Sunday, March 28, 2010
my other bike is a bike
"you were a huge dick last night, kept mocking my haircut while i carried you." -s. pearson
i couldn't walk standing straight up.
my back was an arch as i bounced down granville street.
arms flailing, people killing.
some nights, i am simply unsafe.
what with the drinking and the craziness.
concerts cut me open, and the insults pour all over everything.
bike was amazing last night.
soon after their set, the dam broke, and the rest of the night is a blur.
im already writing a song about it.
friday night was an adventure of its own, but thats another song.
i know i know, writing about it doesn't make it right.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
clean hand
i drank at the cambie tonight with cammy and claire.
good times, of course.
but what they missed, was the train ride home.
apparently a tim mcgraw concert had just ended.
so when the nice calm trainride hit stadium, chaos got invented.
first thing i saw was a guy covered in blood, instead of a shirt.
with 3 cops surrounding him.
a girl sat down next to me and said "hey, that was the first guy that jumped on stage!"
i said "looks like a good move."
she said "the bouncers must have done that!"
i said "the bouncers probably threw him outside, and his blind jungle adventure across the street to the train station must have done that."
she agreed, not really.
i was suddenly surrounded by legions of drunk cowgirls and angry cowboys.
all shooting their guns off at the same time.
so i just chilled, and enjoyed the luscious landscape.
had a blast.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
sorry if i ruined your day
weekends were built to be destroyed.
i remember breakfast, then golfing, then nothing.
a shot called a 'grenade,' which i think was more like 2 shots.
shots, shots, shots.
i also remember running and screaming at the same time.
not an easy task, trust me.
the killing game continues.
lush and plenty, these lost feelings of yesteryear.
negative positivity never smelt so great.
beep beep richie.
im thirsty for malts.
that's not true, ya it is.
our album sounds really good, almost done.
i blast it against the walls of this seaside condo.
and theo hides under the bed.
dancing is supposed to be fun.
but every time i do it, people look scared.
especially when i do the dirty-double-bunk-ba-cue.
not sure why.
better keep practicing.
and theo hides under the bed.
so, after whatever happened last night, im taking it real easy today.
replenishing fluids and self-confidence.
healing and howling.
down by the green river, where paradise lay.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
the dark-haired girl from the fiction department
my vice is performance.
last night exploded, and the air-time was enjoyed.
i had a blast.
music can be a job.
if given enough hours.
my bandmates and i made about 200 bucks an hour last night, each.
for 45 minutes of work, after 45 hours of practice.
and a box of shitty t-shirts that must've smelt like gold, cause we sold hundreds.
holy damn, those shirts looked good, all over everyone.
i love writing radio commercials in the 2nd largest advertising market in canada.
but i would also love doing what i did last night, every night.
until then, i'll keep my head, and my job, and writing better songs.
as sweaty as i got, it felt like forehead tears of joy.
the duke jumped, my brother slaved, and the shafe saved.afterwords, i demanded 10 free beers from bonus wilson.
the skytrain ride home...well that's another story.
me and the duke made friends right away.
with 2 dudes, and several scared girls.
im pretty sure the dudes spoke arabic.
when i explained our band name, they looked offended.
i was slightly offended by the way one of them helped a chick who was puking everywhere, by holding her head aggressively as the black shit poured out all over the train floor. luckily columbia was the very next stop.
now its saturday night, and im home alone.
had some friends over for the nucks destruction earlier, but they is long gone.
so i got green, clean, and mean.
and now here's me, pleasing and thanking, them dreams we yet to have seen.
and obviously theo ate all the weed.
Friday, March 5, 2010
iSpill
fall bombs breed new and exciting things.
surprises buried in basements.
golden tickets in chocolate bars and oil after earthquakes.
me, im safe at jakes getting wasted, cause you guys were too stupid to come here, and be safe.
im a kettle, about to boil.
soon to be all boiled and shit.
a hard boiled happy clapper.
haven't played a solo acoustic show in a long time.
cept for campfires and forgotten friday nights.
tomorrow is gonna be fun.
a concert in support of this local hero.
when the conversation turns to politics, some people like to leave the room.
some people(me) get all rowdy and shoot-off hard about the obvious.
and a rare few offer actual educated opinions, observations, and options.
james is one of those rare few, and i am honored to support his fun-raising event.
bugsy jive will grab your soul.
ruskin will swallow it whole.
i will open the show, trying to pry drinks from the fundraising committee.
that's tomorrow, sat mar 6th, at The Arms Pub in beautiful Port Coquitlam.
be there, or be without a 4-wheeler.
Monday, March 1, 2010
17 days
what is tomorrow gonna feel like?
without that daily injection of uber-pride.
that stiff patriotic stab of adrenalin to the heart.
downtown was un-real tonight.
it was as if somebody gave free ecstasy to 50 thousand people.
with victory as the music bed, and high-fives instead of gum.
i will certainly miss these olympic games.
and i am humbled and amazed by the feelings they made me feel.
when life throws us moguls, we canadians bend our knees.
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