| i've become her and it hurts my mind |
[13 Aug 2009|10:53am] |
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music |
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Sixty Feet Tall - The Dead Weather |
] |
the deejays took pills to stay awake for seven days
the apostles ate apples to keep their teeth clean
the chairman wrote figures on his last expenditure
an old friend comforts her dying hamster
pigeons don't migrate they just tough it out
i may walk like a poor man but i switch off like the radio
all our dreams are cherry red inside their head
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| jennifisis astronomical/it's educational |
[18 Jul 2008|01:53pm] |
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music |
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Taxi Driver - Gym Class Heroes |
] |
jennifer wrestled her friend playfully to the ground
infront of the snowcone stand and began licking at the
girls eyeballs, as if they were sugar cubes.
their bodies convulsed and flailed with an almost seizure
like intensity at times their pale limbs seeming to
shift back and forth from one torso to the other.
a crowd gathered almost immediately to watch these two
girls tie and untie their bodies like a pair of
pit-vipers. they were confused, or concerned, or
shocked, or aroused, or all of the above.
but no-one dared interfere with the performance.
jennifer's long ashen hair hung down concealing
the girls face like a curtain around a hospital bed.
no one had any idea that the girls eyes were revolving
under her ruby tongue. "this is disgusting, it's pornography"
exclaimed a pasty slut white woman in a fur coat,
vanilla ice-cream smeared across her double chin like
a money shot. counting a balding professor type in his
mid-forties, his left hand stuffed crassly down the
front of his pants "no, no, no. this is beautiful,
this is art."
like keswickers
like brunswickers
she cursed me one time
through a hurricane of laughter
when i took up jay's offer
i mustah been blind mad.
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| lissun to the engines hum! |
[15 Jul 2008|10:01am] |
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music |
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Smoke It - The Dandy Warhols |
] |
if you don't want it, we'll take it; if you don't want to give it to us, we keep walking by and keep going, we're not tired got plenty of places to go, lots of homes we ain't been to yet well in the
west side
southwest side
middle-east
rich house
dog house
outhouse
old folks house
house for unwed mothers
halfway homes
catacombs
twilight zones
winter wimmen growing bones
carrying aborted babies to the river
looking for techniques t'turn-tables to gramophones
when will y'all consider a video cassette recorder vintage?
(oh, i remember those, fast-forward future tension)
now my mind is filled with borden ground fires and notre dame rubber tires
and plates of pâté and crackers sittin at nottawasaga inn. this don't befriend me much i want a tidal wave as tall as myself to purify my bones, blood and soul.
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| bobbie says it's fine he don't consider it cheatin'! |
[11 Jul 2008|12:10pm] |
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music |
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Casual Conversations - Supertramp |
] |
bin about a year since bobby b began his prestine debauchery bein' down and out in montreal and sweet home toronto; calabrian man was lisnin' t'all my dirty jokes and last time i snuck up their back fence i stole an ace of spades which seemed to hold some significance... the important part is that people have word i'm in yore turf de location y'all about to see the rebirth of a nation:
yaieee icky thump whoda thunk?
sittin' drunk venture down
sou'central mecks-hee-ko!
redheaded sistah
black chinka mistrah
up to lexington 125!
feel sick and dirty
more dead than alive
rest yore head
en espanol
I do proclaim,
got me plenty gulps a'water
and i'm hung around the collar
trade my cads fore a xylophone!
and i curse
behind the hearse
she had one white eye
and a lazy stare
lookin' up
lyin' thar
near my stand
in her hand was
a candy cane
black rum/sugar cane
on dry ice nice champagne
na na na nana na naaaaa
french canadians, watt?
nuthin' better t'do?
why doncha kick yoreselves out
yore all anglophones, too
bobbie was a backstreet
bobbie was a whore
he really got big
now he's gunna get bigga
sittin' on my left hand
weaker ringfinger
people people people
he's a rock n' roll trigga!
and the cost doesn't matter to me; heyzeus keeerighst and grandpa too and me i ain't nevah gunna un'erstan' those bedevilled morphine blues it's just a new york conversation rattlin' through skydome and my long gone cousins are all calm, hehe, they're calm like some bombs!
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| transmogrification in the 3rd degree |
[10 Jul 2008|09:44am] |
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music |
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Nature Of The Experiment - Tokyo Police Club |
] |
welcome to griffintown home of the wopper of eyes lyon in the night
now to devise a method to wonderland werd to honorable major mackenzie know who you are to be blind, boyyy
take it back to hell'n killher, deaf, dumb, loss of the tongue
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| come on down to three rivers |
[24 Jun 2008|11:01am] |
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music |
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Minnie The Moocher - Cab Calloway |
] |
i'm w/PG 13, Ms. Lynch Rocks and Ricky (Prune_Tracy) Reekhardo on Walkley Av, oh yeah dave & jen. justin's in oreoville, just the fax dax. just the fax.
the fogertys had a yard sale and i found two oil paintings and panthers on tape. kyle johnson's rockin' steady just like jeremy seb, two twofers and a lb. of flesh of 12 majestic fallen angels
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| pour patricia |
[01 Jun 2008|05:25pm] |
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music |
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Should I Stay Or Should I Go? - The Clash |
] |
friday night and a milk maid surely manson-esque hundred dullards go down the drain
je me souvenirs quand adam stacey dit a moi les mots tu dit est cryptique pour extremente mon ami.
the bourgeoisie is bleeding not so you`d notice happens every thursday night at half past renegade hour. fordy years in the mackin` shackin` rake the bunker house always wins. so it`s a melancholly sonday and i`m a well wisher and well... i wish y'all no ammount of specific harm as i light another chesterfield afire and thar L-U-Vin` my quick wit i`m even laffin` when they get a reaction don`t dey all?
moe used to run hell`s kitchen now he`s run by mercury and takillya whiskey barnacles ain`t got nuttin` on an ole labradorian.
payce... how low can you go? robbie richard does the anglo limbo
RE/SPECKTOR//WATT DID YA SAY?
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| why don't you just gimme a jingle in the year 2000 |
[19 May 2008|07:37am] |
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music |
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Anthem For The Year 2000 - Silverchair |
] |
i spent nike day runnin' counter-clockwise in a circular motion round nathan philip's square. mayhap my next stop be old san juan. take it in the east-hide it in the west but at least i've been gittin' some decent rest. to quote MCA and tyler durden, "do what you" like the first monkey shot into space.
who ya gunna call?
post-script
in other news fiddy thousand china people died in a grate earth shake along with three giant pandas. won't somebody plz think of the pandas!
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| that's some high quality aitch-two-oh |
[11 May 2008|05:25pm] |
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music |
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Private Dancer - Tina Turner |
] |
yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
you know i can't afford your blues
i don't give a fucq molto christi bana
el roberto declemente is mounting his saddle. fresh dressed.
we'll be takin' everything you hold dear darlun. the crown is merely preservation. i've got a hook straight from the mouth of hell. point st. charlie brownoser bulldozer i'm drinkin' manhattens across from crescent's celtic locale. i'm an armoured wrecking ball and a triscut yore balls off and wear um in that purse you carry around like cracked lips and new york big gulp it down mr. carryall. washington d.c. is full of racists. ain't nuthin' changed since huddie's day in court.
fucq yore yankee blue genes i gotta telephone call from turkey to attend to
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| attn: |
[01 May 2008|11:16pm] |
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music |
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Think! - Aretha Franklin |
] |
i hereby invoke the age-old tradition of parlez.
if there is something you want from me simply ask.
i enjoy working outside with my hands.
i require courses however i`d prefer for others sake rather than mine that you do not throw the book at me. if the book is thrown at me i will catch it and game over, i win.
i wish to continue my relationships with left wing radicals until i have all the strength and courage it requires.
my loyalties lay with the constellations. lion`s heart and rabbit feet. come ride with me down to the valley filled with regret and i get lonely but i ain`t that lonely yet.
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| comin` in in all direckshuns |
[23 Apr 2008|12:27pm] |
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music |
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My Work Is So Behind - The Residents |
] |
for theirs is the power
and this is their kingdom
as sure as the sun does burn...
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| everybody's laughing at the way it's goin' down |
[21 Mar 2008|03:37pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
The Kids Don't Stand A Chance - Vampire Weekend |
] |
hook hook where is the hook/hook hook where is the hook
hook hook where is the hook/hook hook where is the hook
hook hook where is the hook/hook hook where is the hook
neurotic to the bone with the way things are goin'
they're gunna crucify me
well ya blocked off mosta saint cats
for yore snake parade
and everywon around they bring a brand new sound
i know i really wanna get laid
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| always be good t'me |
[28 Feb 2008|08:34am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Johnny B. Goode - Chuck Berry |
] |
you must not see anyone
you must not talk to anyone
and if you do it could have serious
reprecussions on future events
this is a blues riff in b
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watch me for the changes
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and try t'keep up
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| rickards red - makers mark |
[27 Feb 2008|01:08am] |
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music |
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Special K - Placebo |
] |
tomorrow i ski on all that fresh powda. i'm a lucky bum. every day i'm feeling more like dean moriarty or sal paradise. much like dante and randall, i haven't figured which way i lean, completely. i like downhill skiing, though, it's fun. mmmm delicious post-ski-day sleep-time i love droopy eyelids they're sexy on anyone.
p.s. i miss brandon slaughter. after he's done with higher learning in london he's fully invited to the ndg pad. only straight-up gees get furnished with the pimp treatmenat yow...
i really have no idea what i'm sayun most the time. i blame flavor flav.
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| loup loup loup garou |
[17 Feb 2008|06:36pm] |
| [ |
music |
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Alice's Restaurant - Arlo Guthrie |
] |
zozozoz... send message... got a crick in my neck that's bloody awful. this weekend we relocated. it went smooth like butter. now we're no longer at the tracks. walkley street fo lyfe, nig. we really hope caesar gets a hold of me again. there's a strong wind blowin' and the sidewalks a mite slippery.
i'm a badass. i truly, truly am. besides the stress, i put up a good front. maybe some advil or aleve might do the trick. knife throwin' poker playin' even the mob know what the hell i mean. business will get better however, there's nothin' holdin' me back. imagine yourself with a soul like a spring. coil it, baby, double double for those who are about to die don't forget to shake hands with shakespeare. the best trick (and there are many) [...] termine
soon i'm gunna be the son of my father. my eyes are wide open, lotta oysters out there, despite my compassionate side, i'll bite off with what i'm comfortable with.
over all i'm rather pleased with the way things are turning out. these are the best years of my life.
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| i`ve got blisters on my fingers! |
[13 Feb 2008|10:44am] |
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music |
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Space Oddity - David Bowie |
] |
i`ve signed my class c contract. task-force 2009, assuming parliament doesn`t fuckup our institution, is green. ours will be the most difficult and dangerous mission in khandahar t`date. with the death of bhutto (praise be her name) refugee uprisings are a possibility in the region. can you say franz ferdinand... can you say jackie onassis without choking on your own tongue... i wake up in the morning look around for my shoes...
won some infantry money last night while watching the habs play tampa bay. i only play superior when i`ve had 3+ drinks. there`s a fire in my blood and a stash of cash if you`re a believer in henry ford. welcome to detroit city, baby. i was in hull all last week. participated in the annual canadian cross-country ski marathon. it was the first time i`d ever been cross-country skiing. been downhill plenty of times but my family could tell you that. i wonder the next time i`m gunna hit the range for guns-golfclubs-apasturewherecattleresidestop. to end my narrative i completed four of the ten tracks, which, for a beginner, i was pretty content with. that`s 60+ km, by the by. jus tryin` to keep warm and modest while my fingers are constantly turnin` red and lapointe found out his baby was dead.
yeah yeah yeah
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| playun in da snow |
[01 Feb 2008|02:08pm] |
| [ |
music |
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Them Bones - Alice In Chains |
] |
winter warfare my brother can you handle it?
i was talking with a nam vet last saturday night. apparently he was pretty fucked up the two years after he returned to north america... he never talked to anywon directly he only spoke in song lyrics. i could possibly see that happening to me... i already speak in enough quotes. the poetry is still in me. she hates my job, i love life. we'll continue this conversation another time.
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| i'll be along for the ride |
[26 Jan 2008|07:31pm] |
| [ |
music |
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Ac-Cent-Chu-Ate The Positive - Johnny Mercer |
] |
my island. my island. my island.
first the westmount wimmen then the world.
bobby b smokes TNT gorrilla rape is some aggressive fornication. remember the rock, devil's gap battery. remember africa. one more thing. gunna go to greece on my leave. maybe two-up for aussieland. people are talking thailand but my interest in the orient only extends so far. maybe when i'm older and much more indoctrinated/transfixed in that culture. it's happening though, i'm slowly turning into jack, the dead minstrel this role that i'm slowly usurping. i'm feeling like hunter s. pouring myself in and outta cities streets roads and villiages. no more errands for numbskulls. this is the premium life. this life runs on supreme bio-feelmycrotchitswetliketheindigenous plants of a rainforest this is not a mission statement. this is a briefing of the status of plan bravo. gimme some juice i'm on the loose, goose cause we ain't out killin' motherfuckers yet
don't preach to me.
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| framed picture - closed casket |
[17 Jan 2008|09:03pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Have Love Will Travel - The Sonics |
] |
i'm at trenton today. we chased the sun down autoroute fordy. i really couldn't get fucked up tonight so instead i chugged some sodas. smoking & joking with subtle solemnity. the pallbearers are all guys i work with. my father was going to a funeral for someone he didn't know, aussi. we both have mutual awkwardness. i speak like a quebecois all the time now. i think i'm even typing like one. i feel like i'm trapped in some supersucking electro-shocking multiphrenic blues rendition. unlike a henry rollins poem there might just be one way out, baby
parce que ain't nobody knows
when it's gunna be their family
in the front row
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mr_bourgeoisie's journal