writing

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 06:54:00 +0000

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.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 08:46:00 +0000

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.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 04:37:00 +0000

fatriotism

the site was gone for a while.
im not sure where it went, but now its back.
fucked off for the olympics i guess.
in the meantime, i documented a few of my olympic experiences in the river.
along with my river-swimming friends.

i thrive on these great tests of athleticism and endurance and courage.
these apostles we worship, as they battle for treasure.
within our very own castle walls.
in victory, held higher than heroes of war.
in defeat, cast aside with shame at their feet.
all painted brightly, on my old friend, TV.

strange feeling this patriotism.
strange and wonderful and nervous and joyous and destroyable.
like booze, but without the syrup shits.

after last night, im right here with everyone else in the country.
jacked full of pride and power.
pomp and circumstance.
fear and fearlessness.

some TV guy called yesterday 'wonderful wednesday'.
so i wrote it on my pad, to remind me.
on the way home from the hockey game, i heard the bobsled victory live on the radio.
smiles on highways.

i remember writing years ago about how the CBC used to air the gold medal game from 2002, late at night, about once a month, and id come home all shitty and pass out all happy.

but, of course, we mustn't get ahead of ourselves, and play it 1 game at a time.

these games have brought together patriotism and partyotism.
i have over-indulged and under-slept.
screamed in victory, screamed in defeat.

words dont well describe the feeling in the city.
a socket-set of separate sizes.
each with their own special spot.

pride is a passionate beast.
it lets the pit bull off the leash.
and swallows work-day afternoons.

well, on we go, with flags in the streets.
stomping hands and clapping feet.
screaming in victory, screaming in defeat.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 05:37:00 +0000

the best paste is in the middle of the tube

i was in the shower, naked and steaming, at peace with the world, when i heard the screaming.

people-on-fire-style screaming.
i jumped out of the shower, naked and soaking, and ran out to the living room.
screaming, screaming, SCREAMING.
turned off tv, turned off speakers, head shaking, SCREAMING, smoke alarm???
oh ya...the smoke alarm...i did have a hellava good steam going.
someone with binoculars across the water must have seen a hellava show.

all part of the pre-game superbowl preparation.
at which i drank 6 tall boys, and won 40 bucks.
and enjoyed the underdog victory awesomeness.

so now im all hot and bothered.
feeling great and shit.
godda dumb myself down with something.
maybe another smoke-alarm-scream-fest.
nah, that shit scared the shit outta me.

and now, the world arrives.
drinks get topped, cars get stopped, hope no bombs get dropped.
i get to work 10-6 cause richmond will be a coke bottle full of old rusty ketchup.
out of place, and moving at a snails pace.

as usual, weekends fill me up.
so much so, that sleep is the only cure.
so to sleep i must go, right now, after stuffing some water home.

oh me, climbing hills, then rolling down.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 04:51:00 +0000

ova, anova

"alota things have been going around about me, but none of it's true."

i spice my salad with cigarette butts.

well, we got pre-mix-#1 of our new album yesterday.
its faster than eckly kid's porn career.
i like watering it, talking to it, etc.

every time i make an album, its the only thing i think about, at all times.

i caulked the wagon and floated,
with a patch on my eye, and a gut that is bloated.
i tell all the ladies im loaded,
and when my cannon fires, your boat gets exploded.

tonight, ive been really good to me, a nice dinner, and tons of great music.
lotsa nofx and alexisonfire's first album.
heckava great first album.

ours = prolly not as good.
but still real real good.
in the words of my friend SD: "pew pew pew...this gives me wayser beams!"

self gifts are better than real gifts, cause only you know exactly what you want.

my favorite thing about new technology is the fancy-TV-taping-thing that i have.
last night, before i went to destroy myself at andys, i recorded a very special movie.
and now im watching it, a whole day later.
its like a VCR, without the shame.
and i get to watch the neverending story like a proper new west gladiator.

its a good movie, cause it raised me.
other movies are better.
none of you have watched the fountain properly.
alone, in the dark, with a marijuana cigarette.
very few movies change me.

i got more, but everything is spinning around in circles of yarn.

some nights, im just a carousel,
playing that same old song,
over and over again.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 04:08:00 +0000

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.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 23:47:00 +0000

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.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 07:24:00 +0000

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.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sat, 16 Jan 2010 09:26:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 06:37:00 +0000

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.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 08:53:00 +0000

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.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 07:57:00 +0000

soft eyes, windy smiles

everybody else has already made better quotes.

"showers and myself have a strained relationship, because they are so necessary after work, and after drinking, i take about 14 a week, i start to hate them." -dandy shan

theo takes naps in laps like great beaches in famous wars.
i accept defeat and loose my knees until i have to pee or my drink is empty.
in this case, he looks thirstier than me.

i cant write the right song.
its like before the matt good contest, im all strung out and lacktiviting.
pacing around with red wine and pancakes.

"im ambitious, when giving up." -dandy mangan

there's nothing soft about fizzy drinks.
barefoot backflips over kitchen sinks.
stare strong at the barbecue until the steak un-pinks.

video games killed action figures.
i hate that too, but lets move on.
i smell a rowdy amongst the midst.

most of my best friends are called steve.
some and bester than others.
some and blurster than others.

happy holidays, all steves.

and to the rest of you, a good night.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 08:06:00 +0000

instant crashic

just opened the patio door to yet another violent altercation.
between women, yet again.
ive witnessed more girl fights than guy fights from up here.
tonight was a tag team battle with 2 on 2 jump-in-illegally action.
a skycop came eventually and separated them, with a rainbow of screams in between.
i like it here.

the dimmer on my living room light gets heavy use.
incense burns as i try to seduce my ideas.
settle december weaponry, its giving me a headache.

16 hours at armoury studios on thursday.
me and the boys cut an album, a very fast album.
you'll hear it soon, then feel like its hot dog day in grade 3.
when it was girls against guys, and whoever got back to the classroom the fastest won. i was a no-condiment man for many years as a result of those battles. and to this day, i am still mocked for eating raw kaiser buns by brenton steel-wool renton elliott. he lives in japan, and missed sach's bday tonight. but was spoken of in high taste and manor.

time out.

now i have cereal, and you don't.
sorry, help yourself.
sorry, only skim.

im having a hard time with track 6.
written (or more like started) 3 songs already, but none feel right.
i try to start with a name, then not, start with a rhyme, then not.
its gonna come, i just gotta catch the right train.
not that scott road bastard.

sips and slides.
its hard to read the label from inside the bottle.
the desperation's back.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sun, 13 Dec 2009 19:19:00 +0000

you should come with severance pay

i am loud and complicated.
bad at listening, good at floors.
help the hopeless, home the homeless.

i texted hundreds of people on the unicorn ride home.
random thoughts and busted trannys.
texty text mctexterson.

lets write a song about punk rock normalities!

"fuck technology!"
"the social credit union should make a comeback!"
"gifting meat is bad because you died it!"

or a way way better name.

i just dumped coffee in my lap on this cold december morn.
damn replies from hundreds of ambulance related texters.
this season, give the gift of familiar ceiling sleeping goggles.

or a seasons pass to fuckoffittyville.

blow the bomb in breaking dawn.
mow until the grass is gone.
no one likes a healthy lawn.

kissed a cute girl last night, then she puked for hours.
the coffee not in my lap drives me to take showers.
and show up on time for things.
and not did all that stuff i did.

life is a skytrain, with many stops.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 06:09:00 +0000

hello, goodbye

im finally starting to un-explode.
after spending the weekend back home in cold country.
decided to stop in for docc's birthday, i like surprises.

the santa beard was itchy and tasted like paint.
i was already feeling cautiously claustrophobic before mike began wrapping the wrapping paper around my face and bod. and i was basically hyper-ventilating as he guided me blindingly down a dusty corridor and into the thirsty moose pub. just 2 furry red legs sticking out the bottom. and, of course, my asshole shoes. luckily he didnt spot them before opening his big birthday present.

all i remember is him screaming and hugging. when i could finally see amid the painty beard, wrapping paper, hockey tape, and attack of friends and formers, i began loudly and aggressively chanting HO! HO! HO! and "HOW ABOUT A NICE FOOTBALL?!

im too tired, bedtime.

babes love santa's knee.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 07:52:00 +0000

storm windows

a row of fractured and frustrating events leads me here.
dim-eyed, destroyed, and designed for disposal.
dinosaur dance on dining room table.

don't taze me.

hopefully im on the cusp of something great.
or at the very lowest least, something pretty good.
specifics run dry at times of emotional tire swings.

2 hot blond girls approached me last night, and i recognized neither.
the first said "trevor linden."
the 2nd said "you sang to me."

wicked band practice tonight.
a chance to sweat off my shames.
and construct complicated castles, then completely collapse them.

when i got home, my friend TV had some nice surprises in store.
adaptation into good will hunting on bravo.
2 of the best scripts in my lifetime.

yes, with commercials, but as i treat them, piss breaks.

a great movie is very much like a great album.
used in both celebration ceremonies and storm window assassinations.
background in times of breakdown, baked instead of burned.

here's me, overseas.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 06:32:00 +0000

if that's not my ceiling

then where did i sleep?

happiness is a dose drug.
controlled by the amount of prescriptions we forge for ourselves.
every morning i take a double dose of coffee and corn flakes.
it keeps me right, regular, and soaked in spectacular.

so, where do we go after the first song?
is the album any good? is the lead singer hot?
have you seen the blond chick with the tool shirt smoking pot?

growing is a progress word.
i go nuts when my speakers work.
cause normally they sing, instead of smirk.

falling off is easily blocked at scoffs hockey shop.
just ask cam, or my backup equipment sack.
they will both answer the same:
everything is great and all is amazing.

lets get real for a moment: my boss is picking me up at 8am at broadway station, for some crazy advertising party that i know nothing about, all they told me is that i cant bring my car, so im wearing my green freckled sweater vest, and apparently everyone turns into dinosaurs after the show.

ill make it, cause of book words and treasure trolls.

giving up is going down is getting old.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 07:31:00 +0000

fixed frequencies

the bouncer let me cross the dance floor to tell marty that i'd been kicked out, before kicking me out. to the best of my memory, i had done nothing wrong, like no spills, falls, or flips. but i had arrived hours earlier in a lavish party bus, and had been trying out a few new dance moves, so that pretty much explains it. anyway, while the bouncer was red-carpeting me out of there i said "i feel sorry for your girlfriend."
"i dont have a girlfriend."
"exactly."

not that i tamed any anistons myself, but it felt great to fight the power.
luckily he didnt smack me, and marty grabbed my john prine hoody from coat check.
the duke woke up with a black eye, and i woke up on a been bag in my brothers living room.
neither of us know how/when/why.

another sunday out of sight.
special cooking is required to engage the recovery process.
and nothing caps a hangover like KD with 14 other secret ingredients.
i call it 15.

"we're havin' 15 for dinner tonight, sweetheart."

lucky her.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 08:12:00 +0000

who is up and where is now?

i took it real easy tonight.
a few glasses of sharp yet affordable red.
godda stay calm, its my brothers birthday party tomorrow, ft. party bus.

my brother,
coolest guy at the party.
he is everything that i think my dad thinks my mom thinks she wanted with a 2nd son.
since their first son couldnt carry all the corn back to the stable, and thus, the party bus.

i know other good steves also.
my friend steve wrote that post, exactly 3 years ago, to the day.
i still quote it on a regular basis.
theo misses steve's regular writings too.

you can move far away from cities, and escape far away from realities, but your best friends will always track you down, with their fancy cars and able legs, no matter how far away you go.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 05:49:00 +0000

caulk the wagon, and float it

id love to get my hands on an old mac computer with oregon trail and transilvania, and cross country canada. id set it up in the corner with my stacks of cassette tapes and elementary school speech certificates. and always wear baggy jeans and dickies branders shirts from trick.

i caulked the wagon and floated,
with a patch on my eye, and a gut that is bloated,
i like my gold caramel coated,
and when my cannon fires, your boat gets exploded.

imagine if liquor was considered a form of currency.
accepted at meat shops and gas companys.
people would start brewing up their own money.
society would become saturated in liquid-love and there'd be longer lines at megabite, late at night.

and, as with real money, the conservatives will thrive.
with huge bunkers full of millions of gallons of good times.
they'll control the government, and create false idols for the idiots to worship.
the rest of us will be stuck saying things like: "shit man, i spent all my gas money getting gassed."

meet the drunk petting zoo.
a quality, new-age business that only accepts liquor as currency.
pet the animals: 1 shot.
ride the animals: 3 shots.
at some point later that evening we became the heavy petting zoo, and sang lots of NOFX songs.

i woke up on martys couch, still wearing the ears, and a shirt that said "i love denim."

another halloween victory.
colin 1 - drunk tank 0.
my 6 year winning streak continues.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 06:47:00 +0000

writing, fighting

i cant prove anything.

life is a window.
you can either stand and look, or go smashy-smashy.
sometimes the outside world is clearer through a broken pane.

new west is absorbed with screams and fears right now.
i just got back from the zoo, its open and ready for business.
people are being restrained, and its only a matter of time before they come for me.

reiteration concludes that my favorite thing about being home is going to concerts.

monsters of folk delivered a 'best of ever' performance.
john prine smiled louder than an ambulance.
and propagandhi on tuesday will most likely confuse me into the cross-dresserism.

i soak in live music, like a hot bath on a cold october morning.
total lie, baths are wack, but from the highest erickson to the lowliest shannon, everyone enjoys a good soak.

on most good hoodies, one string is always longer than the other.
like me right now, off balance and weird looking, yet warm and dry.
meet me tonight, in atlanic city.

paradise lies on good times mountain.
wet tastes great from good times fountain.

clearly i have left my poet license at the cleaners.
yet i feel a whole new acoustic album crash-landing itself in the coming weeks.
called "sunday morning love songs."

it blocks out the bad thoughts about our drummer quitting, unexpectedly.
we had it all, except proof, power, money, and credibility.
ya, the good shit.

but i aint shook, and the right hook is stronger than a textbook.
the beer keeps brewing, the tunes keep spewing, and the sky keeps bluing.

hot dog walks make new west nights feel alright.

ya, i go a little crazy, once in a while, but when i think of you i smile.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 07:56:00 +0000

good feeling stuff

i turned 27 yesterday.
it was a hellava party.
still got a few best friends down here.

slept til 5pm today, only got up cause i had a ticket to go watch the canucks gloriously beat dallas in a shootout. wore my new sunnyvale jersey, cool gift #1. we went to the cambie after, great move captain cam, you are gift #2.

and after a million games of clean hand, the very last skytrain delivered me here.

andy bought me the record, cool gift #3.
the JP concert is this coming friday, and the anticipation bleeds a fancy red stain on my hardwood-looking laminate floor.

but before that, monsters of folk on tuesday.
tickets, tickets, tickets.
fuck, i love tickets.

the wilhelm scream show murdered me on friday night, and the dan mangan show the friday before at inlet theatre, left me like a mad scientist on the brink of a great discovery, only to poison my findings afterwords with a gallon of strong yet affordable whiskey.

i suddenly want to do lots of good feeling stuff, but alas, i must rest, going golfing with dad tomorrow, cool gift #4.

im an artist, at riding things down.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 08:38:00 +0000

cor-doc's pizza basement

lately ive been very belligerent with my note-pad.
opening it at random pages, and documenting the mediocriest of facts.
problem is, i cant keep track, even in the daylight.
so when i open it to random pages, i gasp at the obscurity.
and tell myself that i need to organize.
no dice.

then i hit the patio, as a man is exploding.
screaming about the government.
his mom sucks.

waves in gray.
matt is streaming the new album in full quality now.
bout time, i buy anyway.

going to 5 concerts in the next 45 days.
ya, its good to be back in the lower-main.
tomorrow i hit the vancouver flea market, so i can write a wicked commercial about how rad it is.

'wasted' is a safety word for one who needs roof-over-support.

im awesome at being like this.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 07:20:00 +0000

you big idiot

got home from band practice, poured a rye, and the movie 'Pi" came on.
few movies fully intoxicate me, but this one does.
gives me the shakes, and the fear
made it so i didnt need the rye anymore.
but i drank it anyway.
now i back-flip into bed.

hey, get those dicks outta my bed.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 05:07:00 +0000

can't elope

im super-productive on long weekends.
bought new slippers today.
writing punk songs requires memory-foam under feet.

saving halves of spicy combos is always a great move.
cause sometimes even downstairs is too far to swim for food.
gut calls, col answers.

matt good is streaming his new album right now, for free.
ill still buy the actual album/CD when it comes out.
because no imitation grill can ever cook an indoor steak like the foreman.

the sleepier i get, the louder i smile.