brickwallviews

Capitalism is the new Gateway Drug

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almost enough is plenty.**

*except when considering Arsenal's goal-difference.

**42 years in the learning.

nick flynn interview and such

more appropriation on my part.

new nick flynn book yo!

 

and a wee interview here.

over.

don't smoke don't drink what do I do?

yea yea, still working on getting my act together...

but hey! in the meantime... read some good 'ol queer/vegan/socialist p-rock ramblings from the kings of politico-hockey core... it'll be fun...

I'm not going to try to tell you that I'm different from all the rest.
I've been subject to the same de-structure of desire and I've felt the same effects;
I'm a hetero-sexist tragedy.
And potential rapists all are we.
But don't tell me this is natural.
This is nurturing.
And there's a difference between sexism and sexuality.
I had different desires prior to my role-remodelling.
And at six years of age you don't challenge their claims.
You become the same.
(Or withdraw from the game and hang your head in shame).
I think that's exactly what I did.
I tried to sever the connections between me and them.
I fought against their further attempts to convince a kid
that birthright can bestow the power to yield the subordination
of women and do you know what patricentricity means?
I found out just a couple of days/months/years/minutes ago.
It means male values uber alles and hey!
Whaddaya know... sex has been distorted and vilified.
I'm scared of my attraction to body types.
If everything desired is objectified then maybe eroticism needs to be redefined.
And I refuse to be a "man".

-Propagandhi, "Refusing To Be A Man" from the "Less Talk, More Rock" album (1996)

who-dat nation rolls toward north havana...

out.

under construction

me, not the blog.

back real soon.

like for reals.

"Closure" is a pop-culture myth

or at least highly overrated.

out.

eggers does sendak… sorta.

 

 

 

 

you can buy bone-cutting saws online ya know.

 

 

oh, and enough with the aging-punk-rockers-do-acoustic-album thing. tie  erd.

 

out.

buttsweat and tears

 

 

 

arsenal 6 – 2 blackburn

 

 

 

“you’ll have to excuse him, he bleeds easily.”

 

out.

meat is for pussies

not my words… john joseph’s (cro mags) new book… i’m no burger hater, but i do like the title.

 

blog editor #3 here… it’s all

 

 

 

 

about

 

the

 

 

 

 

line

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

spacing.

 

enough with the “awwwww Chicago didn’t get the Olympics”. who cares. the olympics are weak. ‘bout time we (u s of a) lay a little low on the world stage anyway, no? i mean really now.

we whine about such benign matters while samoans and indonesians troll for their dead.

easy.

anyway, perhaps chi-town could have used all that bid money on, i dunno, fielding an “actual” professional baseball team. just an observation.

 

“don’t do it Fred, he’s not worth it!”

 

out.

cop shoot cop-out

yesterday's post would have been much more effective had the line-spacing displayed as intended.

(ed. note: one is truly bottom-feeding when line-spacing is the "big draw" in one's content. carry on.)

anyhoo, trying this new post editor, inferring there will actually be "posts".

so, the cop-out then...

The boards,
they bounce up and down in an abandoned house.
Amps exploding,
and our ears bleed red - but we yell out every note.

In the kitchen you tell me ‘bout the evils of the world.
Swallow hard on every truth that’s been fermenting in your throat.

Know that’s it’s my luck I’m leaving,
I met you once when I was dreaming.
I’m waiting for a spark to reignite.
Lie to me, I love believing.
Take the mundane, look for meaning in everything,
you’re everything tonight.

On the lawn outside Gabe shoots bottle rockets through the night,
lighting up the summer sky.

Catch fire,
I’m burning up with you.
Something in the air makes me wonder
why the hell I’d care about tomorrow
when it’s all right here - the wine the hope and you.

So I hit the road;
wheeled the van off of the grass and drove.
Miles slipped in between of you and me,
it’s what I always do.
And in the morning all that fills me is regret.
I know I’ve traded winning hands for losing bets.
The moment’s gone.

-banner pilot, greenwood (2009)

so cool, creative slump... just steal appropriate.

go gunners!

out.

pipe wrenches and pipe dreams

if this wee blog was a natural disaster we would have clearly moved beyond search-and-rescue and are now well into bringing-out-the-dead mode!

good god, talk about lazy.

"be careful with that... there's children in the next room!"

stay tuned.

please.

out.

buy (or steal) this:

 

nothington "roads, bridges and ruins" (byo records, Oct 2009)