Monday, October 31, 2005

w@y g0n3

it was a monster mash ...

happy halloween my little pretties. this is the beginning of the end, the scariest part of the year ...

... the holiday season. *shudder*

listening to ))) XXX

Julie Brown - The Homecoming Queen's Got a Gun

Monday, October 24, 2005

mel0ns @nd c0llies

i can't go on, so i give in ...

the funny thing about being creative is that sometimes you are not, no matter what you do. the damn won't break and the hounds cannot be released. the other shoe won't drop and the fat lady has a yeast infection and took the night off. my muse is getting drunk somewhere else and i'm not invited. my brain won't jog and my mouth can't run. i'm a unic in the blind darkness of my own ineptitude. a soft sad sound on a big blank page.

listening to ))) my own de-evolution

DEVO - Beautiful World
Elvis Costello - Pump It Up

Thursday, October 20, 2005

d3ar d3ad g1rl-2

easy like sunday morning...

Dear Dead Girl,

it's been a long time. all of the time washed by is clear and transparent and lets me see all the way back. all the way back to the days in the sun and the talk of young souls with all the way left. the whole 1/4 mile. i remember the pier and the late nights in the rain with just our PJ's on. it was all such good fun. the kind of fun that ralph macchio would tell you to 'stay golden' for. the good stuff, our stuff.

so how is your after life? is it full of all the good things you didnt get here? i hope it is. i really do. as much i would love to dig you up and hold you briefly in my arms again. i can't. i know its impossible, but a mere mortal can still dream. can't i?

today the air is crisp just like in all the old photos. your favorite days. all the grey sullen beaches. all the fat lazy boulders to climb on and over. oh yeah , those damn seagulls. stinkin rat flys. i promise i won't throw rocks at them any more. i haven't since that day. i know you wouldn't approve.

well anyways kiddo, i gotta split. you know how i am. funny? much, much, much, love & luck cutey pants.

- deryke

listening to ))) muzak

Saves the Day - Freakish
The Foo Fighters - The One

Sunday, October 16, 2005

r@1ny d@y

rain, rain, go away come again some other day...

sometimes it's just hard to believe, real hard. the whole idea just mystifies you and the entire concept flies by you in a rush, like a 747 just overhead, and leaves you at the end of the runway to ponder what has just happened. taunting you from afar and letting you know who is the boss. who owns who, and who holds the other by the tale.

yup, sometimes it's just hard to believe, real hard.

listening to ))) beats with people

Bumblebeez 81 - Microphone Diseases

Monday, October 10, 2005

b@byl0n, i

i and i will never die ...

now, i have always been a relatively cool cat, i mean i'm usually or almost always in the know about music, culture and social trends along with political thought. i have always enjoyed this and have taken it as a given that i can chill in almost any social realm or circle, or so i thought.

the other day i'm hangin with a very stoney friend of mine doing what comes naturally. on this day we were playing music and recording vocal tracks around the studio. i have been into music a long time and have also been playing the bass guitar for quite some time, I'VE BEEN AROUND THE BLOCK, let's just say.

'hey man'
'i got some homies coming over.'
'right on i'm down.'
'they are musicians, you ought to dig em.'
'right arm! cool wit me.'

we continued to play for a bit until someone knocked at the door. three rasta-style cats show up and my buddy and all them hug and exchange 'rasta'-ish greetings (i'm pretty sure in only the way that non-rastas and white kids do). a lil 'fakin-Jamaican', this ought to be good. hell, i've played in ska bands and reggae set-ups, i always dug the flava.

we all go upstairs to the living room of the studio and settle down around the low ikea coffee table. next thing ya know we are sparking up a 'chali' (a chalis for the rasta herb slang impaired) and sitting down for a lil bit to rap and hang out.

this is when i notice something. all the dreads did'nt know eachother. so when we got together to puff they all started to fake jamaican at eachother like birds from similar flocks chirping at eachother for praise. 'fire up to jah' and such when they lit the bowl , etc....

everything was going good until they decided to toast the chali to room. as the dreads toast they said a prayer to bring down babylon and turn all 'them' into rastas. them? huh? but this is what got me, when they all said BABYLON they all looked at ME. WTF? am i the man now? did i send all the california suburban dreads into the woods to hide in religious persecution like the mountain men of jamaica? GIVE ME A BREAK. HEY BUDDY, at least my accent is real and i don't splip between the islands of jah and brentwood california with every conversation depending on who i'm trying to impress with my pseudo-soulfulness and happy-nappy hygene.

as the evening went on they sang repetitive songs about (what else?) praying to jah and other such contrived culture-vulture crap.

this shit kills me, it really does. 'BABYLON I and I' said dc9!

listening to ))) the real deal

Bad Brains - I Against I
Bad Brains - Pay To Cum

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

OM- @#$#!'n -G p.2

now here is a cautionary tale for all of you out there in blogland...

ok, here we go. so there i am asleep full of dodger dogs and six dollar beers reveling over my home teams useless victory over another lame team that did not make the playoffs either. good stuff, huh? then all out of no where my bedroom door slams open and all hell breaks loose. this crazy ass bitch comes in screaming at the top of her lungs...

'who stole my last cigarette, i know ytou stole it. why the fuck would you do that? GO BUY ME CIGARETTES!'
'wha? huh?'

my door slams shut again and i'm thinking to myself. 'what the fuck i dont even smoke! plus i aint buying HER shit.'
the door slams open again and she comes in screaming at me.'you motherfucker, how could you do that you ugly fucker!' and she goes across my room and grabs my car keys and starts to walk out'

not on my time bitch! i got up and walked after her into the living room. 'give me my fuckin' keys you crazy bitch! you aint goin nowhere!' she backs up and tries to hold them away from me. now, she's a tall girl so i grab her arm and wrench them out.

'look bitch you gotta get out of this house to-fuckin-day!!'
'fuck you , you fat ugly asshole. BUY ME CIGARETTES NOW!'
'i dont even smoke you horrible bitch. have you ever seen me touch a cigarette? NO, you have not. now shut the fuck up and collect your shit. you gotta go!'
'i'm not leavingm you said i could stay and thats what i'm gonna do.'
'nope, your wrong you just fucked all that up! you dont step to me in MY house like that, or anybody for that matter you selfish bitch. the world don't owe you shit and neither do i!'
'fuck you!'
'nobody wants to hear it, and nobody cares.'
'no deryke, nobody cares about you!'
'dont play like that. you sound pathetic. now get your shit and leave fuck you!'

she gets up and starts to run back to the other bedroom. i ran after her.

'get the fuck away from me i want to be alone!' and tries to slam the door.
'bitch, this is my house, not yours and you don't GET to be alone,' and i smacked open the door pretty hard and wildly, 'if you want to be alone go be alone in the bathroom, then get your shit and get the fuck out you crazy cracked-out bitch!'
'thats it i'm calling baroushe.' (some dude who also dont like her)
'go the fuck ahead, but dont forget to get your shit and go. i'm calling the cops.'

i went out into the living room, got the pigs on the line and asked them to send over an officer. right when they are getting ready to do it she walkes out very quickly and says she needs some air. probably not her first time.

'officer, she's leaving.'
'well sir if she's leaving get all her stuff and throw it out on the porch and dont ever have anybody else over again.'
'good advice officer.'
'if she come back we'll send somebody.'

after i got off the phone with the fuzz, i grabbed all her shit and tossed it down at the bottom of the stairs. i then promptly bailed and came back the next day to see if the broad had bounced. all her shit was packed up neatly, but still there. so i grabbed it all and put it out by the trash cans. good riddance.

this whole thing was a shit-storm of craziness that i do not want to repeat. it was pretty much over until the other night.

its evening and i'm relaxing with a bottle of wine and the family guy when i hear a knocking. i get up put down my glass of crappy wine (thats how i roll) and go check the peep hole. IT's HER, wtf? i dont answer and turn offthe lights and tv and shut the drapes. what is wrong with this ho?

she keeps rapping on the door and i then notice that its unlocked. i'm now standing in the kitchen where the view of the door opens tward me, like i'm behind it. she would try to break in, or would she. she's one of these line steppin bitches. a habitual line stepper you might say. so right as i think that the door begins to open. this bitch dont get it. so i let the door open about 12 inches and then i go into action. from across the room i run at the door and chuck norris styule kick it shut making sure the door hits her a bit.

'get the fuck away from me you stupid cunt and never come back!'
all i hear is 'please deryke' in her nicest i've-been-kicked-out-of-somewhere-else voice. that was it i locked the door and that was the end for me. thank goodness. i just heard that shes calling all my friends and trying to stay with them.


there is more but i'll let your imagination fill in the blanks.

listening to ))) the calm after the storm

The Dead Kennedys - I Fought The Law