Friday, December 31, 2004

NP:Wovenhand-Bleary Eyed Duty

so it looks like the year is pretty much over.

i have to say this has been a pretty decent year for myself, at least compared to previous years. i'm not exactly where i want to be in some areas of my life, but i've gotten a few things straightened out this year, and abandoned some sources of discomfort and misery.

i lost my train of thought thanks to the fucking telephone ring. i hate telephones. it's either a wrong number or someone you don't want to talk to. they're a annoyance and their seed should be wiped clean from the earth before it leaves a protein stain no club soda can remove.

love life is still non-existant. not exactly non-existant, just unsastifactory, but that's nothing new. i've pretty much excepted the fact that sex for me is like prison. the kind of sex i want i can't get, and the kind of sex i can get i don't want.

even after the good year i've had, i still want to stick my head in an oven with a sign taped to my back that says "No Funeral". could be because of the inane pressure this holiday brings, the pressure to get laid, make out with some broad at the stroke of midnight, celebrate whatever the fuck a calender symbolizes. i'm tempted to just by a six pack of Heineken and drink myself into a coma while listening to SWANS albums...just to spite this wretched thing called "new years eve", but i've got band practice tomorrow.

NP:Jumbo's Killcrane-Locust Blanket

Thursday, December 30, 2004

song of the day;

Just Like A Cunt by Whitehouse

You look like a fucking bat, you old slut
I really loathe vulgarity, so common
Your disgraceful cellulitus
You’ll never be the same again
Fucking stereotype
You take just like a cunt
Cunt fucks just like a cunt
You ache just like a cunt
You break just like a cunt
A cunt like you
Fucking stereotype
Listen to the sound of being alive
Look at yourself, cunt
Wrap up
Pull yourself together
You’re a fucking mess
You’re a fucking disgrace
And still you’re saying nothing happened?
While that dog looks at you
He’s glancing at that snatch of wizening cleavage
Wizening old tit
You must be fucking joking, cunt
And as for those ridicolous shoes
Always too much perfume
Always too much plaster
Yes, that dog looks at you
In fascinated repulsion
Even his disgusting half-erection is disgusted
Because nothing in the world could possibly compare
To holding
His sweet little daughter’s hand
Could it?
Shelly Duvall has a lovely singing voice.

there is nothing more stupid then writing about how bored you are, but who ever said i was a genius? i mean yeah, i wear glasses and get good grades and have no freinds and haven't even had an opportunity to get laid since high school, but that doesn't make me a communist, this little red sash with the lepre playing the violin on the grave of a clown's skeleton while his skin looks on in about as much amusement as his empty eye sockets will allow, now there is your so-called messiah....look at him and he doesn't even know it....eating apples...little do you know you draw closer to the Queen apple, rich with sugar maggots and candied goats..they have caramel kidneys freshly served from a rib cage, pryed open and steaming like oxygen in winter. Kidneys aren't in the rib cage, you say? well now i guess this whole thing makes no sense....drugs? who is drugs? my name is Sob R. Iety and you're going to be cleaning my guns with your bullet riddled head....head filled with bullets from the gun you is.

happy new's the same as the old year, only now it comes with a prize inside. i got a plastic ring that whisltes when you blow in to it. so long.

Sunday, December 26, 2004

NP:Tom Waits - Don't Go in the Red Barn

a late Christmas Present to myself: a 120 dollah order from

in the order;

Rudimentary Peni - Death Church
Celtic Frost - Morbid Tales/Emperor's Return
Starkweather - Into the Wire
Germs - MIA: The Complete Anthology
Leadbelly - Absolutely the Best
Birthday Party - Prayers on Fire
Swans - Filth
Nausea - Punk Terrorist Anthology 1
Isis - Mosquito Control
Whitehouse - Quality Time

yes i splurged. don't care.

NP:Tom Waits - Metropolatin Glide