january 12 1988: i was born
january 13 1988: tatev abrahamyan was born
january 15 1988: sonny moore was born
sonny moore is the singer for the band from first to last. they were signed to epitaph records in 2004. they are now signed to capitol records.
tatev abrahamyan is is the youngest top rated us woman's chess player. she holds the woman international master title and is rated 2220 by fide.
i am 5:09 PM 11/5/2006 and it was nice knowing you all.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
man overboard
jonah was a whaler.
jonah was a poacher.
jonah was a sleepercell.
jonah was a double agent.
jonah was a guerrilla.
jonah was a commodity fetishist.
jonah was a hipster.
jonah was a cutter.
jonah was a smoke signal.
jonah was a karma con artist.
jonah was a door to door salesman,
jonah was a man overboard.
jonah was a poacher.
jonah was a sleepercell.
jonah was a double agent.
jonah was a guerrilla.
jonah was a commodity fetishist.
jonah was a hipster.
jonah was a cutter.
jonah was a smoke signal.
jonah was a karma con artist.
jonah was a door to door salesman,
peddling dragon bones and horse teeth to pay his way through
medical school.
jonah was a amateur radio operator.medical school.
jonah was a man overboard.
Bogart an Apartheid
Faces like noble wolves, held to granite altars by oxblood boot straps, fangs snubbed short by guillotine-style cigar cutters, cowlick Mohawks scalped off, eyes died blue.
Dazed zombies emerge from the dungeons and caves to work the fields...
A coxcomb Cyclops sun eats through cotton-filled ears, apocalypse blizzards cut muscles clean from bones. Primordial forests still haunted by the ghosts of druids and dryads hold hordes of renegade trolls, muskets in their claws, bandannas over nose-holes, black blood in iron pots over cinders and coals. Ironwood crosses and hangmen stockades line the road to new Roma,infidels stung-up on telephone poles, ribcages exposed.
In a nearby culvert, the sewer rat grips a water-logged dictionary in his Darwined fingers. The nicotine black hole in his starving arm is nearly as large as his heavy eyes, so the pen must still be wet. Gas masks always fit better when you’re starving.
Crushed turtles shells dust the Oysterman’s fingers. Frog’s blood runs through those hard plastic tubes in his thighs and neck. The fish slime doesn’t ever really come off; it just dries in crystals that hug the skin. Eggs come in strings and sacs and shells, but they all slide down your throat like a warm, yolky, pre-Cambrian afterbirth. They all settle in your stomach, a lubricated membrane in rich, tepid quicksand.
Dazed zombies emerge from the dungeons and caves to work the fields...
A coxcomb Cyclops sun eats through cotton-filled ears, apocalypse blizzards cut muscles clean from bones. Primordial forests still haunted by the ghosts of druids and dryads hold hordes of renegade trolls, muskets in their claws, bandannas over nose-holes, black blood in iron pots over cinders and coals. Ironwood crosses and hangmen stockades line the road to new Roma,infidels stung-up on telephone poles, ribcages exposed.
In a nearby culvert, the sewer rat grips a water-logged dictionary in his Darwined fingers. The nicotine black hole in his starving arm is nearly as large as his heavy eyes, so the pen must still be wet. Gas masks always fit better when you’re starving.
Crushed turtles shells dust the Oysterman’s fingers. Frog’s blood runs through those hard plastic tubes in his thighs and neck. The fish slime doesn’t ever really come off; it just dries in crystals that hug the skin. Eggs come in strings and sacs and shells, but they all slide down your throat like a warm, yolky, pre-Cambrian afterbirth. They all settle in your stomach, a lubricated membrane in rich, tepid quicksand.
Amateur Auteur #untitled
A ghostfaced boy, silent like a good movie,
floating on spider-silk tripwires through a wax minefield:
Smile :: pig knuckles
Grimace :: milk-teeth
Smile :: surreptitious self
Grimace :: karma kills a beetle.
Feedback loops replace pacifiers until we're no better than the may-flies choking the faux-tel pool.
I hot-box my skull until my drunkmath brain bleeds serotonin.
I chase tired whodunits through 50 years of 50's cinema just to hide under my tongue the same pills that were illegal last year.
The blackened factories will take commissions for any snuff film just to keep the coffers full of monopoly money:
"Don't listen; all peasants want is to build huts and wait for them to be burnt down."
A ghostfaced boy, silent like a good movie,
dog-paddling through the lagoon of human sewage with both Van Goghs intact and a cosmetics mirror clenched in his teeth.
Diving for the x-rayed bones of ex-presidents and cavemen.
floating on spider-silk tripwires through a wax minefield:
Smile :: pig knuckles
Grimace :: milk-teeth
Smile :: surreptitious self
Grimace :: karma kills a beetle.
Feedback loops replace pacifiers until we're no better than the may-flies choking the faux-tel pool.
I hot-box my skull until my drunkmath brain bleeds serotonin.
I chase tired whodunits through 50 years of 50's cinema just to hide under my tongue the same pills that were illegal last year.
The blackened factories will take commissions for any snuff film just to keep the coffers full of monopoly money:
"Don't listen; all peasants want is to build huts and wait for them to be burnt down."
A ghostfaced boy, silent like a good movie,
dog-paddling through the lagoon of human sewage with both Van Goghs intact and a cosmetics mirror clenched in his teeth.
Diving for the x-rayed bones of ex-presidents and cavemen.
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