back before we were safe and whole in our noise. in our nuances. tics and stutters. dancing in the rain of bats from the attic. from the walls. from the cracks in the corners where we stowed our bones waiting for the right moment.

Stolen, alone.

To shine our regrets. to air all our grievances. to make mountains cower at the men we'd slewn in secret just for fun.

Not as savages. not this time, at least.

As welcome waters for the crickets to come and wash our feet clean of the cobwebs. the shit. the dreams, wrought and webbed and weighed down by all the company that kept us cowardly and free.

The hours, irrelevant. days bleak as machines.

Rusty autumns.

Homes.

That weren't ours. that didn't cede and so we caved accordingly to the idea that we'd arrived somewhere. that we'd been taken in, adored. that every poignant part was now. here. that ambitions laid on different shores unheralded. scheming well beyond our reach.

So we burned our fury. killed the caw to complete the bliss.

Seeming endless.

But tonight, we ring.

Out into the halls.

The privilege. the pain. the indignity of this city ours to claim in every fiber of our rise. up, merciless. against the sun. from hallowed shadows. the burden of security.

Take what is ours in defiance.

In all that could have been.

And make it electric.

Make it epic.

Perfect as sin.

His Most Famous Act.mp3

Forget

3.

My deeds are carried on

the backs of old crows as warm

winters welcome me home.


4.

She sees me today

as a ghost whose hungry arms

could hold her once more.


5.

All of my pages

left under used cigarettes

are yours to believe.

Boy Detective.mp3

Flowers

1.

Beside the bones shape

unwelcome roads in dust foiled

by the western shore.


2.

I was beautiful

once and i would be again

if only you'd known.


First Perennial Fall.mp3

Bring tomorrow

Some thin boy shaking pale fists in the rain. blonde hair stains his face and he's staring at his mother's window. naked. breathing in her bed. a window crack. curtains thin and tatter.

He sees everything.

Bruised fingerprints on her left breast. semen cakes her neck. her lips apart. half drunk. half sleeping. she mutters something at the shadows. a name. a prayer.

It doesn't matter.

In her eyes, yellow. ember. ash. a dead iris shivering by the box fan. ice opens in an empty glass.

He doesn't blame her.

Men stumble through the living room. hard tiptoes shake the floor. trying not to make a sound. leave a mark.

They learn to lock the door.

There's a stain between her legs. spreading blood. sweat. memories for the moment before the morning.

She's in the kitchen choking. her coffee's sweet and cold.

He wants to tell her she's the most beautiful woman in the world. wants to her to believe she is adored. kiss her hard like heroes do before the sunset and ride off to welcome ghosts.

Just love him.

If I Had A Heart.mp3

Next to hope

Maybe if i were younger. if i were bitter. if i wore the tattoos of a criminal and the scars of illicit season. if i were thin and drawn and my words came out in stereo screams, lackluster and pleading for isolation. understanding. unadultered as the light that shines at the heart of the abyss (you'll see, i'd say. you'll count your failures in the end and i'll be laughing again like i did before my dad left [or was my mother bleeding (or was it me the whole time drawing circles in the sand waiting for someone to catch my precious little meaningless, meaningless message and say he's a genius. he's a prophet. he's a monster better left to die unmentioned again except by children huddled by the ghost fires, crying]) because it looks back. we all know that).

If i didn't lead the night past that last good idea telling you all about bruce springsteen who i never liked until the time i saw him once with danny and i wept when he left to get more beer. if i didn't want you to sing along to every guitar. if i didn't want you to love something as desperately as i have. as i do. as i will until the day my unkept fingers are pried from a folded photograph. two lovers stunned. kissing. mugging. howls from under the wonder wheel.

Maybe then you'd listen. maybe you'd give a shit. maybe i'd be the vogue that sneaks bumps to a midget in the back of the bar with a necktie drawn on his t-shirt and a habit grown just to kick and fatten later to a fistful of all the right accolades i'd memorialize in sanskrit on the nape of my neck.

But then i'd be a joke. i'd be a product of the grist that kills our soft young kings.

And i just can't.

I am a man of reckless invention. i am mistakes and i am shame. i am restless nights and chicken legs and i am happy when you ask me. i am. even if i sneer or stutter or slur what i am trying to say. even if it's all fog and delusions. even if it's purple, borrowed, abused. it is earnest. it is true.

And it's imperfect, all right.

It is mine.

Fireworks.mp3

Lot betters

Oh, and how we've fallen the fuck apart lately. stinking. foul and fucking forgetting what it is that fueled the maudlin exit. sorrow. pity. prize and i'm a mess but still presented with the chance to scribble half articulate while they're all sleeping.

So here.

So harried.

So half naked spit glass window on the world. the girls said yes, man. the booze said no. the next step was simple enough but here we are instead of floundering the rite of passage.

Sleep it off, men.

Dream well and soon you won't remember that if you'd only granted yourself the chance you would have done something better than your kids and kin because you wanted new york city and i gave it to you. piece and naked. meals carried.

The cacophony saved for the morning.

The principles dead on the stage.

Impunity Rules By Forty Percent.mp3

Quarter fills silver

I will but whisper into this good evening. cold and distant as the sea. i will touch my skin and wonder what it is i'm doing here. what reasoning is left in mortality when so many better men have left and leaving us with nothing but spit. stained knuckles. crooked necks still tracing the ceiling.

I will drink myself past the merriment of our shared disasters into the beauty of unconscionable sleep where i see us paper pulsed to time the seventeen year sin again only in this play we erase the name together. we burn the likeness like a sun just long enough to illuminate the stars. to offer life. to proffer insignificance to the unfaithful.

He would be proud.

He might even cry were he given the chance before he was written into some other story. some other night.

Red coat down in the rain, chasing the steps down st. mark's place. where so many once like us. once like each other. tired and terrified of who might one day be left to remember their empire of gorgeous and ignoble suffering. shouted into storefronts that the would not be ignored. bought and sold. slaves to the great green machine called american endless and anything, anywhere always. forever. amen.

But he wouldn't.

He'd just say...

Well, he wouldn't say anything.

Mistaken For Strangers.mp3

Nothing there

And maybe i am looking for a fight now. maybe this whole day after day after fucking day of choking back the panic come from being alive in a city where acquaintances are less reliable than abscesses that don't pain you so much as keep you constantly aware that they're just there aren't they? just existing. just spitting puss and waiting for the white hot hour you lose your shit and tear them out with whiskey antiseptic and a glaring disregard for the long, aching days ahead.

But that could just be more posturing.

Sure i could use a slug. a knock. a head kicked in.

But that won't accomplish anything.

Though i am born (at times) of a set that believes nothing ever resonates quite so deeply in the heart of a man as a punch to the face some people just don't know how to listen.

They're safety net's too grim.

So what then?

Just let their judy time and understand, somewhere in your warm and gnashing heart that their only cup is cracked and spilling blood all over their panty waists.

So one day, it will be empty.

And the cowardly city won't cry.

Freak Out.mp3

Won't hurry chimneys

Looks like my nails are rusty again, now babeez, so you'll forgive me if the sentiment doesn't run quite as dry as we'd like when you consider the cat's been crying this long and it doesn't look like he'll abate until he matches weights with charles atlas (the rockefeller way).

Still shit, it is. and the horrorshow's still a creep we couldn't escape unless we gave up on this whole blue age and then what the hell would we have to inform the curious space between olive stories?

There's fucking, i guess. but good men rarely prosper and better women would rather be sleeping than hear another one about the time under the table at friendly's. spilling coffee and trying to imagine what it would be like one day on the highway.

So, really, the meat pie's as lovely if not better than ever. the tree's all night. and the warmth of tired eyes reminds us all that everything, in spite of the fire, is going to be just fine.

It's fucking christmas time.

a Swipe at Snow Angels



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Los Campesinos! - Broken Hearts Sound Like Breakbeats...and so they're dancing, if for a time.

Neutral Milk Hotel - Ghost...drunk on holy water and the mysteries of being the boy trapped in an attic with a shadow of her dangling the window frame between.

Coalesce - Out on the Tiles...borrowed. stolen. whatever history feels more compelled to repeat in the nefarious room where it kicks the machine as long as it takes to get the rites.

Deerhoof - Dummy Discards a Heart...written on a wing and gone again without direction. she sings them anyway.

the Hold Steady - Constructive...like the psalms when he was young and in love with the hope of great white walls and his father's favorite t-shirt.

Titus Andronicus - Fear and Loathing in Mahwah, NJ...it's not that she cared. not in the usual sense of loving that gets confused with crooked fingerprints. she just didn't know how to share.

Have a Nice Life - the Big Gloom...and so he was released. one of them had to be. and he'd grown wide enough for the hours to consume him.

DC Snipers - All Humans Are Garbage...she giggled. he noticed. his legs were weak and his arms still too small to take it all.

the Cramps - New Kind of Kick...his mouth stayed open and pressed to the glass. she could've granted him anything.

Rocket from the Crypt - Boychucker...the rumbling just wouldn't end.

the Heroine Sheiks - Cock Asia...pangs from the basement. frustration at the fucking hundred left to get right before grazing a stitch.

Archers of Loaf - Vocal Shrapnel..."it doesn't matter what he remembers. only that he was there."

the Blood Brothers - Huge Gold AK-47s..."i only care that someone will before they've taken everything."

Pussy Galore - Alright..."SOMEONE MUST GIVE A SHIT!"

the Soft Boys - I Wanna Destroy You...she would've too. dropped the act and let him have it all but she was made for different bones.

the Grates - Silence is Golden...he would've gone mad. gladly. fingers on the mean that makes us perfect by the image.

Hot Snakes - Reflex...Red-faced and bowed. a temple full of tracks and spires.

Failures - Fill In..."but then where would i be?"

Superchunk - Basement Life...the street was spitting puppeteers. their strings arch feathers in the moonlight.

Blank Dogs - RCD Song...the children wouldn't know they'd gone missing until morning, at least. wouldn't even consider the ending.

Ghostlimb - the Force that Gives Us Meaning...she would. she would. she would. tatter her soft elbows. bleed. sate the both of them with the bats of her eyes.

By the End of Tonight - Philthy Collins....smoke pouring through the crease without even so much as a whimper.

the Party of Helicopters - Science Reasons...light cracked and tore them in two.

Mitzi Dodge - Xmas 3...the children slept.

Dropkick generation

This started a lot for me.

Too much, maybe.

Sluts in the City.mp3

XOXO

Once drunk, I stole her

panties. blue silk and lace. pure

teen pornography.


Lying underneath

the sink, stained. i took them home.

came all over them.


For a year. i burned

them in an old tin with love

letters from young girls.

XO Skeletons.mp3

Hide the fields

I know why carl hates god.

I do.

I've heard his barbacked arguments. his inappropriate workaday pose. his banter. his existential folds. his sermon on the mount of human frailty at the end of the world rubbing his hands greedily waiting for just the right moment to shout loud as his red breast has ever beat I FUCKING KNEW IT!

But i don't agree.

This isn't news, i'm sure, to most of the rebels who've roused me for so simple an angle as saying there might just be something there more elucidated than a fucking human being and he or she (there was the long running dream that in death there was nothing but a fat black woman whose name escaped me even then who would cradle the newly ended into her epic bosom and let them know that when all things end beauty can begin in it's deepest and most inspired ways before buddha whispers something about it being time again and i still might if i ever really afforded myself the chance to consider the divine beyond the wicked alias of upbringing. catholic guilt and roman rest. shame sprials through the sects that keep me - to this very day - wishing it wouldn't be such a goddamn social sin to claw a piece of my flesh for penance before the one i've wronged and in so doing make each error seem a gift to the powerless. alms, if you will. but like any good christian boy i've done a small wonder of internalizing when i tell you how i really feel because that ill is mine to drink away. smoke. stare into the sleepless hours, scrambling for a chance to amend the consequences of my foolishness so each and every fucking thing can be perfect just so long as it kills me in the end. but it's not martyrdom. fuck a bunch of lauds. in fact, my will to suffer time isn't one i even want noticed but if it makes the world a better place i will. gladly. even if it's a stony hill story. even if it doesn't matter at all. it does. because it's mine to do with what i like and i'll be damned if i won't make it right) might just be a spectre beyond all understanding.

A ghost, i guess.

A trigger.

A shapeless sky imbued in everything. the empty wheel. the river turning waves to sea and oceans where they crash back and leave the few daring enough to see them coming breathless in wonder and wait.

Fearless.

Ready to be destroyed as swept away to the peace that surpasses.

And maybe, one day, i'll understand that. one day i'll see the spark that started all good men to war for a name. a place. a right to what was given (once) in a blind, knowing gesture of complete imperfection.

Loose us from these sterile convictions.

Mansion On The Hill.mp3

Watch him by

Let the dead herald him.

As an agent. an advocate. a charge in paper armor for the charming bourgeoisie to pick apart a penance from my lithe and shallow spring.

WHAT TORMENT!

What an incidental asshole but at last he was past the prime that men of his vanity set see as being the end of all things but never acknowledge. never dare mention out of character.

WHAT SUFFERING!

And so the accolades afford him a place in the american argument.

WHAT A TRAGEDY!

A calvinist walks into a bar.

Oh.

Not quite a greek, no. there's not a motherfucker to be seen for miles and miles of this ingobility.

Just the cold clamor of sense being made from nothing.

A swift, unsteady explanation of actions we may have seen a hundred times before in pariahs far more evidenced in their moaning waves of sex as destructive angle and back again to dope. guns. knives on the basement floor for a sonnet.

Towards an exegesis in silly string.

Science is Golden.mp3

Shaking ways

Don't look at me now, i'm not ready and there's nothing to say.

Another hour in this pale skin, electric suit and maybe. just maybe. i'll have the means to show you who it is you're facing day after day in the cauldron. the pit. the hell of finding a voice that reads the same to loons as liars and lovers who just need to hear that everything will be okay when it all comes rolling in.

To rise against this madness with the pride of knowing that just at your neck are millions cut in the same dreaded tie and gamble that if they only closed their eyes they'd do just fine.

Suited up in ice.

And lying formless the fortune that came and kissed their anybody, anywhere, anytime like the present. to dine in the courtesy of cocksuckers and queens as if to assure everything would just be.

As it is.

Even if the company doesn't give a shit.

PROGRESS! PROGRESS!

The temple expands. the knife tightens the wound in my hand and i'd promise her anything if i could just stand.

Be Somebody.mp3

Make it fake

Set in semen and the sun set through the gates of hell.

The last wind rustling.

The dead tree bows.

Bare chested bastard in the scene and looking on his glories like a medicine show when he knows this is, at heart and holy, who the fuck he is to himself. to the world. the woebegone. the folks who know him better, he says. the finds who befriended him for the reference and scuttled callous undertow.

So what?

So fucking fine, the queenstown romeo, at his scattering and fettered debris that no one notices the light's on. no one minds the once great suffering of the puppet piled on top of grey hair and the hopes he's bringing back to task for mistaking him for someone righteous enough to master the stunt.

The calling card.

Matter of men meant to thunder in the night against indifference. injustice made of erstwhile epithets written on the back of tortured jackets taken when daddy didn't mind the till enough to know his boy was missing. his little girl had hit the shitter.

Head first. soft mouth wide open. pink nipples out of frame (just barely, begging future interest in her artfully cum pocked areole).

But he just might.

Cock Asia.mp3

Still

God rest you red barbarians. you saber tongued sons of frantic intellect.

Your war's not over yet.

By years and men yet forged in the kingdoms of earth and pleasure. carved in the skin of the innocent.

The age of acquaintance.

The blood, black and high on the flag off her mast waving the canon of subterfuge for the sirens to scream through the streets until someone, just anyone understands that they matter in the storm.

When the walls crash.

The wind falls, electric.

Stirring dust.

The fear as endless as the looking glass cowboy whose ravaged arms once raised us up to see the lights of the north sky when we were children and cradled ourselves in the cracks of his hand. feigning sleep. low suffering. a hundred reasons to keep up the demons when we should have been listening.

The quiet was all that we needed.

The hum of a heartbeat.

Our fathers, torn themselves, from the same cloth of fury. born with the same promising fists and what dreams they've kept hidden for the sake of their one simple offering.

A reason to live.

To believe.

Even now.

As we crawl with broken backs towards bethlehem. in the path of great men and shining beasts. clutching our breasts. hope, alive singing with dread until we, at last, meet our magnificence.

Our peace.

New Country.mp3

Still waiting the old address

No, you don't. you never know. you can guess. you can fathom. you can plan your days away from dawn until the day you die in the shade of the bridge where you first let your hand slip under her dress while you kissed to a cicada sunset but it won't amount to anything more than the memory of a palimpsest.

So bury it.

Burn.

Let the strange avenues of fortune shine a terrifying way for you without friends, without lovers, without country or kin to call you back to the sense of belonging because sometimes, at our finest moments, all we know. all we dream. all we believe and loathe is lost to the moment.

And clarity shines her grasshopper sonnet.

The ants drown, lonely, in the bay.

In The New Year.mp3