Sunday, January 31, 2010
no students work for me
goals for today:
1. swiffer sweep.
2. make spicy omelet wrap.
3. listen to every NOFX song ever recorded (5 hours 16 min.)
4. repeat.
i may be slightly attractive again, but the troubles only rotate.
i still fill, fall, burn, and brawl.
roll huge snowballs down hills into traffic and explode with applause.
it hasnt snowed yet.
winter forgot about itself down here.
its a shock to the system, after spending 2.5 of the last 5 years in winter.
i miss it, not really.
how did i get home last night?
i usually chat it up big time with cab drivers.
not sure if i did last night, its gone.
solo acoustic show - mar 6th at the arms pub in poco.
YOU BIG IDIOT show - mar 12th at the cellar on granville.
so i have laps to do around this seaside condo.
J.D. Salinger changed my life in the 50's.
then hid in a closet for 40 years until he died a couple days ago.
but those New Hampshire walls couldn't stop millions of people from living inside him.
and inviting more to move in, every day.
that reminds me, andy has my latest copy, 5th in a series of missing persons.
his death further exploded my brain-thinking that proof rules.
if you wish to have lasting effect, you must have proof.
whether or not you hide from your creations.
so i am forced to multiply my productivity, starting now.
but wait a second, im baked on weedjitas.
pronounced: like fajitas, but with weed.
there's no hope with dope.
theo's roman name is theonitis.
pronounced: theo-knight-us.
as a writer, im an expert at phonetics.
onward and upward, as they say.
another song, another day.
the future smells great.
when life hands me waffle mix, i make pancakes.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
meg's birthday wine
im still wearing my cowboy costume.
and it looks like im good at fixing fences.
mike wrote me a song and i keep it right here in my front pocket.
curl up to the keyboard, lets have a moment.
every sunday is the same, i am weak and depleted, but loud at restaurants.
'loud funny' ill call it.
when something is only funny because left-over-drunk colin is yelling it.
i write lots on sundays.
songs, stories, scriptures, scenes.
being single is incredibly productive.
i pound music in my concrete condo.
and do laps.
and make donairs.
a weekend spent with mike erickson, is better than a weekend spent in disneyland. stranger, more colorful characters emerge, and blanket you with obscure gestures and polytechnic death grips. mike is mickey mouse, the leader, loved, respected, under-paid, and always smiling.
opportunity is down the hall, but its warm and dry right here.
my lyrics are getting dumber but my songs are getting better.
maybe dumb is the new awesomtastic.
if not, i stills have my fun memories.
see, i was cool then.
and ill be cool again soon, once our new band explodes.
i do miss that band alot.
life is a tree fort, the fun part is building it.
me, i plan attics, on top of attics.
with windows facing an endless skyline.
andy drinks meg's birthday wine. he drinks it up.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
there are no ghosts in the oven
establishment expands on stubborn sundays.
my home stereo system, although often good, is equally often bad.
sometimes paints the walls, sometimes crashes the volvo into the living room.
i pretend to have identified the problem, and thus the possible solution.
react, replace, then roll off into space.
pull fast punches, piss on face, etc.
everyone speaks easy, at the speak easy.
"not me, im all breezy" -s. deezey
"his photography is tantalizing, triumphant, and terrorized!" -demons weekly
join now, its free.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
here comes the drain
i taped waterworld earlier today on my fancy tv recorder box.
and sprang to life, seconds ago, when i remembered my brilliant decision.
so, its my loud background right now, expect quotes.
i was probably over the limit this morning.
a product of post concert greatness.
first time ive hit a drive-thru on the way to work.
bike is such an amazing band.
just slaughtered me last night.
proof that practice makes perfect.
maybe smokers, maybe slavers.
i just want 1 sip of hydro.
it'll cost you, half your chitts.
theo is attacking my bike setlist.
a trophy that only those who were there will understand.
so, he's jealous.
well, do something, i hate sails.
our band is going half-way across canada.
playing shows every day, in every town, on the way to saskatoon.
because NOFX plays there on sunday april 25th.
so the tour is called "Tour to NOFX"
HEY MIDDLE CANADA FRIENDS:
apr 21 - vancouver
apr 22 - kamloops
apr 23 - calgary
apr 24 - saskatoon
apr 25 - NOFX
apr 26 - drive home
apr 27 - still driving home
ill give the real details when they actually exist.
being in this band is funner than wing night at the cheap beer place.
dry land is a myth.
but ive seen it, with my own eyes.
getting back there aint easy.
but im on my way.
im a fan of you like you are fan of me -andy
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
sack-relidious
i never win anymore.
chicks dont even look at me unless im dancing or screaming or passed out in the garden. but even then, when i wake up and say "hey, im a flower, got some water?", they just dump their palm bay in my lap. so now, my already piss-stained pants, smell like girl-booze. takes alota gin to get that smell out.
but, as is life, we all land on free parking once-in-a-while.
dice dont discriminate against artsy fat guys with liar bi-ceps.
they just want a surface in which to tumble our fate freely.
gambling rules, kid.
when this is over im gonna write a beautiful song about it.
which i wont be able to sing properly.
but enough for me to feel that rad feeling i feel everytime i finish anything.
the wave crashes over, exhale.
the canucks won, i was there.
but not for the 1st period.
was at a bar next to GM Place watching Canada come back late in the 3rd, only to loose in overtime to the hated south.
but wow, what a comeback.
see, even Team Canada loses sometimes, kid.
well, its my roll now, and i need 11.
piece of cake, for messier.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
come back, kid
"the air is way less violent up here!"
i should have yelled that at them.
the backpack warriors on the platform.
oh the sweet words that breed from pre-fight aggression.
wasn't much of a fight, not really.
but both backpacks dropped like fancy boxer robes at exactly the same time, and they both had whiney managers shouting from the sidelines. the louder/drunker/smaller of the 2 took a couple head shots, then basically ducked away, grabbed his backpack and ran off around to the stairs, upon which i heard a disturbing skin-smacking-concrete-stairs sound, which could have been any number of horrifying things. i cant see the stairs from my stalk-tower, but it didnt look like anyone was calling an ambulance so maybe he landed the backflip or rail-slide to the bottom of everything.
this has been a great vacation, but its time to get back at it.
my inner-clock is totally screwed, while my alarm clock jealously awaits its turn.
tomorrow is re-bound day, featuring vegetables, laundry, and band practice.
an early night, for a better morning.
i dont call them new years resolutions, i call them post-crazy-drunk-christmas-vacation-self-realizations-that-must-be-corrected-immediately.
whatever we call them, they all start on monday, so traffic is gonna suck ass.
wow, i guess i just spoiled my positivity for some sort of 'its been a great decade...' stuff. although it has been. but im probably too young to properly dissect decades. more like sub-decades. "ya man, the sub-deck gave us some great music, pass the screaming saucers!!!"
go go gadjet gong show.
spent half the decade in prince george.
learned about winter, radio, golf, and alcohol.
made best friends, kissed pretty girls, and sang silly songs.
in 20 years when i look back on this decade, it will be all PG.
that, and grad, i suppose.
new decade = new suit.
and mine is very special.
rude, loud, and as sharp as a blender.
i drink your milkshake. i drink it up.
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