Metallica - Death Magnetic

Metallica refuses to leave you alone. As decent Americans it's really your duty to buy their new record. You have to pay for it too...no illegal downloads allowed. Lars Ulrich will come to your house and batter your face with his double bass pedal. The same one that's been sitting in his closet for the past 20 years. It would appear that the West Coast thrashers -gone chart toppers -gone really awful "southern" rock-gone insecure old man/trash can metal have come full circle with their latest release Death Magnetic. It would also appear that the last sentence was a total train wreck, much like every Metallica record released since 1988. I've given the new record one listen all the way through and I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised. The gang is back! Well, sorta. This is the first album to feature new bassist Robert Trujillo, who joined the band in 2003. He's a really solid player and pretty technically efficient, but his sound is buried under incredibly beefy guitars and the weirdest cymbal mix I've heard in a while. Who better to produce this iconic American Metal record than the new last resort for failed musicians to revive their careers, Rick Rubin. An obvious but welcome choice, Rubin does a great job of keeping these geezers sounding fresh. The vocals are mixed very low, so as not to contaminate any solid riffs with James Hetfield's redundant, trite, juvenile lyrics. The shortest song on this record, "My Apocalypse" is five minutes long. The longest, an instrumental called "Suicide and Redemption" is ten minutes. After my first listen, these two tracks and the opener, "That Was Just Your Life" are the best. The overall "Metallica's still got it" vibe is very obvious here. Kirk Hammet is making up for lost time, playing excellently on this album and giving fans a healthy dose of top shelf shredding(much needed after 2003's solo-less and shitty St. Anger). A concentrated effort has been made to keep things moving fast, and though there are echoes of past failings throughout (some breakdowns reek of "Reload" trashiness), the Metal is back and, for the most part, still in the eye of the beholder.

More of the same

Still in the same shit! August was the worst money-month ever. Now I'm slowly starting to climb out of it. Yuck. There is hope, though.

I'm visiting Chicago, if only for a brief couple of days, to help Lauren move back. Taking a break from my full-time job moving stuff to...go to another city...and move stuff. This has been happening a lot lately, actually. Last week I woke up sick and called into work. Then, later that day I was helping my sister move back to my Mom's. I'm never not moving stuff. I'll be there on the 19th-21st?

In other news...Perry's moving up there. I, personally, think everyone should come home and stay home, but who am I to get in the way of anyone's "dreams" or "goals." I used to have those too. Now I'm just living paycheck to paycheck like I didn't just go to college for 5 dumb years.

Hope everyone's well. I gotta go.

Summer of Bummer

I've decided not to post here until I am in a better state of mind. I've been plagued by lots of depressing financial shit lately, and I find that it's really bringing my character down. I feel like a shitty person when I am in debt to someone else. I've been in debt for over a month now, and it would appear that I may continue to be in this situation for quite some time. So, basically...if I don't get busted by the IRS, my parents don't disown me and IF I GET A FREAKING RAISE BEFORE I DIE, I should be back to posting retarded shit that no one reads pretty soon. Also, I've decided to take a hint from my good friend Jerk and make this a purely musical blog. I will review/discuss/rant about ONLY music. Mostly music I hate, since it typically has the most bountiful bosom of total shittiness. This means no more vagina monologues, no more boring "this is what I did today" posts, and no more making fun of has-been celebrities who no one gives a shit about. Music is the key. Music is the answer. The internet is not the answer, but it'll do when I'm bored. I need to get Quicken for dummies or some shit. This is why I laugh when people call me a rock star. If you see me, give me a hug, I probably need it.

Call the "Wah"mbulance

I don't know why I keep doing all this shit. I have no motives anymore. There's no reason to do anything. I'm unbelievably frustrated with every situation I find myself in. I need to calm down. All I see is evil everywhere. I can see everyone else's motives so clearly, and it's terrifying. There's also this simultaneous feeling of worthlessness and under-appreciation. There's so much work to be done to reach this false plateau of happiness. I feel like I've been there before but it's so far away now that I'll never get back. What the hell is up with my brain? Why do I feel so paranoid? Why do I allow people to fuck with me? What has two thumbs and is totally fucked? This guy.

MORE DEAD COPS

If you don't get the title you should probably see the Dark Knight and then you'll realize just what is the best thing to yell out at a press conference. I've seen this film twice now. It's the best movie to come out in years. DUH. All of the acting is superb. DOY. Totally sweet and dark as fuck. (flaps bent wrist against chest like mongoloid person) BUT since this is my fucking blog that I never use as much as I should, I'll say what I want...and what I want to say is this: Christian Bale's Bat-voice is way over done. Sorry...It's true. Too much, man. "YOU'RE GONNA BE...IN A PADDED CELLLLL..." Stop it. Stop it right now. Your Bruce Wayne is awesome, your Batman is mean as hell and tough as nails, but that voice? You sound like people are going to be making fun of you for years. You sound like Tom Waits, Dicky Barrett, and that Sasquatch of a singer from Fucked Up having a trash-brawl in a trash bag. I had to get that out there. You can achieve total darkness without sounding forced. You can actually be an actor. Javier Bardem did it in No Country for Old Men, where were you?!?!

In other news- I don't do much these days. If you're ever wondering what I'm doing it's one of these: sleeping, working, playing drums, playing guitar, smoking, drinking, showering, doing laundry or eating. That's it! I've got it down to nine things. That's all I do! I need a break from all this normalcy. I mean, my life is fun, but there's just got to be a better way...That's vague as hell. I'm sick too. That whole ears/nose/throat sinus congestion thing is really wailin' on me. Jerky is comin' over after work so we can go running. Don't know how well I'll do, but I'll try.

ALSO! Lightning struck a tree behind our house last night, causing this massive branch to fall, disabling our internet/phone line. I spent 40 minutes on the phone with AT&T, talked to 7 people, 13 robots (even got transferred to North Carolina, some how?!), typed in my number 400 times and finally got someone to come out between the hours of 9AM and 7PM. Somewhere in there.

I'm driving up to Chicago for Lollapalooza in 9 days with my sister, Bridget, Peter and Andy Edsall and Peter's friend Anna. Then we get to bring Lauren back with us! Huzzah! Oh, I didn't want to mention this, but the Foo Fighters show the other night was pretty much a bust. They played a few rockers but mostly played they're lamest songs for 2.5 hours. They even made some of their good songs ('My Hero', 'Everlong', 'Big Me') into LAME songs by playing them all acoustic and slow and making them sound like Douchebag Confessional songs. They played 'Stacked Dead Actors,' off the 3rd record, and put a drum solo in the middle, which was alright. Dave Grohl is still the second coolest dude alive (Lemmy) but GOD DAMN does he need to start a metal band where he can fucking SHRED SOME SERIOUS RIBS. Wasted potential. Larry and I want to start a band called LEPER HUMAN. Maybe we can get Lil' Davey to join on drums. SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER NO TIME TO STOP AND THINK IT'S SUMMER TIME.

Summer jams

By the end of this summer I will have seen Foo Fighters, Radiohead, and Rage Against the Machine. Where the fuck was this summer when I was 14? I would have ate my own brain if I knew I was going to see these bands! I'm really excited. I rarely listen to Rage or Foo Fighters anymore, but they were both favorites of mine in past-times. I have a new band. A summer band. We're called Sick Bros. I play drums. Danni plays guitar. Mookie sings. Jordan plays bass. We have 4.5 songs as of now and we're ready to kick some ass! Good summer thus far.

So Damn Hot

Hot today. Hot yesterday. Heat like this'll make a man go loopy. You know...get all screwy. Start thinkin' about hobbits and viking funerals and mayonnaise and shit. Then you're writhing around on the floor running in circles and you think about how running in circles on the floor like that should be an Olympic event of some kind. Then the sweat worms slither out from under the fridge and start gelling all over you with their slimy mucky goo. That shit contains some kinda acid that begins to boil your your skin, muscles and internal organs. Then when you're nothing but mush and bones the worms slither away and the reaper arrives to throw your remains into his BONE CART.

It gets hot in the warehouse. It's only gettin' hotter. See you on the other side.

(p.s. - best 4th of july ever.)

Snakelord

CHICAGO- IMA HIT THAT THIS WEEKEND. Meaning I will be there Thursday through Sunday. Make yourselves available. Neal's going away party is Saturday at Lil' Bauhaus. Come celebrate this wonderful man.

I was sitting in the courtyard area down in the White Power District the other night. My Dad was telling me how my older brother grew up with Eddie Griffin, comedian:
and how he went to Rockhurst. That's crazy. This dude's pretty funny, but as is the case with ALL comedians, he was probably a lot funnier when he was blowing a lot of cocaine. I don't care what you say, Sam Kinison was a crazy person. His voice was absolutely hilarious to me though. He was a preacher for years and they he turned crazy and nearly snorted up Peru. Then he died in a pool of his own fat like a fatty. You know who gets to pay for that funeral? That's right, America, I'm looking at you. Quit eating those cheese fries and let's get down to brass tacks here.

Josh Homme yelled at some kids in Norway. Not surprising behavior at all, I must say.

Bone Throne

We played a surprise show at the Kitchen on Wednesday with a very good metal band called Resigned to Fate. We definitely sounded the best we've ever sounded live. It was a total rush, and it reminded me why I love doing this shit so much. We've got a couple more knobs to tweak (poof) on the demo and then we'll start burning cd's and making artwork. We're still totally clueless as to what to call it. The five of us have incredibly different tastes, so it's really frustrating trying to keep everyone happy. People need to learn to be more open-minded, too. In the mean time, we're playing shows under the name Imminent Death, which is lame. I really should write about something else but there's just no time!

Sarah and Clare are in town this weekend! Babe-a-palooza. There was this really awesome thunderstorm last night too, so I guess everything is pretty sweet.

XOX

Ear is healed. All it took was one more trip to Harriett's clinic and that bastard was SUCKED DRY! My friend and co-worker Jack is back for the summer to help around here and that is awesome. This almost always a two-dude job anyway, so it's good to have him back. We're headlining the all-ages part of Midwest Fest somehow? That's tomorrow night. It's our fourth show, so how we're headlining I'll never know. We're Fucked must have canceled. "Yeah, we'll headline...all the way to the fucking bank!" Our demo is complete, bruises and all, and we'll most likely have a bunch of cd's printed up in the next month. I'm pretty happy with it, as I've never been in a band quite like this before, and it's pretty interesting. People should really appreciate awesome bands like Death more because being in a metal band is TOUGH, dude! Still no good band name though. Anyway, just stoppin' in, gotta go!

Get the Fuck Off My Lawn

I have not been able to hear out of my left ear for three days. I've tried everything. It'sss maddening. John's mom even tried to clean it out with some crazy machine and it didn't work. My Dad is deaf in his right ear, so this hits a little close to home. He had a stroke though. Maybe I had a stroke in my sleep. I've heard crazier things. I really worry about being too similar to my Dad sometimes because he's a real square. He is like 800 by now though, so I don't expect to see him at Buzzard dancing on tables or anything. Once you pass 50 I heard you age one year for every day of your life. It's some fluid they started pumping into babies back in the 30's that makes them age extremely fast. You can google it. I'm not even lying. Just wait 'til you hit 50. Hunched over your bowl of mustard and prunes (typical), frothing at the mouth like a geriatric raver, you'll just start to decompose. Little bits of skin and then crumbling bones and then, by the time you're 70, you just turn to mush. I believe John McCain is in the later stages of this man-made virus, which I have dubbed "Geezernasia".

"A man came in today, he was a dear friend of mine. He had a PET CAT"

What's so civil about war anyway?

I heard the song "Civil War" by Guns N' Roses on the radio today. It's funny that these lyrics could easily be from an Aus Rotten song. These guys are idiots.

My hands are tied
The billions shift from side to side
And the wars go on with brainwashed pride
For the love of God and our human rights
And all these things are swept aside
By bloody hands time can't deny
And are washed away by your genocide
And history hides the lies of our civil wars

I like to imagine Axl singing something a little more like Lil' John:

My shit is tight
Got my jersey on, got my dreadlocks long
Layin' tracks all night, we do it right
Snortin' yayo all day is outta sight
Fans are hypnotized, starz in their eyez
Slash rips that shit while I tantalize
You're gonna die, you filthy slime
My serpentine will crush your skinny throat

Maybe that version will be on Chinese Democracy when it comes out in the year never.

Old Man...You're so weak...

As I was writhing around in bed this morning, I had a thought. Houses should have horns. Car horns. Something I can just lay on. Maybe not. I just want to be able to do something about the kids who wake up at 7am and just start running wild in the streets like some kinda god damn magic show when all I wanna do is sleep off these 8 beers and go to work in a couple hours. Wow, I am totally an old man. But, seriously, if I could install some kind of gigantic megaphone on the front of my house so I could yell at kids to get off my lawn I'd probably be pretty happy with myself.

AND ANOTHER THING!

Guess what? No one in our band likes our band name. I don't know how this happened. It's been 3 months. We need a new band name. Please give us more ideas! They're hilarious and we'll never use them.

IMMINENT DON'T

Chickenfoot - I Can't Listen to this Shitty Music at 55rpms anymore.

Where were you when you heard about Sammy Hagar's new 'supergroup,' Chickenfoot? When you heard that Joe Satriani was on guitar, Michael Anthony was on bass, and Chad Smith was playing drums did you totally flip out? When you heard that badass name did you hurl and shatter your zong in excitement? Were your friends and family devastated for weeks when they couldn't find you anywhere, only to discover you in your apartment- malnourished, sickly and writhing on the floor in a seizure after having read THIS?!?!??!:

"When people hear the music, it's Led Zeppelin. It's as good as that. I know that's a mighty bold statement... We could rival Zep." - Sammy Hagar

If you were...Give up. There's no hope for you.

WOW! A BRAND NEW LED ZEPPELIN!!! no one's ever tried that! Let's check out our new heroes of Rock n' Roll. The dudes who are gonna start a rockolution and save us from the complete cum dumpster that is the last 30 years of popular music! Check out your totally new, red-rockin', cabo-wabo drinkin' Robert Plant 2.0!

Look at that guy! He could be passed out on your couch! Awesome!

The mysterious black magic of Jimmy Page will now be shat out by this fucking pompous, weird-looking alien dude:

You're doing it wrong. Hands go the other way. Return to mothership.

Don't forget that amazing Zep rhythm section, sporting the familiar heavy tones of this jackass with a whiskey bass and wrestling shoes.

"Whoa, dude! What is in this stuff?!?!"

This must be where Hagar had to stop and think. The thoughts zipping through the Red Rocker's notoriously fake-baked head weren't the ones you would think (i.e. "What a worthless career i've made for myself"; "I should probably kill myself by drinking Mike Anthony's bass" or "I think I got HPV from that waitress...wait, that was a chick, right?"), but rather "Who could possibly fill the gigantic boots of John Bonham? Jason Bonham won't do. No, not Jimmy Chamberlin, not Neal Pert, not Dave Grohl. I want that guy who plays on the "Hey Oh" song by the Big Wet Spicy Peppers. I liked that one. It reminds me of last year when that song came out."

"I make instructional drum videos. No, really."

SOOOOOO...with that one guy who looks like that other funny guy banging on the skins, I present you, the wonderfully lucky readers of Blood Pile, with your BRAND. NEW. AMERICAN. LED. ZEPPELIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

CHICKEN FOOT!

I hate. I die.

Apparently I need to be banned from the internet because everything I type on here seems to piss someone off. I'd get mad at myself, but then I think you'd have to be crazy to take anything seriously around here. There's a guy eating a giant cheeseburger up there. Come on. My life is a horrible dick joke. Don't you get it?

The Fitzner's Memorial Day bbq was great, Alex and I saw Indiana Jones today, and I am now completely SPENT in the cash department. There is no reason for this selfish, boring, vapid post other than to let you know that I am still alive.

Joy and I have decided to just be friends. You should join us in this friendly conquest.

Mookie is coming back wednesday and bringing Baxter to sleep on my couch?! Major rager on the four-string motherfucker.

5/19/08 Dark Ages/INVASION/Death and Flowers

The Dark Ages/Invasion/Death and Flowers show at the Haunted Kitchen last night was a spectacular time. The show was cut a little short because BFMC had to cancel. Dark Ages' sound is becoming more and more efficiently chaotic every time I see them. Their new record is out and they are currently enjoying their status as the best punk/hardcore band in the city. After their 20 minute set the dudes began breaking down their stuff to make way for Barcelona's INVASION. I'm glad the only hype I heard about this band was from George Magers 30 seconds before they started - "this band's tight, son, f'realz." Someone had the amazingly great idea to put an insane amount of delay and reverb on the singer's mic. It sounded fantastic over the blistering d-beat which the four piece band pounded out. These dudes were very energetic and very good. There was a lot of excitement from the crowd as well, demanding 2 encores. The second one didn't happen, but at least we tried. I must confess that I spent my time talking to people upstairs during Death and Flowers but I can say they did not sound anything like I expected them to sound. Upstairs, Brett Ray declared his love/hate for Madonna (she is the BANE of his existence). That was pretty funny. All in all, it was a great night - despite the voyeurism and vomit I was exposed to later.

tie one on

Imminent Death:
www.myspace.com/imminentdeathkc

The profile is a work in progress. Turns out, avoiding lame nu-metal-ass myspace backgrounds is harder than we thought. There are two songs up there. Both are pretty much done. You should let us know what you think. We are opening for Dark Ages at the Anchor for their 7" release show this friday! Sucked Dry is also playing that show. I will have more writing up here soon!

boy grasps girl part 1

You're never sorry until it's too late. Bobby cradled his brand new baby sister in his arms. Two weeks old, healthy, home from the hospital and nursing, she seemed peaceful here in her new room. Bobby held her close and danced her around the crib, singing "Angie" - her namesake. Every so often he paused to show her the carousel dangling above the crib. "Look, Angie," he said, pointing her arm at Mickey Mouse, "this little mouse is a racist. Do you know what a racist is?" Angie spit bubbles and thrashed her arms wildly, smiling at Bobby with innocent brown eyes. "That's right, of course you do," he said, lying her down in her crib. He smiled and closed the door softly behind him.

Out in the hallway, Bobby slumped to the carpeted floor. Glancing up at the papered walls he saw family photos- his father decked out in his brand new powder-blue tuxedo, the one he bought just before he got the job in Tuscon; his mother serving Sunday brunch to Bobby and his sister, Louise; his first car- the Chrysler LeBaron that ended up in a tree later that summer. Bobby wrung his wrists and gazed down at his ever-expanding gut. "Where the hell is Dad?"

In the fall of 1988, George Hallbrook would not shut up about his new gun. "She's a beaut, Bobby. A 12-gauge Smith & Wesson shot gun with cherry wood. We're going hunting!" Rushing home from his realty office, he would bound through the door, his hulking frame creaking the floorboards. As he loosened his tie, tiny beads of sweat would drip down his nose, onto his neck and under his yellow shirt collar. "There she is," he would say, fixating on the shot gun prominently displayed above the mantle, "What a beaut." Crossing in front of Bobby and Louise, who sat calm and ignored on the couch watching television, George would practically kneel at the foot of his weapon. He liked to spend his afternoons walking around the house with the shot gun in his hand. Bobby and Louise would occasionally distract themselves from America's Funniest Videos long enough to catch George cleaning the fine china in his boxer shorts and under-shirt at the dining room table. George's solid grip on his new toy held steadfast as he tried to balance the plates on his knee and scrub them with a dish cloth. The kids would crack a dry smile and turn back to Bob Saget at every plate that was broken. George seemed equally surprised and annoyed that his cleaning system never seemed to work out. "Dad, maybe try it without the gun?" Bobby said after the sixth plate was broken. "Huh?" George's head darted up, his eyes invisible from the chandelier's glare on his wire-rimmed glasses, "Oh-" he said, gazing at the shot gun, "She sure is a beaut."

muscle

I've started doing push-ups and sit-ups every morning again. I'm starting off small because I haven't done them every day since high school. It helps a lot to just jump out of bed and do something physical, even though I'm all groggy and junk. I did 15 of each today, I'll do 25 of each tomorrow, 35 the next day, and then 50 of each the next. Exercise is pretty cool if you have the time and patience for that crap. Running would be the ultimate exercise for me (it's in my genes!) but it is also the most time-consuming and exhausting to do correctly. If I ran, I would want to run at least 5 miles a day twice a week. That wouldn't take that much time, I guess, but it would be hard for me to run on a day when I had been working. I'm making a rule for summer too- read at least 3 books a month and write something every day whether it be in journal or blog form. We'll see how it goes- I can get pretty lazy in the summer, and there's always lots of other stuff going on to distract me.

Lauren is coming in town tomorrow, my sister is graduating from UMKC on saturday, and I am going to be broke for all of it. Spain was 'spensive. Not having money has never stopped me from having fun before, though, and I guess I'm getting used to it. In two weeks I will have worked at Habitat for one year. I've never had a job for this long, so I guess that's saying something. I did work at Pizzaria Uno three different times in three years, but that's because they're dumb and I rule, so it doesn't really count. Suckers.

fatter, sappier, more seductive

I feel sort of weird about posting that thing about Brad. His wife read it and I guess, in hindsight, I didn't exactly paint him in a good light. Not that she was upset or anything. I can say it was honest, though. I've been posting a lot of sub-par crap on here lately. I've had no time to write, and I feel my blog has suffered.

I want 500 more dollars than I have right now. $300 would get me through. Where's my check you fucking redneck war-monger? What if George W. Bush isn't really a real person at all? What if Ross Perot just skinned George H. W. Bush and has been wearing him as a human-suit forever? Think about it! I bet there's no one (please don't prove my delusional daydreams wrong, it infuriates me) who can put Ross Perot and the two George Bush's in the same room at the same time. By day, the mild-mannered Ross Perot (who resides in TEXAS- HELLOOOO) poses as a billionaire and claims support for Mit Romney (a clever ruse to hide his secret identity). However, once the Bush Signal (silhoette of Yosemite Sam) is activated Perot will descend into the Bush Cave hidden underneath his Estate (now with a KFC!), release his wrinkly old suit from it's cryogenic chamber and fly into the night to eat a hot dog or play some golf like a jackass. America is running out of heroes. Ross Perot knows this. Ross Perot feels for the American people. He understands that we would never elect an aging, maniacal, big-eared Texan with lots of 'ideas' about 'oil,' so he skinned some other Texan and posed as a slightly younger, maniacal, big-eared Texan and WON TWO TERMS IN A ROW!!!! Perot's running this shit, man. I wouldn't be suprised if Barack Obama was just Perot with a Tiger Woods suit on. 'Never trust politicians, man, they're just old guys wearing younger guys' faces' - THAT'S WHAT THAT OLD GUY AT BUZZARD BEACH TOLD ME. I didn't believe him at first, but then I swore I saw Ross Perot driving the Oscar Meyer Weiner Mobile around, struggling to fit inside what I thought was a trash bag, but what actually turned out to be H.W.'s epidermis. Trust me, the truth is out there. Just remember, if there is ever fictional war that must be created, or a press conference to ruin, or a red telephone that must be answered, Perot will always be there- masked as whomever big, dumb America will elect.

Serpent-no-mor(e)

We've decided to change our name to Imminent Death. Grim, I know, but it also slays. We'll release a 6 or 7 song demo this summer and start playing shows regularly around that time. I can't wait for everyone to hear our sick tracks. I'm very proud of what we have so far. I'm in the process of writing 6 guitar solos right now and it's incredibly challenging but also fun. Music is the best thing in the world. Ever.

bye brad

it was awful to hear that brad cassidy passed away. i didn't know brad the best, but what i saw from our few meetings was a nice guy who could talk to just about anyone about anything. he was extremely knowledgeable about punk rock and indeed all music in general. my first real memory of brad was from 2005 when he came to chicago with a gigantic crew from st. louis to go to chicago fest. mookie and i hosted about 10-15 people from st. louis, k.c. and lawrence in our tiny apartment. after the second night of the fest, everyone returned to our apartment and a rather large party ensued. i remember talking to brad about the new kylesa record that had just come out. our conversation was cut short when he had to run to the bathroom. he had a lot to drink that night and had to go throw up. "excuse me, i have to vomit," he said with a smile, politely heading towards the bathroom. i remember going into check on him and finding him lounging peacefully in our bathtub. "hey man, i'm sorry about throwing up. i cleaned it," he said, taking a large swig from a bottle of whiskey, "so anyway, that new record is okay, but i tend to listen to a lot of the older stuff..." we proceeded to have an extremely interesting conversation about 80's hardcore and punk rock, how brad used to play in destroy, and then finally about his daughter. brad was a conversationalist, that's one thing i know for certain, he could glide across subjects smoother than anyone i know. some people just have that trait. i do not, which is why i found this guy laying in my bathtub with vomit all over him so interesting. he was kind of timeless in a way. our bathroom chat was cut short when someone had to take a shit or make out or something, but i'll always think of that time when i think of brad. he was a good guy, a smart guy, and he will be missed.

bad attitude

everything is sitting right in front of me but i can't decide what to do with myself. i try to build up confidence but always get thwarted by my own dumb laziness. quarter-life crisis is right. i take everything for granted, constantly. i'm a liar. i miss a lot of people and i feel like i'll never see them again. some days i feel like i'm going to die in a few hours. where's all this coming from?

i need to turn everything around.

that being said, it is a beautiful day in kansas city and i am happy to say i'll be outside for almost all of it. it's stupid to get caught up in things i can't change, so i guess i will just continue. my creativity needs to be harnessed and lassoed, perhaps restrained with a bear trap so that i can gain some personal clarity.

Ode to Beard # 3 (The Patriarch)

With sheers against the jaw
Mine dignity did fall
The coarsness of thine spirals glistened
and seeped into the bog.

My face now bare as swine-hide
I tremble in despair.
But soon fear turns to reverie
and I simply cease to care.

For though I have forsaken thee
Our months as one live on
In photographs and arty poems
and the coyote-call at dawn.

Yet now and then I'll grasp my chin
and wonder where you've been
your comfort everlasting,
whisk's enchanting my poor jaw.

lend me your brain, i'm building an idiot

well...what can i say about spain?
just look: http://www.flickr.com/photos/25952692@N04/
the first 3 pages are barcelona, and the next 5 are seville. unfortunately, i had outlet problems the last 4 days i was in barcelona, so there were no pictures of the sagra de familia, the beach, the 200 year old absinthe bar (yeah!) , the sorta lame metal bar we went to (they played sabbath, though!), or any of our other shinanigans.

it was really awesome to see chippy. i miss that dude a lot, and he's a good compinion. haha...what is a compinion? europe is large and old. the side-streets in both seville and barcelona were probably my favorite thing about the whole trip. sometimes we'd be walking for blocks and i wouldn't notice until i had to double over from the pain in my legs. totally worth it though, as every single thing was interesting. even the burger king was interesting. the hostels i stayed in were all pretty good, but i can't really say i got any good sleep. i tried and tried, though. i bought some shades and some trunks. i got joy a tiny porcelain jewel box (the lid of which was SMASHED by continental airlines), a ring made of dolphins, and a very smooth rock i found in the salt water. i drank a lot but i was vacationing so i decided to ignore my body's desperate cries for silly things like 'water' and 'air'. bad idea, but i'm alive.

you know how jimmy buffet is like the 'party dude'?? the guy who always has a drink in his hand and a joint in the other, donning a ridiculous shirt with parrots smoking rainbow turds, cargo shorts and a beer belly that would make even the ralphiest of kings say "GOD DAMN!!"

(by the way, as is written in the bylaws of the blogger.com blaw blog, you legally have to give me your appreciation for that king ralph reference. you must also appreciate any future references i may make to the movie TRON, bart simpson, hangin' with mr. cooper, the band heart, or lorenzo lamas.)

JIMMY BUFFET BRINGS THE PARTY. he stays up all night, huffing groupie piss and raping his guitar. he's a mastermind-party machine, wielding giant party tentacles and spewing jungle juice from his gold-plated beak onto his willing parrot heads. the party must be fed and who better to douse those greasy gears than the king of the parrots himself, James W. Buffet.

but...shit, man. where's it end?

what i mean to say is...i'd like to see jimmy buffet break down. i want to see him bashing his head against his bathtub and screaming for heroin and ripping his eyebrows out. it's funny to me. it's also funny to dwell on things like this when there's obviously more important things going on everywhere- the war, the elections, my job, anything else...but you'd be surprised how many times a day i think of jimmy buffet's death rattle with the benny hill theme song in the background. i'm a sick, sick man.

raging sharks

since i am currently shrieking down the time tube that is europe, i have no sleep and therefor no patience for the internet anymore. i know my blog will forgive me, but what of my readers? i ask only for your forgiveness for my lack of updates. there will be a big one later. barcelona in two days!! that means lisa, flannery and audrey. rad is the only syllable needed.

by the by, the title of this post refers to a corbin bernson flick that you should apparently check out.

swine leg

i am spain. my first night here we drank everything and went to the fair. LIGHTS! everywhere. gypsies hocking cigarettes. spanish girls trying to speak english to me. poorly. no grass anywhere. just yellow dirt. palm trees. tiny electric busses. traditional garb. wine and cheese. the jogger. i´m writing this prematurely because my trip is actually just starting. we took a bunch of pictures of the cathedral de sevilla (two years of spanish in high school and i can´t remember a thing, but two days in sevilla and i can comprehend so much more) today. that place is wicked. everything is very interesting and i don´t wanna waste a bunch of time on here, but i´ll let everyone know what´s up whenever i can get on these new-fangled internets.

you french great

way too busy to blog lately. sorry guys. i really dropped the e-ball on this one. it's hard to care, though, because of how much i don't. i leave for spain in 3 days?! that shit's insane. totally not ready, by the way, but i think we all saw that coming. i was thinking about that last night when i was sitting at 75th street brewery. in between dollar beers i would glance over at the trust fund hippie next to me who was blabbing about barack obama or fossil fuels or something and envision his brains dashed about on the floor. say the last 7 words of that sentence in a cockney accent and you'll understand how i felt. that guy reminded me of why i didn't like that other dude that i met in chicago...you know the one. anyway, this is dumb and my boss is making fun of me for blogging. i deserve everything i get, though. we also knew this.

"don't touch me with that beef!"

WHERE THE HELL IS CHARLES BRUSCATO?! the only reason i will attend my 10 year high school reunion will be to find this guy and give him a hug. we used to take the same way home from school. i can remember having to swerve repeatedly to avoid snickers bars, shrimp cocktails, roasted duck or whatever he had lying around his car. i'm talking about him like he's dead. i guess he really could be, but probably not since he has yet to open up a seedy night club, invest in a porn company, marry a tiny asian chick or fight chris penn in a cage for the title of "hairiest back." i've literally seen every fucking dick-licker from our class in the last 6 years except this guy. witness protection program? maybe he was involved in some kind of multi-national jewel heist and had to flee to his father's property in boca raton to start a surf-board shop as a cover for his underground drug and prostitution ring. i don't know why, but i always envisioned him going on to be really, really successful at something totally immoral. he probably just works at a radio shack in northeast and eats ham all day. FUCK. the possibilities are endless.

i just tried to call him. i looked his name up on the internet and saw a phone number for a charles bruscato who works at the jackson county courthouse. i knew it wasn't him but i called anyway. i was gonna pull some longmont shit but i couldn't come up with anything good. i really need to work on prank calling more people. this is stupid.

eat that shit up with a spoon

chicago-
THANKS:
-for the best burger i've had in years. the metallica burger from kuma's corner is fucking magical. it's comparable in size to the burger seen above. also, a bear/metal themed bar? how could you go wrong? oh yeah, by charging 10 dollars for every single thing on the menu. still pretty good for chicago.

-for hangin' on to some of my favorite people. give 'em back, though...LIKE NOW!

-as always, there are far too many people inside of you. the number one worst thing about chicago is the unnecessary sense of urgency and paranoia that fills my veins whenever i step out to go somewhere. that place is too fucking crowded. you can see 50 people you've never seen in a day and you will never lay eyes on them again. also, it shouldn't cost 4 dollars to take two busses, dicks. no wonder i stayed inside and drank so much.

MEGABUS- FUCK OFF. overbooking a bus? 200 people on an 80-seater??! how do you fuck that up? oh, right, you wait in st. louis for 2 hours while you rent another bus to carry all these fucking assholes to chicago. 12 hours on a bus. ridiculous.
also, can you stop showing the WORST fucking movies i've ever seen?!?! movies i've seen so far on the megabus...
NOW YOU CAN SEE WHY I HAVE NO DICK. i ripped it off when brittany murphy said "i'll never tell" and threw it out the window. still, i made it back in one piece.

i am now computer-less. i have a feeling i'm going to be attaching that suffix to a lot of things in my life here pretty soon. perhaps blog-less too. boo. i was just getting used to this thing.

3/7/08 - Haunted Kitchen

smiling is now metal.

there's more here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/23284950@N00/

maximum death

ah, tuesday. my monday. how the hell are ya? it seems like it's been ages since we've seen each other. what's that? you like my tie? well, that's a pretty strange thing to say, mr. tuesday. you know i don't wear ties. you must have had a bit too much of mr. cotton's candy. i think your delirious. have a seat. hey, listen buddy- i was wondering if you could do me a favor. could you keep your dick out of my ass for at least one 24 hour period? i know we only see each other weekly, but sometimes you're a little rough around the edges if you catch my drift.

gross.

here was my weekend:
FRIDAY: thrashed hard in freezing basement. it was drunk in there. a little too drunk, if you know what i mean.
SATURDAY: it was definitely too drunk in there. pounding head/suicidal thoughts all day. worth it. that night, i went to see street legal at george's house. then i ended up somewhere i never thought i'd ever be again.
SUNDAY: joy and i saw semi-pro and loved it (for the most part). ate food.

HEY! i saw the shining last night for free at the tivoli. seen it before, but never on the big screen. great flick. shelly long's performance is first annoying as hell and then hilariously terrifying (see: running up the steps with a knife, flailing her arms around like an octopus thrown in a fryer). i found out that right before that movie was made, jack nicholson discovered that his sister was his mother, and his mother was his grandma. that would be quite a mind-fuck at 40 years old, i'd imagine. at least he still had morticia. then he went crazy on cocaine. THEN he made the shining. if you've seen it, then you'll understand what i mean when i say that it's full of "kubrick-isms." these delightful little 'choices' (aka 'fuck-ups') throughout the film add a lot of mystery. for instance, why the hell would jack be the caretaker in 1921? makes no sense. wasn't in the book. that was a lot of kubrick's shtick, i guess...leaving everything open-ended. say what you want about his artistic liberties, but you CANNOT fuck with that guy when it comes to the technical side of making movies. i bet that dude could have taken apart any camera and put it back together himself. only better.
what a psycho, huh?

i'm going to chicago in 3 days!

p.s.- serpentor has to change our name. any ideas? i believe the only thing currently on the table is KILLMEISTER. i wonder how meister would feel about that.

quoth the hetfield: "fuckin' a, right!

can't stop listening to beatallica. i know they're silly and all, but when i find a good novelty musical act i HOLD ON TO IT. then i play it repeatedly to people who don't think it's as funny as i do or who aren't as high as i was when i first heard it. you know when you're all excited for someone else to experience something and then they seem all unimpressed? like they're actually gonna feel exactly like you did. pssh. anyway, get drunk and sing beatallica, it's awesome.
--------------------------------
Hey, dude - it s true not sad
Take a thrash song and make it better
Remember! That metal is in your heart
Then you can start to be a fretter

Hey, dude - don t be fuckin fraid
You were made to go be a shredder
The minute you let us under your skin
Then you ll begin to be a fretter

So crank your amp and deal the pain
Hey, dude - you re fuckin insane!
The rivers run red with blood of posers
And don t you know that he s the fool
Who plays it cool
But needs for his beer to be much colder

Hey, dude - never turn it down!
You must pound her, I mean Kip Winger
New wave of British heavy metal is in your heart
And you can start with Diamond Header s

So let it out! Let it in!
Hey, dude, begin
Don t wait for the Eye of the Beholder
You ll never know when bells toll for you
Hey, dude, you ll do
Just sling that flying-V cross your shoulder

Hey, dude - it s true not sad
Take a thrash song and make it better
Admit it! Metallica s under your skin!
So now begin to be a shredder
----------------------------
fast forward button, please. hopefully today won't be too dumb, because tonight is gonna SLAY! then i got more work saturday. i might ralph all over some volunteers' ice.

snowing in k.c. i gotta get the hell outta here!

what i've been listening to...

"Yer so dead, you're alive!"

chos bringer

man, i've had the best birthday weekend in years. thanks to everyone who wished me a happy birthday. i got free meals from genghis kahn, pierpont's, and gojo's, plus $300, a cd and a 7". not a bad pull at all, i'd say. i feel spoiled, to be honest. there was great weather all weekend too, but now it's turning shitty again. not a lot that can bring me down this week, though. serpentor's got our second show on friday at the haunted kitchen. not much else to say...i'm happy.

in/humanity was an excellent band. flight of the conchords is a really funny show.

cheer up...

at least you're not this guy.
(what if this guy really was 80 feet tall?! are those inches? what?)

birthday approaching. papa lobster, the bridge and i are going out to eat tonight.... i'm not sure where. i get to pick...any suggestions? i was thinkin' STEAK but i also love pizza. the difference is that i can usually afford pizza on my own. gotta milk this steak opportunity. help me out!

as of last night SERPENTOR HAS 9 ORIGINALS!! david and i write differently but that's good. he's teaching me about metal and i'm teaching him about...other stuff? anyway, it's a good partnership.

the bosshole is out of town so i'm runnin' the shop. not too hard. i've discovered that being someone's boss is really easy because all they need are answers. they'll respect you as long as you aren't a dick. as long as i give everyone some kind of answer we'll stay afloat. we made 1200 bucks yesterday. we usually make between 1000-1400 so i guess we're doing average.

I HAVE NOTHING INTELLIGENT TO SAY AT ALL!!! chris is having a party for perry and me tomorrow night (perry graduated. big whoop. "IT'S MY PARTY AND I'LL DIE IF I WANT TO!!!"). should be pretty fun. i'm care-free and cruisin' for a bruisin'. don't worry, it's been happening for years, i always get back up.

the elusive nick blinko (good, evil and rockin')

1997...
1994:back in the 80's:

libido

i've been trying to train myself in techniques that will keep me from ripping off people's heads. i can get pretty worked up when there's nine people asking me questions that i don't give a fuck about. oh, the worst is when someone asks me to do something, a favor to them, and i'm doing it and they decide they need another favor, only this one's more important so then i freak out because there's TOO MUCH- NOT ENOUGH TIME. only nobody seems to notice or care because it's just me freaking out, not them, and then the whole time this is happening i'm just getting more and more FRANTIC, and then they start to freak out because i'm now ripping my own hair out and screaming bloody fucking murder but i guess it's all just because my dad was never around.

some of said techniques:
1. keeping a positive mental attitude.
2. not forgetting the struggle and also remembering the streets.
3. keeping it real.
4. trying to distract myself with word games and puzzles in tense situations (read: avoiding things).
5. if you simply slice your aggressor in half with a machete you can easily avoid decapitating them.
6. drinking apple juice in the mornings.
7. smoking a lot of weed.

workin man

i've been thinking about writing a little lately. after i graduated, i decided to take a total 180 from my life at the time. it's been about nine months since i moved back to k.c., started my new job, a new band, lots of new friendships, lots of old friendships, and a wonderful new relationship. i feel pretty good about the decisions i've made to get where i am, but i think i've started to take things for granted lately and i need a "reality check" as it were. i'm not asking for trouble, and i know a resolution is not going to just drop out of the sky, but i'm sick of just staying afloat. i realize that i'm the master of my own destiny and all, but i feel like more shit should be moving. that's why i said i'd been thinking about writing. i mean...technically, i do have a BA even if they don't send it to me. i think i might start trying to contribute to the pitch because every time i read it it gets less and less like reading a magazine and more and more like opening a scorpion cage and sticking my head in for 20 minutes. i'd also like to do some tutoring...maybe at umkc or jccc. just so i can dress up the old resume a bit. anyway, i think i lost sight of why i really liked writing in the first place on account of my school sucking serious nards there at the end. i've taken too long of a break from reading too, and if i had more time during the week i totally would indulge in that regard. i'm not really looking to writing as a career at this point because of all the other stuff going on. i'm not ready to devote my life to writing yet, i suppose. if i were ready, i would wake up in the morning and write immediately. all day. like a job. that's what writers do. but i have another job. and i like this job. i really do. but i am going to have to see about a raise...

ideally, i'd like to be playing shows all week and sending at least one piece of writing out to be published a week. i'd also still like to have my job at that point, so i better quit dickin' around and do this shit already! never a dull moment! love you guys.
ben

high stakes

i've had a busy weekend! serpentor played 6 songs at fred p. ott's last night. mostly had a good time except that place is full of chads* and i wanted to throw up after words. they kicked zack out for being young when he'd been there selling merch for almost the whole show. dicks. it was a good turnout, but p. ott's is definitely a snug space for a band to play.

THE TANKA RAY SHOW WAS FUCKING RAD. they played a lot of old awesome shit that p.j. had never played before. that band will rule forever and always. there were a lot of cool people i hadn't seen in a long time. it sucks that it takes tanka ray playing to get anyone to come out anymore, but hey- i aint complainin'. they played covers by fear naked raygun and cretin 66. they played most of dirty voices and some stuff for the skinheads off the first record. perry rocked out harder than most of the people in attendance. awesome.

doin' real bad
tryin to get laid
my future's so tight
i gotta wear shades

there ya go, there's my little nugget of wisdom for the day. do with it what you will. not my most inspired blog ever but it's all i got after this long weekend. i hope everyone's doing well.

*slang term meaning 'bro' or 'brah' aka todds or geoffs.

oi oi stupid skinhead

frownies

no skeletonwitch for me. boo.

i gotta work. if i could afford my own gas i'd totally book it down there after i got off but alas...winter is the broke time.
i'll have fun at that yazz party though. maybe eat some rotel, listen some bird, do some coke...whatever.

here's hopin' everyone is splendid, and if you're drinkin'...HAVE A DRINK ON ME!!!"come on, come on neeeeeewwws with scrappy dobbins!"

i will decide

tomorrow night i'm going to do everything within my power to get to joplin, mo and see:

awesome!

no more room in hell

i can't believe there's people who haven't seen this movie. mookie! why the fuck haven't you seen this? i'm pretty sure you just forgot or something because you wrote it and directed it. anyway, we watched it the other night and it is terrifically silly/awesome. jerk, you should also see it if you haven't because you play the little metalhead with glasses who unlocks the secrets to the gate of hell with this 'record album' by norwegian metal band SACRIFYX. steven dorff's first movie! feature's these lines of dialogue!
AL: "what are you two doing in there?"
AL'S FRIEND: "probably fagging off."

practice tonight! then moving to our new practice spot at storagemart. it looks like i'm going to be watching a lot of lost on the internet since i'm the only one in my band who gives a shit about it and we practice every thursday for at least 3 hours. my only troubles at the moment are financial. i guess that's a good thing. that, and i feel like i need to see a lot of people who are very important that don't live here. oh well, that's why i have trips planned!

doctor said i need a backiotamy

my morning has been like an episode of the drew carey show or something equally retarded. i woke up to snow everywhere. i thought i might not have to go into work but alas, the work week waits not for the weak or some skinhead bullshit. so basically, i had to go in. i take 3 highways to work, so in the snow that meant my morning commute was doubled time-wize. so i go really slow and i'm really careful and i make it down into KCK without any problems. i make it into my parking lot, park successfully (i'm absolutely the only person around for like 40 square miles), stop my car, get out and WHOOPSIE DAISY! turns out boots+snow+getting out of a car= me splayed out on my back in the middle of this parking lot doing my best jesus christ pose. if you haven't been keeping up, my back is TERRIBLE. this one muscle in the middle of my back has been giving me so much shit. it's like richard pryor running a marathon and then he gets that pain in his side that's like "hello, i'll be fucking with you for the duration of this marathon, don't try to resist." all pain hurts so much more in the winter. fuck this shit.

raining mud

it's pouring rain in kansas city and will be all day. snow will come tomorrow. it sucks that i'm at work and not voting right now. i can also imagine myself being very happy with a steak at this juncture in my life. a steak would be tangible at this point.

HAD A PRETTY RAD TIME THIS WEEKEND.
friday night: went and saw LEON THE PROFESSIONAL at screenland with a bunch of folks. THAT MOVIE RULES EVERYTIME! afterwords david and suzie had some people over. david demands to listen to megadeth at all times. this is an admirable trait. he named his fucking cat megadeth. that's awesome. nachos, dude.
CHEERS to drinking beer in a movie theater.
JEERS to having to wake up at 8:30AM Saturday.

saturday night: we went to see the architects/outlaw at the architects practice space. it's right next to pancho's. it's the place you always see hipsters running in and out of and you're kinda like "where are those guys going?" but then you really DON'T CARE that much because you're wasted and for some reason that means you're going to pancho's. man, if the police really want to control underage drinking they should just turn pancho's into some kind of drunk trap/deathcamp. "don't you worry, it's only a burrito" i really can't even eat that shit. i tried once, and it didn't work out in the slightest.
afterwords, we partied at chez charlie's and then my house. it was good to see clare, wish it could have been for longer though.
CHEERS to outlaw and architects for both turning in solid preformances/clare for being awesome and in town for like 36 hours.
JEERS to dumb kids who only come to myspace shows.

sunday: ate breakfast at mama's (i still haven't been able to finish even a HALF order of biscuits and gravy from here. i'm not a breakfast eater, really. though, we usually go when i'm hungover and not high so...how do you really expect me to eat anything?), hung out at thraknar's house and then went out to nick's for the SUPERBOWL. terry bradshaw cussed on the air (I'M SURE OF IT), the game was pretty fucking boring until the end, most of the commercials were dumb, but we all had a good time. nick's mom's food was MOST EXCELLENT, and the company was totally non-heinous. jimmy, fran, dracula, flan, lisa, chris, larry, judge, nick, isaac, chas, joy and i all had an awesome time.
CHEERS to the ah-loe's for being very accomidating/the giants for fucking owning the lame-ass patriots.
JEERS to stupid talking babies making me feel weird.

i'm looking forward to chicago and spain and my birthday in the next few months here. the valentine's day present i wanna get joy is $60 bucks. maybe if i work really hard the ol' bosshole will give me a nice fat valentine's day raise!!! fingers crossed!

warzone

being at quiktrip on main at 9:30 in the morning is a lot like fighting the war in iraq. i'm sure of it because i've obviously done both things so wouldn't i know? the only difference at quiktrip is that it's every man for himself. your weapons are corn dogs and hot coffee. your objective is to collect as many nutrition foods as possible- AND TO GET OUT ALIVE. dodge that terrorist disguised as an 8 year old boy! he's flailing that super rope pretty fast, so hurl yonder bear claws with precision and skill. now, advance to the next stage. oh no! hot coffee all over the fucking floor! shit! now they're attacking you with the mop! but they're just mopping everywhere around your feet except where you're standing! it's a torture tactic. a mind game. terror is 99% mental and 100% mental. a famous terrorist said that once. he was insane. with terror. maybe it was this one who is NOW SPRAYING NACHO CHEESE OUT OF HIS MOUTH. quick! use the freezer door as a shield. retaliate! fling some chips!

...and that's how you'll end the war in iraq. nachos. everyone knows terrorists like to party.

i got the van back. turns out i don't need to do much mcguyvering but i do have to be careful when turning it off. it's good to have it back. i decided not to get that kramer guitar and hold out for something else. with a $250 heating bill i can't really afford to rock that hard. bummer. i wish to visit CHICAGO before i go to spain. that would be most excellent. i wanna make fun of mookie, and shred some metal with alex, go bowling with sam and neal, have a fatty smoke sesh with joe and frances, eat some fuckin pizza with lauren, abby and sarah, participate in blunt tuesdays with joe weitteroth, tell zaylor to get the hell out of there, give laura a big hug and tell her she's my number 1 even though she's sort of a b, you know- THE FUN STUFF. so, i think i'm gonna try and do that. right now.

edit: chicago, see you march 14th-18th.

yeah? well fuck you too!

the thing is my favorite horror movie. it's simply the best. best story, direction, acting, special effects and setting. even the dopey score by john carpenter is awesome. it's definitely in my top 5 as far as movies go. i'm dumb and depressed today. there was no snow. it's snowing everywhere in kansas and missouri except for kansas city. that's sorta funny. clare will be in town this weekend. that'll be fun. k, well...gotta go pick up my van now. my brother 'fixed' the ignition. apparently it's held together with tape and glue so i think i have to start it with a toothpick now. GAME OVER MAN.

matt damon

alright, i got a little goof troop yesterday but that's how i run shit around here. you never know what's gonna happen at blood pile!

i'm happier than i've been in years so fuck off.

google image result for 'pain':



searches for 'dump' and 'load' were inconclusive.

the longer my hair gets, the more i have to fight the temptation to cut it. it's starting to get all up in my eyes. when i take a shower? forget about it...i come out of there looking like cousin it. it's really easy to dry my hair though, all i have to do is put on that new saviours record. 2 tracks and 500 headbangs later and i'm still keepin' it tight.

google image result for 'goro':


i saw blade runner last night for the first time. i sort of wish harrison ford got to be more of a badass (e.g. the fugitive ford, not the "I JUST WANT MY FAMILY BACK!" ford). i kinda fell asleep at one point and felt bad later because the end was pretty awesome even though i kinda lost track of what was actually happening.

google image result for 'gene shallot':

^that one's from probush.com

still broke and vanless but trudging on nonetheless. it's supposed to snow 3-5 inches in k.c. tomorrow. sort of a bummer. we'll still have practice regardless and all freeze our asses off all night. it's just that fun! there's still snow on the ground right now from yesterday. chicagoans, remember- staying in with a nice warm bottle of whiskey is always, ALWAYS better than ANYTHING you could be doing outside during january. just hibernate.

google image result for "rundown hobo gnaws rabbit leg":


i'm in the lead on ebay for this kramer guitar:
nothin' fancy, but i don't want anything fancy. i want my first "metal" guitar to be sorta punk rock too. that's why the strat body does nicely with that thrashin'-ass headstock. i love discontiued guitars from the 80's that probably sound like shit. what can i say.

time for lunch!

p.s.- if you're ever bored just search for 'fat guy' on google.

balls to the wall

i wish i was blind so EVERYONE WOULD GET OUT OF MY SIGHT.
the van was recovered. all my stuff's gone. at least this is the worst thing that's happened to me since i've moved back to k.c. that and that other thing.

alright- look, personal stuff aside, i really feel like there's an important issue to be discussed here. it's 2008 people, we're here- IT'S ACTUALLY HAPPENING. it's time we used these modern internets to discuss some real issues. for instance- i am really concerned about pat sayjack. you know- the wheel guy. you might even say he's the wheel deal. one of america's (and yes, indeed-the world's) most beloved entertainers seems to suffer from dick's clark disease. you know, the one where you don't age. i think ol' paddie mcsayjack may have even slipped his disease inside of vanna WHITE too because she also looks the same. as before. you know...from then.

i'm only 23 and i look radically different than i did at 5. like, totally. if i saw some of my homies from back in the pre-k daze i doubt they'd even recognize me. but hey, that's real. that's the streets. that's how it is rolled. we were pretty wild back then though. we huffed so much play-doe i can't believe i'm even sitting here typing right now. lil' cyrus and i could put at least 5 cases of that shit away DAILY. you may be saying "how the hell could 5 year olds huff play-doe and WHY?! and wait...huffing play-doe? what- do you like heat it up or something?" man, if you have to ask you've obviously never had a ride on the cosmic wave that is PD.

alright alright alright. we have a lot of fun here at blood pile. and by 'we' i mean me.

broke

saving money is hard. especially when you don't have any. i did buy a fancy madison 4 12 cab that i could not afford at all! i don't mind being broke for that. i find myself wanting a lot of things. really, only one more thing- a new guitar. i want to buy a jackson or a kramer. i would love to find some crazy neon thrasher kramer guitar from the 80's. i'd even do stripes. i don't care. that's how in to cheesey guitars i am.

i'm not broke enough to miss THE FLOOD and Brutal Fucking Midget Circus at the haunted kitchen tonight. it's gonna be fucking freezing but whatever. gotta go!

i recognize that name

[editor's note: in the wake of heath ledger's suicide and the ensuing paparazzi craziness, i have decided to join in. I have inserted random, mostly false facts about celebrities sporadically throughout my post in an effort to raise awareness to people who google actors names that actors are douchebags.]

first off- bobcat goldthwait and dear abby mexican knife-fighting need to get out of my dreams and into my car.
glad we got that out of the way. ted danson melts to death in meth lab explosion, revealing actual identity as terminator. my back pain has returned in half force. i'm in the vicious cycle of winter where all i want to do is stay in my house when i'm not at work because it's freezing. i heard gilbert gottfried was disovered getting a hand j from an ethiopian boys' soccer team. on x.
i'm hoping to get my van back today. it's almost been a week. THESE FUCKERS ARE RUNNIN' ME DRY, MAN! - the last words of actor dennis hopper, who died from a self-inflicted shotgun blast to the chin while driving his already-flaming lamborghini into a walmart this monday. even if the van isn't fucked i'm sure i need a new vehicle soon. i'm thinking about a truck. i am not thinking about a jeep because fuck those things.

sorry to cut this short, guys, but i have to do stuff. kevin bacon arrives at LA county hospital with forrest whitaker's head completely shoved up his ass. haley joel osment, a fellow scientologist and close friend to the couple declined to comment.

why don't you write me a song about why the hell i'd wanna do that?

well, they found the van over the weekend. it was taken from my house into KCK and discovered about a mile or two from where i work. i still couldn't get it back today because they threw the title out the window when they stole it, so we've gotta get one of those. i didn't see the inside but the steering column is definitely broken and the seats were taken from the back. jeez. this sucks. fucking haters.

bastard from a basket

saw THERE WILL BE BLOOD last night. wow. brutal fucking movie- and not in the way you would think either. daniel day-louis has fucking outdone himself again. this time he's playing THE DEVIL in the form of an insane oil tycoon around the turn of the 20th century. if you thought he was evil at all in gangs of new york then prepare for a NEW kind of evil. this one's kinda funny too. anyway, i liked it. be wary though, it's 3 hours long.

-only 3 people will care about this...
Chas sent me a text at 5:45 this morning about this band...
Thank God
it's the bassist, guitarist, and drummer from guyana punch line, one of the best bands ever. what's funny is the singer sounds like chris bickell when he was in in/humanity, only there's not 900 tracks of him- ALL WITH 80 YEARS OF REVERB. there's horns too. it's interesting. i feel like this could have come out in 2001. actually...this shit is awesome. i've just decided.

tonight there's a going away party for joelle at thraklizard's. you should be there. i'm going to be very, very, very drunk.

corpse load

my van was stolen from outside of my house last night. totally bummed. it happened some time between when i went to sleep at midnight and when i woke up at 8:30. there was nothing of value in it really- my pipe, some pictures from my graduation, a bottle of "clancy's" wine, etc. at least none of my gear was in there. the police say they have a 50/50 chance of getting it back. great. john's dad said someone probably just wanted a ride home because it was cold. could very well be the case.

so...fuck that.

on the bright side, i booked my trip to spain. i'll be there april 6th-22nd. i wish it was tomorrow because i could use a vacation IMMEDIATELY.

well, i guess i should thank my stars and bars that i even had a vehicle for as long as i did. v
later guys

black diamond

i don't care if i die from old age, no matter what i want all of my skin taken off my skull and i want it covered in diamonds. how wicked would it be to come to my open-casket funeral and see me in a tuxedo with a DIAMOND SKULL? immensely wicked is the answer.

it was perry's 23rd last night. we went to chez charlies and had a good time. why does that jackass always get the good birthdays?

we went to this dumb bar the night before last called "one eighty" in westport. i remember spending a lot of time trying to listen to my friends over the awful house music that was blasting and then scanning the room to try and figure out WHAT KIND OF PERSON would ever visit this den of shit. all these people were my age or younger. where do you come from?!?! anyway, there was this dumb broad with a camera that kept taking pictures for us and giving us fliers for thenightsite.com

you can't see anything, but that's matt judge's back on the right and maybe jenny on the left and then there's chris with the scarf and the rest is just...terrible.

lauren just informed me that BRAD RENFRO is DEAD! the star of the client and happy campers?! at 25?! well, i guess my life-plan (or should i say my death-plan) has finally been realized. i've always known in my heart that brad renfro was the second coming of christ but had not TRULY understood until hearing this news. brad renfro, crucified on a cross of wine coolers and pain killers, WILL RISE AGAIN! i think we would all do well to follow the ways of renfro. quick-everyone quit your jobs and schools and start a shitty movie career!! then stop giving a fuck about anything and become the jaded hollywood tool you were meant to be. then die in your house. i think i used to think this kid was cool because he was in the client. i would always read my mom's crappy grishams when i was younger.

i'm gonna go, everyone have good days!

bloomin' funyans

sometimes i get really pissed off and then remember that life is a joke. that sums up today, pretty much.

we're moving our practice space to storage mart feb. 15th because the anchor is opening back up. this is sort of a good/bad thing. i think the goods outweigh the bads, though. for one, storage mart is climate controlled (no more frozen fingers!), close to the tuley hut, and eric's dumb rock n' roll band (the black tarantulas) won't practice in our space anymore. nice band name. show me a red tarantula and maybe we can talk. in the mean time, stop sleeping where you can't sleep and stop having bounty hunters show up looking for you when we're practicing! sorry, it just sucks. but that shit's almost over.

i got a new t.v. /t.v. cabinet from my work. it's baller-esque but still not as fly as zaylor's GIGANTIC big screen over at chris/lisa's. watching american gladiators on that t.v. is just as good as the best blow j you've ever given/received.

i miss everybody. come back home!

fuck your son, i hope he fucking dies!!!

dudes, have you seen dystopia's new look? it's so sick...

also, check out the new serpentor: