Filed under: Uncategorized
This is for all the burnt out youth. Anyone whose flame has flickered far away. This time tomorrow, what will we know? Only time will tell what time will hold for this and future generations. We are the generation of burnt out youth yearning for change. Make a change! Do what you can to save this planet or we will drown. Build your boats because one day this world will drown! Let’s do our part!
In an age of limitless technology, it seems we have the lost the means of how to communicate effectively with one another. E-mails flood the inboxes of the masses without fail everyday. Who is the messenger of lines of dialogue between millions of people worldwide? Who is this?
A Messenger ran by a corporate giant: Microsoft. Let us question this and not let it stand. Why have we lost the means to communicate by phone or face to face? It feels so cold this grip of technology on my throat. A stranglehold for strangers who know each other but feel like a cold automated machine in which the cognitive mind wheels turn. Ramble On and Communcation Breakdown. Ones and Zeros dance into the mainstream of a stream that was once serene, natural and beautiful. Question the communication or communicate with a messenger that will lead you to a breakdown in need of human feeling and contact.
{Please leave a reply, if you feel the way I do)
Filed under: Self Loathing
If you like tripping out to a crazy cabaret of mind bending visuals, then Richard Linklater’s A Scanner Darkly is just the film to watch. A great social commentary on people in the near future hooked on drugs administered by their government to control them. Check it out and know that you will trip out, just make sure you come back to reality.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Neko Case turned up forty years or so too late to be one of the great country voices of the Fifties — hearts break whenever she hits one of those seraphic high notes. The songs on her fourth studio album, though, are vastly weirder than her precursors': You'll find evocative story fragments about profound alienation written in the dense language of contemporary poetry ("the sledge of tectonic fever"); chorusless rambles with one long free-form verse; oblique songs about songs that suggest she's been studying her New Pornographers bandmate Dan Bejar's stuff; and folk-song lines about John the Baptist. But from her luscious, aching croon, and her ensemble's solemn high-mesa twang and groove (the crew includes members of Calexico and the Band's Garth Hudson), you'd never guess she wasn't covering Patsy Cline standards.
Oh Boy, I am having to restrain myself from playing this record all day long. Heartwrenching and haunting in true Neko style. Tales of life love and death, real or metaphoric. Makes me want to get in a pickup truck and run away to a place where the moon is always full and our eyes are always haunted.
Filed under: Self Loathing
What's in a name? It's all but a game. Names we write on papers according to stature. Stature stands as statutory rape. Names want to be remembered after they're gone; thus we must bust out of the ordinary into the ranks of the truly extraordinary. Blue hills of blues use the blue to define you. Don't kick back and wait for destiny. Walk the line like Johnny Cash and make the fast dash into a fast flash of famous.
Filed under: Uncategorized
We must break free of the mundane: Part 1: End All Reality
Dream of life as a dream, a far off illusion of the mind. Act as if all is a vision and act on impulse and instinct. We can all live in utopia almost as communists. Free speech is allowed and we must utilize it with power. The word can be heard. Say something relevant. Do not stand still. Stillness is death. Moving is life. Keep looking ahead. Never behind. Truth is in the eye of the beholder. Fall off the cliff of reality onto the cloud of illusion. Keep your friends close and enemies much closer.
Flourish: Today is the day!
Filed under: Short Stories
Disreputable Mimes by Aldo J. Falbo
Part One: London 1980 – Drugs A Go Go
It was the turbulent times in London town. Cocaine was the candy of choice. Miami Vice was a killer filler of an hour on the telly. Margaret Thatcher smiled crookedly with her crooked chiclets. Disreputable times fell upon London with sounds of punk motherfuckers such as The Clash and The Sex Pistols.
My name is Sid Vickers and I’m a fucking piece of shite punk rocker. Cock stalker. Midnight walker. Lying on the floor, I stuck a syringe in me arm and realised to meself that I was overdosing. Sirens of ambulances sounded loudly as I got off the phone with the emergency operator. I deserve what I got, I knew what happens when you get too much of the shot.
Lying in the hospital bed, I thought to meself that I was not going to make it through. Me ticker was not a ticking like a spring chicken. I realised that it was like a drum stick sticking till the beat hits four and I’m out the door. Simply the grace of God it was and the fickle faith that I have in him.
Walking the streets with my heart ticking right, I knew I should not pick a fight. And I didn’t that night. Fighter’s heart I got and I never touched a whiskey shot. It burns me throat like fire and ice at the same time. Anyways enough of that shite, I was going to meet up with me lads at the local pub and toast some good health and good luck. It was me favourite pub in Old London called simply “Ye Ole Pub”.
Pushing the door open, I was dumbfounded to find me ol’ lads sitting, drinking their pints of ale with gleefulness and they had my pint waiting for me and smiles all round to see me in good health. Really I didn’t deserve this but I thought heaven can wait.
And so the story begins…
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Miles Davis not only is an innovator but truly a music visionary. With a discography ranging from the classic Kind of Blue to his truly improvised and inspired Bitches Brew Sessions with Herbie Hancock on keyboards and Tony Williams on drums; Davis can't be beat.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Hello world! What a marvelous day! Today, we must face another amazing day full of mundane mischief!
Here are some short form flows for you:
Sinking Fast
The plumber came to the door around 9am in the morning, it was summertime. I had the blues because my fish Peeblo Phish was sinking fast in the toliet. You see I had no fish bowl to keep him in.
Charley
He always sat on the park bench, feeding the birds some birdseed. He came back the next day and found all the birds flopped upside down lying dead in their own feces. Charley went back home to see if the birdseed was expired and to his surprise, it wasn’t really birdseed, it was rat posion. Charley was a blind you see.
Brown Shoe, Summer Sloop
Crying to himself, Brown Shoe Gumby lost his summer sloop position to Sloop John B. It was hard times for Brown Shoe Gumby, he had a family to support.
Thou shall flourish 