And it make me float free
To feel how small my life must be
And it make me float free
To feel how small my life must be #
Tuesday, September 30, 2003
This is what I'll remember most about dying
So many moments like ghosts
Slipping through my hands in vain
You were 80% angel
10% demon
The rest was hard to explain
This American dream may be poisonous
Violence is contagious
Crowded or empty
I walk these city streets alone
Whoever brought me here
Is gonna have to take me home
This is what I'll remember most about dying
Loading these moments like a gun
Hoping to kill the pain
You were 80% angel
10% demon
The rest was hard to explain #
So many moments like ghosts
Slipping through my hands in vain
You were 80% angel
10% demon
The rest was hard to explain
This American dream may be poisonous
Violence is contagious
Crowded or empty
I walk these city streets alone
Whoever brought me here
Is gonna have to take me home
This is what I'll remember most about dying
Loading these moments like a gun
Hoping to kill the pain
You were 80% angel
10% demon
The rest was hard to explain #
Sunday, September 28, 2003
Friday, September 26, 2003
#: The last will be first and the first will be last. ~Q65
this is often hard to hear.
in the short term it sounds even patronizing:
insulting the poor, the loser, the
marginalized;
the unlucky, the careless, the
victim.
for such a saying requires a longer view;
a deeper horizon and the steely courage
to sail toward it.
many get lost in the pursuit of,
or the desire to hold onto,
being first.
no one fights to be last.
but it is often these at the end of
the line, those inhabitors of
the barrel's bottom, who
find themselves with furrowed
brow scanning a horizon
as yet undefined and, with
nothing to lose, discover the
living secret of being last.
this is often hard to hear.
in the short term it sounds even patronizing:
insulting the poor, the loser, the
marginalized;
the unlucky, the careless, the
victim.
for such a saying requires a longer view;
a deeper horizon and the steely courage
to sail toward it.
many get lost in the pursuit of,
or the desire to hold onto,
being first.
no one fights to be last.
but it is often these at the end of
the line, those inhabitors of
the barrel's bottom, who
find themselves with furrowed
brow scanning a horizon
as yet undefined and, with
nothing to lose, discover the
living secret of being last.
Thursday, September 25, 2003
Gapingvoid.com :: View topic - FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS: Why is your stuff always so dark and twisted?
"It's because I like to write about people, and people are dark and twisted. If they weren't we wouldn't need art in the first place."
"It's because I like to write about people, and people are dark and twisted. If they weren't we wouldn't need art in the first place."
anil dash: Whenever I wonder about random things like "Why are commercial toilets shaped differently than residential ones?" I can usually think through an answer on my own ("Probably so they're easier to clean...") or I can Google up some answers fairly quickly. Just once, I wish the actual answer were something like "This was a decision made by a secret cabal consisting of Freemasons and a murky consortium of international financiers, designed to advance their nefarious goals through control of the world's toilet bowls." But that's never the answer.
oh yes, there's more...
oh yes, there's more...
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
http://watchmedance.com/: the first thing to put a smile on my face for a long time. thanks danceman!
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
Sunday, September 21, 2003
#: "Unlike so many who can just leave well enough alone and go find something 'more productive' to do I find myself still combing old book indices into the night and spending every free moment conversing about, writing about, reading about the things that bring a certain coherence to the things we do."
Everything but the Girl
"Single" (from Walking Wounded)
I called you from the hotel phone
I haven't dialled this code before
I'm sleeping later and waking later
I'm eating less and thinking more
And how am I without you?
Am I more myself or less myself?
I feel younger, louder
Like I don't always connect
Like I don't ever connect
And do you like being single?
Do you want me back?
Do you want me back?
And do I like being single?
Am I coming back?
Am I coming back?
I'll put my suitcase here for now
I'll turn the TV to the bed
But if no one calls and I don't speak all day
Do I disappear?
And look at me without you
I'm quite proud of myself
I feel reckless, clumsy
Like I'm making a mistake
A really big mistake
And do you like being single?
Do you want me back?
Do you want me back?
And do I like being single?
Am I coming back?
Am I coming back?
Do you want me back?
And now I know
Each time I go
I don't really know
What I'm thinking
And now I know
Each time I go
I don't really know
What I'm thinking of
Do you want me back?
"Single" (from Walking Wounded)
I called you from the hotel phone
I haven't dialled this code before
I'm sleeping later and waking later
I'm eating less and thinking more
And how am I without you?
Am I more myself or less myself?
I feel younger, louder
Like I don't always connect
Like I don't ever connect
And do you like being single?
Do you want me back?
Do you want me back?
And do I like being single?
Am I coming back?
Am I coming back?
I'll put my suitcase here for now
I'll turn the TV to the bed
But if no one calls and I don't speak all day
Do I disappear?
And look at me without you
I'm quite proud of myself
I feel reckless, clumsy
Like I'm making a mistake
A really big mistake
And do you like being single?
Do you want me back?
Do you want me back?
And do I like being single?
Am I coming back?
Am I coming back?
Do you want me back?
And now I know
Each time I go
I don't really know
What I'm thinking
And now I know
Each time I go
I don't really know
What I'm thinking of
Do you want me back?
Saturday, September 20, 2003
2. She
Words: Bergquist/Detweiler
Music: Bergquist
What she would like to do
Is get you out of her head
She's tried every trick
She's so sick of thinking about it
What's so special about you
You're an ache she's learned to crave
You're a blade too dull to raise
But she cuts herself
On you every night
She's just dying
To lay down the knife
What she would love to do
Is get you out of her bed
She's played it over and over and over
In her head
But she cuts herself
On you every night
She's just dying
To lay down the knife
She clings to what's familiar
She thinks a change would kill her
What she ought to do
Is put a gun to your head
For all the things you said and did
But what she will not do
Is let you go before you're gone
It's everything that's ever been wrong
But it's all she's ever known
So she cuts herself on you every night
She's just dyin' to lay down her life
Karin Bergquist: Vocals and Acoustic Guitar
Linford Detweiler: Bass, Acoustic Guitar, Upright Piano, Hammond Organ
Devon Ashley: Drums
3. Nobody Number One
Words: Detweiler
Music: Bergquist/Detweiler
I'm afraid I've lost the piece of me
I need the most you see
This puzzle is really just about the need
To be somebody
I'm afraid I'm not all that you see
All along the coast of me
I'm camouflaged, a desert mirage
A nobody
But you came so close and I assumed
You were looking
For the piece of yourself that's lost
It is the hiding place inside everybody
And though we love to numb the pain
We come to learn that it's in vain
Pain is our mother
She makes us recognize each other
C'mon now child don't cry
C'mon now child don't cry
Let's give it one more try
C'mon now child don't cry
Sometimes I feel so all alone
Here in this city I call my home
They say, Hey, you're one of us
Funny, I should feel so anonymous
But I'm drawn to you
And that still small voice is talking too
And that's the voice that so seldom can get through
You can't put no bandaid on this cancer
Like a twenty-dollar bill
For a topless dancer
You need questions
Forget about the answers
Do you really wanna die this way
That's the trouble with you and me
We always hit the bottom 'fore we get set free
I'm so far down
I'm beginning to breathe
C'mon now child don't cry
C'mon now child don't cry
Let's give it one more try
C'mon now child don't cry
Cuz we're just too young to die
Karin Bergquist: Vocals
Linford Detweiler: Upright Piano, Hammond Organ, Mellotron, Wurlitzer
Devon Ashley: Drums
Tony Paoletta: Pedal Steel
Jake Smith: Bass
Words: Bergquist/Detweiler
Music: Bergquist
What she would like to do
Is get you out of her head
She's tried every trick
She's so sick of thinking about it
What's so special about you
You're an ache she's learned to crave
You're a blade too dull to raise
But she cuts herself
On you every night
She's just dying
To lay down the knife
What she would love to do
Is get you out of her bed
She's played it over and over and over
In her head
But she cuts herself
On you every night
She's just dying
To lay down the knife
She clings to what's familiar
She thinks a change would kill her
What she ought to do
Is put a gun to your head
For all the things you said and did
But what she will not do
Is let you go before you're gone
It's everything that's ever been wrong
But it's all she's ever known
So she cuts herself on you every night
She's just dyin' to lay down her life
Karin Bergquist: Vocals and Acoustic Guitar
Linford Detweiler: Bass, Acoustic Guitar, Upright Piano, Hammond Organ
Devon Ashley: Drums
3. Nobody Number One
Words: Detweiler
Music: Bergquist/Detweiler
I'm afraid I've lost the piece of me
I need the most you see
This puzzle is really just about the need
To be somebody
I'm afraid I'm not all that you see
All along the coast of me
I'm camouflaged, a desert mirage
A nobody
But you came so close and I assumed
You were looking
For the piece of yourself that's lost
It is the hiding place inside everybody
And though we love to numb the pain
We come to learn that it's in vain
Pain is our mother
She makes us recognize each other
C'mon now child don't cry
C'mon now child don't cry
Let's give it one more try
C'mon now child don't cry
Sometimes I feel so all alone
Here in this city I call my home
They say, Hey, you're one of us
Funny, I should feel so anonymous
But I'm drawn to you
And that still small voice is talking too
And that's the voice that so seldom can get through
You can't put no bandaid on this cancer
Like a twenty-dollar bill
For a topless dancer
You need questions
Forget about the answers
Do you really wanna die this way
That's the trouble with you and me
We always hit the bottom 'fore we get set free
I'm so far down
I'm beginning to breathe
C'mon now child don't cry
C'mon now child don't cry
Let's give it one more try
C'mon now child don't cry
Cuz we're just too young to die
Karin Bergquist: Vocals
Linford Detweiler: Upright Piano, Hammond Organ, Mellotron, Wurlitzer
Devon Ashley: Drums
Tony Paoletta: Pedal Steel
Jake Smith: Bass
6. How Long Have You Been Stoned
Words and Music: Bergquist/Detweiler
What's it like to be the only somebody in the room
Tell us all what does it cost you to be you
Takin' out Daddy's trash now ain't it a drag
Trippin' on Papa's brand new body bag
How long have you been stoned?
Places
Everybody places
Embrace it
It's the way it has to be
Wasted
Is everybody wasted
Complacent
Is anybody free
How long have you been stoned?
Words and Music: Bergquist/Detweiler
What's it like to be the only somebody in the room
Tell us all what does it cost you to be you
Takin' out Daddy's trash now ain't it a drag
Trippin' on Papa's brand new body bag
How long have you been stoned?
Places
Everybody places
Embrace it
It's the way it has to be
Wasted
Is everybody wasted
Complacent
Is anybody free
How long have you been stoned?
1. Long Lost Brother
Words and Music: Detweiler
I thought that we'd be
Further along by now
I can't remember how
We stumbled to this place
I loved you like a long lost brother
On a bad day maybe I thought why bother
I've seldom seen so much anger
In a face
I wanna do better
I wanna try harder
I wanna believe
Down to the letter
Jesus and Mary
Can you carry us
Across this ocean
Into the arms of forgiveness
I don't mean to laugh outloud
I'm trying to come clean
Trying to shed my doubt
Maybe I should just keep
My big mouth shut
More often than not
When it comes to you
You want whatever's not in front of you
Deep down I know this includes me too
So tell me your troubles
Let your pain rain down
I know my job I've been around
I invest in the mess
I'm a low cost dumping ground
Trouble is I'm so exhausted
The plot, you see, I think I've lost it
I need the grace to find what can't be found
I wanna do better
I wanna try harder
I wanna believe
Down to the letter
Jesus and Mary
Can you carry us
Across this ocean
Into the arms of forgiveness
Words and Music: Detweiler
I thought that we'd be
Further along by now
I can't remember how
We stumbled to this place
I loved you like a long lost brother
On a bad day maybe I thought why bother
I've seldom seen so much anger
In a face
I wanna do better
I wanna try harder
I wanna believe
Down to the letter
Jesus and Mary
Can you carry us
Across this ocean
Into the arms of forgiveness
I don't mean to laugh outloud
I'm trying to come clean
Trying to shed my doubt
Maybe I should just keep
My big mouth shut
More often than not
When it comes to you
You want whatever's not in front of you
Deep down I know this includes me too
So tell me your troubles
Let your pain rain down
I know my job I've been around
I invest in the mess
I'm a low cost dumping ground
Trouble is I'm so exhausted
The plot, you see, I think I've lost it
I need the grace to find what can't be found
I wanna do better
I wanna try harder
I wanna believe
Down to the letter
Jesus and Mary
Can you carry us
Across this ocean
Into the arms of forgiveness
Friday, September 19, 2003
4. Jesus In New Orleans
Words: Detweiler
Music: Bergquist
The last time I saw Jesus
I was drinking bloody mary's in the South
In a barroom in New Orleans
Rinsin' out the bad taste in my mouth
She wore a dark and faded blazer
With a little of the lining hanging out
When the jukebox played Miss Dorothy Moore
I knew that it was him without a doubt
I said the road is my redeemer
I never know just what on earth I'll find
In the faces of a stranger
In the dark and weary corners of a mind
She said, The last highway is only
As far away as you are from yourself
And no matter just how bad it gets
It does no good to blame somebody else
Ain't it crazy
What's revealed when you're not looking all that close
Ain't it crazy
How we put to death the ones we need the most
I know I'm not a martyr
I've never died for anyone but me
The last frontier is only
The stranger in the mirror that I see
But when I least expect it
Here and there I see my savior's face
He's still my favorite loser
Falling for the entire human race
Words: Detweiler
Music: Bergquist
The last time I saw Jesus
I was drinking bloody mary's in the South
In a barroom in New Orleans
Rinsin' out the bad taste in my mouth
She wore a dark and faded blazer
With a little of the lining hanging out
When the jukebox played Miss Dorothy Moore
I knew that it was him without a doubt
I said the road is my redeemer
I never know just what on earth I'll find
In the faces of a stranger
In the dark and weary corners of a mind
She said, The last highway is only
As far away as you are from yourself
And no matter just how bad it gets
It does no good to blame somebody else
Ain't it crazy
What's revealed when you're not looking all that close
Ain't it crazy
How we put to death the ones we need the most
I know I'm not a martyr
I've never died for anyone but me
The last frontier is only
The stranger in the mirror that I see
But when I least expect it
Here and there I see my savior's face
He's still my favorite loser
Falling for the entire human race
Ben Hammersley's Dangerous Precedent: Back in the saddle again: "Starting in a hollowed log of wood--some thousand miles up a river with infinitesimal prospect of returning, I ask myself 'Why?' and the only echo is 'damned fool!...the Devil drives.'"
- Sir Richard Burton
- Sir Richard Burton
Thursday, September 18, 2003
lowbrow dot com: "Lowbrow.com is dedicated to bringing you the best user submitted content about scraping the bottom and being a general piece of shit.
It is about moments where you said something completely inappropriate, where you stuck your foot in your mouth, or stamped the air out of some poor fuck's lungs.
Lowbrow.com is about calling people names, shitting in their pudding, pushing them down stairs, eating white bread and expired fruit pies from the bakery outlet and drinking 'charcoal filtered' vodka - straight from the plastic two liter bottle.
Lowbrow.com is about vomiting on a city bus, mistaking someone's sex, driving your car through a garage door, taking swings at police, and standing on the front step of your trailer home with a loaded shotgun and a can of Old Milwaukee's Best.
Lowbrow.com is about criticizing people, it's about knowing what's right, being better than the next guy, and spouting barstool philosophy.
Lowbrow.com is about sweat stains on your wife beater t-shirt, shaving your head, but not your mutton-chops, owning cars with 't-tops,' eating at fast food restaurants, and having full-time diarrhea.
Lowbrow.com is not about unrequited love, being dumped, or teen angst - unless there is an unbelievably cruel, nasty or embarrassing aspect to the story. Stories of infidelity, incredible sex with strangers, and/or sitting home alone masturbating are, however, encouraged.
Write us at low at lowbrow dot com if you have any questions, you clueless piece of shit.
- The Management"
It is about moments where you said something completely inappropriate, where you stuck your foot in your mouth, or stamped the air out of some poor fuck's lungs.
Lowbrow.com is about calling people names, shitting in their pudding, pushing them down stairs, eating white bread and expired fruit pies from the bakery outlet and drinking 'charcoal filtered' vodka - straight from the plastic two liter bottle.
Lowbrow.com is about vomiting on a city bus, mistaking someone's sex, driving your car through a garage door, taking swings at police, and standing on the front step of your trailer home with a loaded shotgun and a can of Old Milwaukee's Best.
Lowbrow.com is about criticizing people, it's about knowing what's right, being better than the next guy, and spouting barstool philosophy.
Lowbrow.com is about sweat stains on your wife beater t-shirt, shaving your head, but not your mutton-chops, owning cars with 't-tops,' eating at fast food restaurants, and having full-time diarrhea.
Lowbrow.com is not about unrequited love, being dumped, or teen angst - unless there is an unbelievably cruel, nasty or embarrassing aspect to the story. Stories of infidelity, incredible sex with strangers, and/or sitting home alone masturbating are, however, encouraged.
Write us at low at lowbrow dot com if you have any questions, you clueless piece of shit.
- The Management"
lowbrow dot com: "college english comp class.
20 chairs in a circle.
Exercise in writing honestly.
My turn comes up.
I tell the class that I would love nothing more than to tickle-fuck the professor.
I am now having a hard time getting my transcripts sent to another school.
Fucking honesty."
- dandypants@yourassoc.org
20 chairs in a circle.
Exercise in writing honestly.
My turn comes up.
I tell the class that I would love nothing more than to tickle-fuck the professor.
I am now having a hard time getting my transcripts sent to another school.
Fucking honesty."
- dandypants@yourassoc.org
languagehat.com: RDIAENG.: "Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at an Elingsh uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht frist and lsat ltteer is at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae we do not raed ervey lteter by it slef but the wrod as a wlohe. ceehiro."
Living again in suburbia, being forcefully yanked from what I had considered my natural environment, I had this short but interesting observation:
Nothing can happen organically in the suburbs, no spontaneous creation. Let me explain: you could never invent bicycling or skateboarding (or...) in the suburbs, because your only transportation option is a car. I think the example to be extended to many other things.
Anyway, just a thought.
Nothing can happen organically in the suburbs, no spontaneous creation. Let me explain: you could never invent bicycling or skateboarding (or...) in the suburbs, because your only transportation option is a car. I think the example to be extended to many other things.
Anyway, just a thought.
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