Monday, February 22, 2010

blogging. it's gay.

blogging is gay.

gay, you say? like, dude-on-dude gay? oh yes, it's incredibly gay. that's why i never get around to it. i'm usually knee-deep in women's vaginas and plowing my way through hot virgin sluts (yes, virgin sluts).

that being said, i may one day need to become a world-famous writer (if my plan on becoming a world-famous shark-watch salesman doesn't pan out). and i may need to keep writing. and while i don't think my writing will be anything like this, i assume it does help to slap together a few paragraphs like this, have no one read them and then do it again on occasion more to keep my fingers used to using a keyboard than anything else.

and i guess if i hit a low-point in my life and i'm strapped for cash (because i bought a mike green Lamborghini) i can always write porn? right?

lastly, i go onto youtube and type in 'funk' or 'metal' or 'badass jam' and look around until i find something that catches my attention every time i write on this site. and.... all i can say is japan.










http://www.greenlife52.com/
4lyfe!!!

my god, looking at this, i realize i could write an entire blog dedicated to how gay mike green actually is. if only i wasn't busy doing anything else.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

new gig

Sometimes i think everything is fine. And sometimes i feel like i need a new gig.


is it weird i feel like i should have been famous?


i'm not sure how. or why. but i can feel it in my bones.
i should be the one on tv.
i should be the topic of discussion.
i should have my own clever t-shirt slogans.

things i could be famous for:

-genius
-serial-killer
-rock star
-writer
-Truman Show (you're all watching MY life)
-invent an infomercial product
-spokesperson for infomercial product
-badass athlete
-silent athlete
-4th string quarterback (NFL)
-really good at chess.... and banging girls
-terrorist hunter
-super villain that never dies and is integral to the show
-astronaut
-date celebrity
-made for tv movies
-got off for murder because i'm white
-hold my breath for 10 minutes
-owns 5,000 snakes (appear on oprah)
-am god.


again, i don't know what i was meant to be-- but chances are it could have been one of them. i need to look into it. i just never seem to have the time.

-sigh-

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

where the funk?

Where DOEs funk come from really?


-mistaken time signature 'on-beats'
-intentional emphasis on the '1' and the '3'
-Hans Gruber
-hip-checking at the blue line
-Aliens (the movie)
-bass guitar
-alcohol
-marijuana
-antifreeze
-THIS guy
-peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches
-the pope (circa 1734 BC)
-dennis chambers (drums)
-black people (who aren't D-Chamb)
-Uranium Bassment



my money's on THAT guy, but all in all, i'll ask----
what is it really?

Monday, January 11, 2010

yearnin' n burnin'

we were driving home from work today listening to mmr's Jackson on the radio. He was reading reports about a huge forum for people 'dealing with depression' after seeing the movie Avatar. oh yes, this was a real thing. an online community for people obsessing over a james cameron movie.

My first thought was 'it's a movie jack-asses'. are people really suffering from bouts of depression and considering suicide because the mythical land of Pandora does, indeed, not exist?

my second thought was, 'oh my god, maybe that was why i was feeling so blah today!'.

my third thought was 'no, it's philadelphia suffer-monday' where we reflect on the weekend in football. ThAt's why i feel so blah. (incredible suffering and depression are to be expected after losing to the fucking cowboys)

my fourth thought was 'what's for dinner?'



--but the real point was, maybe it was a little of everything. and maybe seeing Avatar last night has, in some way, made me feel kind of like i'm... missing something.

the special effects were insane. the imaginary world was complex, rich, deep and believable (as believable as human-kind overlooking a moon of jupiter as being perfect to support healthy, lush and incredibly advanced life can be). and aside from the pocahontas-predictable storyline it was a kickass planet. and a part of me does yearn for something that beautiful and that pristine and that wild and undiscovered.

so i guess, in a way, this movie has affected me in my daily life (for 1 day at least). i'm just like all these jamokes on the avatar forums, i guess. and i better sign up before all the good Navi names are taken!

except it's not a depression per say. this feeling i've had all day-- it's a hunger. it's a self-destructive need. it's a primal force that belies reason. it's an urge to just see what happens when you set something on fire.

it's rooted deep within me and i can't explain it. it doesn't have a name or a face. and little things always touch upon it. they nibble at the edges. no one thing really captures it completely. it's always just out of focus.

it's in that moment the knockout punch lands in one of those epic hockey fights.
it's in the way the guitar note bends just the right way during the monumental solo.
it's in the taste of pain when your body tells you to stop running but you laugh and run harder.
it's in the swell of adrenaline that courses through your blood when you hear a car crash.






it's wanting to escape.






whether it's to a magical beautiful world, or to a place beyond words, or a higher level of knowing, or a different spiritual plane. it's the will for release.

i am by no means suicidal. this should be clear to anyone who knows me. but i do feel the pull from time to time. the pull towards chaos. i want to watch the speedometer needle press all the way to 140 and break. i want to dive headfirst over a cliff thousands of feet above the jagged rocks and crashing waves. i want to be launched into some spiraling supernova sunfire. i want to be twisted in some grand cataclysmic celestial event. i almost need it.

i long to be devoured in flames and beauty, to be set ablaze and unfurl across a dull, grey sky. some sort of escape. i mean, we're trapped inside these bodies for oh so long sometimes. how many days in a row do we wake up in the same world? how many weeks in a row have we drove through the same traffic? how many times do we look in the mirror and see the same person? life is awesome and all, but.... what is out there? what am i missing? what facet of living is yet to be discovered? what happens on the other side of life? is this step 1 of a 40-step program called 'Life, Death, and Beyond'?

i know most of us play it safe, myself especially (living at home, working for my parents, girlfriend up the street). it's tough for people to burn, burn, burn in this life because, frankly, it could be that this is it. no second chances. no start-overs. and that scares people and i understand why. it scares me, too.

but i just wonder what happens when you shake things up. maybe it's not so much about escaping 'life' as it is just escaping 'predictability'. escaping 'immobility'. i not only want to live, i want to live to the fullest. i want to taste every one of life's flavors. i want to punch random strangers in suits, i want to donate all of my money to a country musician i've never heard of, i want to climb a corporate building wearing a nixon mask, i want to have sex with the pope on a nationally televised episode of Oprah.

i want to do any and everything i can outside of 'normal'.

the repetitive nature of our lives just wears on the brain. my conscious can only take it so long before it needs change. maybe it's some inner, hopeless life-version of ADD. maybe it's a deep-rooted Fruedian obsessions with weiners. maybe i'm totally nuts and i really do have some serious self-destructive depressive urge towards suicide. but i think it's something else.

life, literally, is literally too short, literally. (to use a cliche').

and while yes, sometimes i do want to die flaming in an indy stock car hurtling off the Golden Gate bridge while listening to 'In Flames-The Hive' there are other things i want to do while alive as well. Like wake up an hour early and smoke a cigar and go for a walk before work one day. Or take a train somewhere west of West Chester (I've never been farther west). just, escape the mundane. and maybe that's how it happens--just one simple step at a time. maybe i'll do hundreds of simple, tiny side-steps in life before i finally go covered in gasoline into the night air, free-falling from a plane without a parachute, hurtling down towards the earth like some shooting star, aimed directly at Freddy Hill.

so here's to those avatar goons, here's to those that read this, here's to the kids who dress up like superman, here's to the pope and his sweet ass, and here's to the hope that we all burn out bright into the night, raging, uncontrollable unconsolable infernos because --fuck it, that's all that's left to do in the end. and i want it.

yearnin' and burnin'.




PS - i'm telling you-- i'm going to go to europe alone in the next year. and oh, i'll DO it.
i'm inSANE.















my avatar name woulda been:
AgroCrag

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Primal Grooves

i was searching youtube for some sweet-ass bass and/or drum jams and i happened upon a real gem. one of those low-down grooves that soaks you all the way to your toes and you hear it echo in your head, in your fingers, in your dinner and in every other song you hear.

you have to go back and listen to it even if it means risking further addiction to the song. And i did. And it did.

and it was enough to drive a man mad...... or write a poem.







so i listened to this song on repeat like 400x while i wrote it and edited it. to get the full effect you have to open the song up and listen while you read it. they just 'have' to go together for some reason. give it a shot.

(couldn't figure out how to get it to open in new window, right-click and do it yourself)

Sei Bass Jam


Primal Grooves

yes, the subject is fresh.
yes, it leaks out of skin.
-it branches itself out.
.it comes from within-

until this whole tree-
until these veins whole-
blend in \ to one earth
bleed in \ to one girth

a tone, like our sun,
bright woven jaden silk-

-hiding under in-time,
skewed all in off-rhyme-

the low-down grunge "growl".
decibels, dripping on down.
Listen these sounds full-swell
warmth:
of the color brown.

it is what it will was--
cooling hotness gone 'wry.
fingers rip harmonic vines,
tearing up in frett'd lines

the oct*ave power 8,
blue shift: to s l o w down time.
love lost's lusts create.
nature's thump, a groove divine.

it reaches branch to branch
swinging tendril till enhance
the core. the breath. the dance.

you groove 'full in
you groove 'half out
don't stop. don't think or care.
do it with unwavering flare_

[it's alive. it's inside.
glowing growing groots]
it's spiral-synapse shaded green.
this vel-vet touch, yet still unseen.

eternal unconstant,
the black behind our space,
a million heartbeat journey,
this call: to 'Funkin' bass--


Wednesday, December 23, 2009

dEAR DiArY

So i was walking along out front of my house yesterday, minding my own business, reflecting on life and how I could better children's lives and shit when I found this diary. I mean, there's snow and shit everywhere from the 'Blizzard to End All Blizzards' last week and my foot just sorta hit something hard sticking out of the snow.

I bend over to pick it up and it's this flowery pink mini-book that just reads "DiArY" (with the caps just like that) and a broken lock on the side. I look around, pick it up and hey--why not look inside? Maybe it's got a name or an address or something inside.

Nope, nothin.

I kinda read a couple sentences, it's all done in green pen and the pages all have faded gay flower backgrounds. Cursive. Alot of underlining and bolding. Loopy L's and hearts over random letters. What do I care about some teenage girls diary, right?

I'm about to throw it as far as I can behind these houses in spite (I am, after all, a dude) but during the wind-up-

CRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

I am a dude. And it was only 7pm. But that was the biggest, blackest, loudest crow I'd ever heard in my entire life. And we don't get crows here in Lansdale. Some shit was definitely going down. I froze and watched that sucker perch on a tree across the street and just look at me.

Again, I am a dude. And I am NOT superstitious but... I don't know I just felt like going home right quick. And it was getting cold and everything. And in my surprise I guess I put the diary in my coat pocket and forgot about it--even though, it's weird, I don't remember ever putting the book in my pocket.

Anyhow, later that night I found the book on my computer desk. I guess I took it out of my pocket and put it there. And I started idly leafing through it and trying to get a feel for who's diary this was.

Was she a nerd? Could she be a hot 20-something year old? How was her grammar? (I really, literally, actually thought that. English major disease.)

I decided I just had to share what I found. For fun. I'll try my best, but I don't know that I can manage all the bold, italics, underlining, misspellings and emotion she really put into it.


Here's a cute little part:



















dEAR DiArY,
i know its been awhile since we talked. its been like ages, am i right? (or am i right!?) and ive done soooooo much at school it's like crazy!!! ive got homework from mr. cadmere again, can you believe it? i mean THAT for starters. than there's all sorts of THINGS been happening between kara and me again but its totally not true i like jimmy stiffle -- he totally blows his nose practically allllll the tiiiimeeeee. maybe if i was a giant tissue box. hahahaaa shes so retarted sometimes it's like duhhhhhhh kara, but i need her for the dance her dad is gonna get us like a limo or a escalade or a something really expensive and i dont want her to just go with jules and sarah and them without mEE. and did you know fishes can not swim backwards diarY? HaahHa i learned that today in school and then totally was BoRRReeeeddddddd for like 10 strait hours for nothing. but i feel good again today diarYYYY!! except sometimes my nose it still has the pain. it still comes and my head starts to hurt and it's like someone is squeezing in my brain and there are dark clouds everywhere. my mom says maybe its migrains and the hay and everything but i dont like it. i just wish it would stop the red the RewD RED red the red
[note: there were splashes of dark red on this page but the girl apparently ignored it and kept writing over it] reddddDDdd ..... <3>kill my family especially my brother dillan who's the most retarted in the family. tHe whole family thinks he's going to go to a smart high school and that's all they talk about and he'll run for preSiDenT and it's like i dont even exist anymore. weLL DiArY i probbly have to go lay down and do homewOrk or something my head is starting to KIlllllll again and my stomach hurts and the stupid bird is outside my window again i hate that bird i hate it HATE IT HATE ITTTTTTT that bird i want to kill it i want to KiLLll it i hate IT its looking at me that crow. it crWWW its aLWAYS looking at me and I need to kiLL trhe PResident kill the bird Fcckkkk theFFFF the PRESIdent I need kiiiiiiiiii- [note: there are strange symbols and markings I can't recreate with the computer etched into the page here] -to lay down i don't feel good no more but it was good to catch up and i guess ill prob write in you again before the big dance next week and i dont even know if i want to ask anyone, especially not jimmy stiffle and i dont care what kara says i Don't Like Him!!! i know jules is going without anyone so ill prob just go with herr and it'll be so much fun!!

PS - totally hate homework today!!! :-# !!!!!










I figured the grammar wasn't too hot, probably your stereotypical 7th grade teeny bopper girl. Spelling was a little off for her age group but kids these days are ruined by the internet and text messaging. It's only a matter of generations before we writers are heralded as either a) gods among men with doctor-like intelligence or b) archaic useless paleontologists who might as well sign up as trash collectors.

Whichever it is, I've still been reading more into this diarY to try and get a read on something I can't put my finger on. Something is just a little 'off' about these entries and I can't quite figure it out. I'm sure it's something stupid or as simple as 'she doesn't use apostrophes correctly.' Ahh the youth of today. Bunch of crazy little flip-a-shits. I should throw this stupid diary out but I just... can't. It's weird.

Anyway I'd transcribe another entry but my head is fucking kiLLing me. Maybe I'll try to get my hands on some perks and pop some of them suckers and sip on some Sailor Jerry's--that's mother nature's cure. I hope it doesn't have to do with these damned nose bleeds I've been getting. Until next time, my bLoG....



PS - I did the math. Even if the Flyers won the rest of their games and all the top teams lost over 50% of the rest of theirs, we'd have about a 2% shot at capturing the PresiENts trophy.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Hair --- i have it.


















this is what i have.


it's thick.
it's luscious.
it's creamy.
it's metal.
it's mine.

Sucksin A. Dixxx