QOTSA

COLE

Quote of the day

I'm a romantic; a sentimental person thinks things will last, a romantic person hopes against hope that they won't. F. Scott Fitzgerald

what we do is fall, all the time - and we get back up...

punkrockghettohiphophour show pt3

A small life

I stole two bananas this morning

In broad daylight

From under noses

After walking in, under the half moon

Over a pile of old coleslaw on the curb

To which someone had helpfully added

A small plastic knife and fork set

After screaming into the night

Over things that really don’t matter

The gods covering their ears

The cats listening from rooftops unimpressed

It’s good to keep yourself on your toes

Touch life

Test the world from time to time

Make sure it’s all still there

Still tangible

The rules of the everyday

Do not apply as much as you’d think

Even if you don’t do anything of note

Even if you are not regarded by others

And just go about your small life

Content and happy and just getting

By

That’s ok

That's alright

Just don’t forget to

Keep tasting the fruit once in a while.

punkrockghettohiphophour show pt2

Zizek

punkrockghettohiphophour show

11th hour

A sober epiphany

It is the night before

It is a walk into battle without a rifle

I find myself suddenly needing to play catch up

The masks drop for long enough for me to

Remember and

        long enough is not long at all

And I am fragile and I am small

I carry a deck of 52 aces

Black hearts every one

They have got me this far and now refuse to

Serve me any further

A Bösendorfer sends me down the rabbit hole

The sinking feeling nourishing and deadly as

I hold my breath and decide whether to ever

Let go

And it is almost time

Almost tomorrow

Then I see it again

The film still

The portrait

Bleached out

Morning country

Winter air

Mountains

The opposing blade to here and

Now

And what would once have been hell to me

That being the fault of wise elders

The conditioning by family

Who knew better

Or were just scared to death themselves

And wanting to protect a child

The white keys begin their fade

And I know the end is due

It comes without fail

Without surprise

And silence remains

And the image remains

Secret desire

An infamous chill

Then the small face

Two eyes ready to be filled with

Whatever I choose…

Cold water from the streams

Runs down my back

Smooth rocks underfoot unsteady me

For the first time I question

What I have done

Everything again a divers weight on my chest

Taking me down and

I am encased in cotton wool and silken thread

Forced toward an ever long metamorphosis

I am not running out of time

I am immortal and unwilling

I have all the time the gods hand out

These days I just have no idea what to

Do with it

And I am fragile and I am small

And I carry a deck of 52 aces

All black hearts

53 if you count the one that keeps me

Running

So I break out the claws

And turn my back on myself

Sit, sip, wait to get pulled into the whirlpool

It is almost time

Almost tomorrow

My journey to the centre of the earth.

KRKD

Hem

Old short story.

Busenitz

Ken Norton

 

“Ali defeated everyone mentally first. With Frazier, Ali had him so mad Joe was trying to kill him with every shot. With Foreman, he tried to kill him with every shot. Mentally, Ali could not defeat me and physically I felt I was as much a physical power as Ali was. He couldn't upset me in any way.” RIP

Sirens

Hesitation (high) Marks

 

After a few days of solid listening, I can’t think why many people are calling this Nine Inch Nails album underwhelming or in some cases, boring. If you’ve pretty much created – and then reigned over – a music genre for 10 years, you have the ‘right to do what you want’ card. Maybe some people wanted a Downward Spiral follow-up? That would be equivalent to late-career hip hop albums made my millionaires, still rhyming about shooting people in drug deals… fuck those records. 

Among other achievements, Trent Reznor is sober, older and a parent and goddamn if the latter two alone aren’t enough to change your outlook and output. There is still an underlying bleakness to the record, partly due to the production being a tad sparse, closer to Pretty Hate Machine than say With Teeth, though obviously much more refined than the former. 

Which leads back to the point of Hesitation Marks being an evolution… if this was a How to Destroy Angels release, everyone would love it I’m sure. But putting that NIN logo on the cover creates a huge expectation from most ‘fans’ and less importantly, music critics. The album as a whole is admittedly pretty ‘mid-tempo’ and also more electronic/less organic than others, but so what? It’s not a Downward Spiral or a Fragile because those records regardless of how ‘timeless’ they were, are, like all art in one respect, a snapshot of their time and of the mind of their creator. Also from a personal point of view - you buy the vinyl and get a free CD version with it. #winning.

It’s about everything, as usual.

The radiators click and whine

As the air bubbles slip around inside the pipes
And I bury my head under a mound of feminine pillows
Rub my feet together a few times
To warm my cold bones

The outside world has begun its annual attack
The front door creaks while the glass in the windows
Quietly vibrates from the coming storm
I force myself up to find clothing, armour

Then I can see for miles - across the city one way
And over houses and hills to the back
There are great cracks and holes in the darkness
Blue light shining through here and
There

The real turns to abstract
Turns it back on you
Like walking through a mirror
From the other side

Any sense of control is lost
You are caught in a silent maelstrom 
Carried on the wing of all your anxieties
And so you swim with it
It is instinct to not fight

Then a moment
Grey and formless
You see a razor slip of white light
Passing and then gone
And that moment of clarity keeps you in check
Sane and grounded
Charged and ready and waiting for the next go round

And the sky begins its descent as you look up, face it and
Breathe and breathe and
Breathe
It
In.

Dr Hfuhruhurr..?

 

Once you know what it is, this apparently innocuous picture of a blob assumes a terrible gravity. It is an adult human brain that is entirely smooth – free of the ridges and folds so characteristic of our species' most complex organ. We can only imagine what life was like for this person. He or she was a resident of what is now North Texas State Hospital, a mental health facility, and died there in 1970, but that's all we know. While the jar containing the brain is labelled with a reference number, the microfilm containing the patient's medical records has been lost. From NS.

The flux of white butterflies

He said the world was full of white butterflies

And footsteps of blood

He said

Bigger did not mean better and that

White walls and obvious juxtaposition

Though useful to the artist,

Should never be considered art

He said we were never meant to live beneath the sun

But rather, burrow deep within ourselves

Consume and ultimately become eternal fire

He said the world was full of words

Masquerading as images and vice versa

That

Some of those words were made up of colours

Only ever seen at the

Heart of an exploding star

And some images, seemingly deep

Were in reality wading pools of bleach

On white canvas

Of all these things, all I could find to

Convince myself anything was true -

Were the butterflies in the sky and

Blood red tracks

On the staggered concrete behind me.

countdown (again)

 

Off to Brixton next week to see these lads. At least this time we'll be indoors out of the rain... 

'I feel big...'

Trenta-palooza

Heroin footy

Cassini

 

the Pixar theory

 

Like Pixar? Like Conspiracy theory? Read this.

MJ Interview

some real talk from Marc Johnson

Two hundred dustbins

It is the hottest day of the year

There are 200 dustbins to walk past

Every morning

On the way to sit down and work so I can get paid

And one day live somewhere there is less garbage

Crushed mint

Vaseline

Music of the gods

And a 14^th moon is found

Out there where the lack of air is a gift

Where the closer to the sun you get

The further away from breathing you are

And you need one more line for balance

Space

Time

Absolute quiet

But that line never comes

So you grind teeth and swallow bourbon

And sit in the sun and bake

Trying to see past the burning light

Without actually

Ascending

I turn up the volume

Push up my sunglasses

Look up to try and find moon 14.

Bye bye CBI

A quick post to mourn the passing of a great blog - the Chrome Ball Incident has been logging a serious amount of real skateboard history for a long time now. It was bound to end, as all good thinigs do, but the site - not to mention the integrity with which the posts were written and handled overall - remains truly indispensable.Good work.

Lost cat

A sign on the tree outside the house

 - Lost cat -

Cute photo

Etc

I think we saw it yesterday

I think, maybe

So I call to say ‘don’t get your hopes up – but I think…’

Etc

Been there, done that

So I call, let her know what I saw and hang up

When I look at the photo a second time

I see the picture is of my face

I little greyer

A little fluffier

But it's me no doubt about it

I check my pockets

Count ten fingers and ten toes

And am pretty certain that I am not lost

So I walk down the path and in the front door

A moment later there’s a knock

I turn and open it and am greeted by a large woman

Holding a small porcelain horse

you called she says

In a vague eastern European accent

            can you give me more info she says

I couldn’t but tried anyway

Been there

Done that

She thanked me and left

I closed the door and went to the bathroom

Washed my face and checked the mirror for signs of cat

Nothing

And nothing much else

Really

I look down

Ten toes

I’m not lost

I’m right here

Right?