tempered in a foreign flame |
nashville, i hate you. with all my heart. and i love you, too. (isn't that how it always ends up?)while i lived in you, i discovered all the things about myself i needed to cease, before they ruined m...
Posted by on Wed, 18 Feb 2009 18:28:00 GMT |
pay the writer! |
mr. harlan ellison...
Posted by on Tue, 27 Jan 2009 19:26:00 GMT |
the burial of the dead |
my favorite excerpted poem. i first discovered these lines in part from a king crimson song, then later on a curious postcard handed to me by a stranger on a bus neither of us were supposed to be on, ...
Posted by on Thu, 16 Oct 2008 06:11:00 GMT |
play with fire is still awesome. |
yes it is.
Posted by on Wed, 15 Oct 2008 03:48:00 GMT |
global financial crisis |
extracted from a letter to a dear friend of mine:they say the world as we know it is ending. that the greatest catastrophe of civilization is one not of insatiable flame, nor one of copious blundering...
Posted by on Tue, 07 Oct 2008 00:32:00 GMT |
more elephant talk |
man, the past couple posts to this blog from me make me seem like your average deep emo downer or something. it's cute. but these posts are just some random singular moments that achieved emphasis by ...
Posted by on Sun, 05 Oct 2008 23:33:00 GMT |
there is a place |
so dave berman and his silver jews are coming to town in a day or three, and i was listening to their stuff. one pretty song had these lyrics. i liked them. There is a place past the bluesI never want...
Posted by on Sat, 27 Sep 2008 21:11:00 GMT |
a voice from your past... |
i can't believe who just contacted me out of the blue. i just can't believe it. i feel sick. i feel useless. i feel crazy. oh man, i don't know what i feel. basically, everything i am, everything i ha...
Posted by on Wed, 17 Sep 2008 01:48:00 GMT |
new spark plug. |
so i've not written a blog, or anything else much besides my own name on credit receipts in like a thousand years. damn poor form for an attempted writing career. and this isn't much more than that, e...
Posted by on Sun, 31 Aug 2008 04:26:00 GMT |
selections from Pulp, by dirty old charlie b. |
here is where i will post sweet ass selections from bukowski's final novel, Pulp."Now, I mean, it just wasn't fair. Her dress fit so tight it almost split the seams. Too many chocolate malts. And she ...
Posted by on Tue, 20 May 2008 15:21:00 GMT |
