Bring It On Home To Me

 

Can't seem to get enough of these cats these days. dig.

All the young dudes/ Jesus Jack Sparrow

In all my laziness i've decided to cop out and go all daddy blog bullshit and post nothing, i mean really the only blogs that are any good are the ones where housefrau's gush about their progeny so in an inept attempt to boost my stats and generate ad revenue i'll just go on and on about the chillen, cuz like Wu-tang i'm for the chillen, at least mine anyway, so while i waste away the hours watching my favorite hockey club piss away another year y'all can all look at this or that or the other.  Catch you later. 

 

 

We're gonna need a bigger boat..

tache

You talking to me?

Parklife

King Ripple Chip

 

 

Jesus Jack Sparrow and the Resurrection Eggs

April Fool

There are few places i love more on this planet than my favorite watering hole, it's dark and smoky and they serve the world's best wings and have a killer juke (my selections: the Fall, Link Wray, T. Rex, Violent Femmes, Buzzcocks, just to name am few), i've been going there for damn near twenty years now, have gone from hell raising youngster to elder hipster statesman, i've outlived Jesus by almost a decade and soon will pass JFK, i have been in fights, have drank until 5am while pouring my own beers, have made women swoon and been a fucking pain in the ass, in general it's like a second home to me though i don't get there as much as i used to living in the lily white suburbs...

On this fine night i was enjoying a dozen or so cheap cervezas and hanging out with a couple of the burgh's finer derelicts, not really waiting for the local punk bands to start playing but not really being bothered by it either, when the Furious one, who is a known to be a loose cannon came over and was laughing about running into the biggest guy in the bar, apparently the guy was a bit of an ass and was loading in equipment for said bands but it was no harm no foul and i laughed as the Furious one told of sneakily sizing him up and thinking better of it, it pays to get older and have the wisdom that comes with it, i'm sure in the old days it would have kicked off straight away but these days we are not looking to fight or cause trouble just have a few beers and relax...

Of course it was then that i began relating my theory that most bar fights are won or lost before a punch, bottle or knife is ever thrown and it's the psychological edge that determines the winner or even it if takes place long before the dance starts, and so at one point i made it a point to bump into the behemoth and granted he was a big, barrel-chested type but i'm not a wee little thing myself and though he had a good 50 lbs on me i put into practice my theory just to see, there was a moment of locking eyes and sizing up and somewhere in the middle of it he smiled and said sorry man and i was like no worries man, of course it dawned on me that i'm damn near 43 years old and really should not be acting like a fucking knob just to prove a theory but it was proved nonetheless, of course these days i'm fucking fighting weight and as i told my old man it only took 42 years for my shoulders to fill out, my other point to my com padres also being it's not the guy who can go one round you worry about but the guy who can go five, if you make it through the first the tables suddenly tilt, it also helps to have tasted your own blood and some point in your life so as not to shit the bed...

You can take the boy out of the city but you can't take the city out of the boy i guess and the rest of the night was spent making up our own lyrics to the stock and trade Rust Belt punk being blurted out from the back room, it was a right laugh and many beers were drank and one to many cigarettes smoked (i quit you know, sorta) and as i made my way down the quiet streets of the sleeping burbs i could only smile at the serenity of it all, creeping into my house to carry the I-mac to his bed, tucking him in and kissing his head, tip-toeing into Nick Disaster's room to cover him up and kiss his curly mop, it didn't take Al Einstein to point out to me what really fucking matters and to think a bit more before testing out one of my half-assed theories...

and then the sun rose and i spent saturday sitting on a park bench in the sun watching the boyos rule some large wooden castle with slides and swings and shit to climb, playing first pirates, then knights and then a combination of both which i told them might be vikings with a laugh...

Phosphorescent - Muchacho's Tune

Where ya been? Here and there, nodding off on park benches or couches, sometimes in the library, i walk alot, sometimes i just stare blankly out the window until it all fades into a brilliant blue nothingness, it almost seems like a dream, then i realize i'm not sleeping...

Razz-Matazz

Well kids i'm suitably high enough to do this little exercise here, in fact i'm not exactly sure what i'm doing but it seems i've been tapped to answer some questions and give some random factoids about El Kono, of course remember i've got drug and alcohol problems and to compound that i've got another fucking tooth that's driving me insane and since the dentist didn't hook me up with any relief i'm medicating myself and i think we all know how that shit turns out but onwards and upwards and sidewards... and we can all blame Rassles over at www.rassles.net for this fiasco, i gotz to do that cuz i can't figure out how to link shit in my present state... or in any fucking state for that matter but c'mon c'mon let's go...

1.  What are my top five favorite movies (see above site for exact question)... well in no particular order uh i don't know, i don't watch many fucking movies but let's see... big surprise here Barfly starring Mickey Rourke and Faye Dunaway, Jaws cuz i can recite like the whole fucking thing, The Big Lebowski for obvious reasons, Repo Man or anything involving the great Harry Dean Stanton and the last one... hmmm... i guess i'll go with Pulp Fiction cuz i'm not supposed to go more than five, though i'd throw in the Monty Python's and the Holy Grail and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest as honourable mentions, those are my favorites and i know i already broke the rules but as we should all be painfully aware of by now i don't really give a fuck about rules and shit...

2. If i could ask Werner Herzog one question what would it be?  What's with the fucking chicken man?

3. What would i want Werner's answer to be?  Nothing, it's just a fucking chicken.

4. If i could see any musician at any time in any venue what would it be and it could be some crazy shit?  Can i say a battle of the bands between Joy Division, The Smiths and the Fall at the shitty little Croatian Hall in Cleveland where i saw Suicidal Tendencies, circa 1987 and yes i know the Smiths had broken up at this point and Ian Curtis was dead but it's make believe right? the guest judges would be Charles Nelson Reilly, Dr. Noah Drake himself Rick Springfield and Paul Reuben's dressed as the vampire in the original Buffy the Vampire slayer movie...

5. What do i think of white boys with dreadlocks?  Well it's a well know fact that from 1993-1998 i was white boy with dreadlocks, of course back then any white boy with dreads was thought to be a fucking hippy and i was often accosted by hippies asking for peanut butter sandwiches and shit and it got really annoying, of course i was in my own vain and enigmatic way giving the finger to society (all in my own warped mind), as i waited til i got out of college to grow these things and today i really have no opinion of white boys with dreads as long as they let them go all fucking crazy, i had three very large ones in the back of my head and i do get annoyed with the dreads that looked as if they were done at a salon, if you're gonna do it go all the fucking way, of course if you plan on keeping them for more than a year or two be prepared to lose your hair later in life cuz white boys' hair ain't made for that shit...

6.  What is the largest kind of animal you could wrestle and emerge victorious?  I was going to say an Orca (just to toss in another movie, go on Richard Harris) but like Morrissey i don't condone violence against animals so i'd have to abstain from wrestling any animal, though i'd let somebody else butcher them, batter them, deep fry them and serve them to me on paper towels...

7.   What's the most beautiful sound i've ever heard?   The easy answer is where the ocean meets the land but that as until the boyos were born, now it is the sound of their voices, except of course when they're screaming, yelling or fighting... look at me getting all sentimental and shit...

8. Do you have a "No Fatties T-shirt"?  Fucking hell no what do you take me for some sort of neanderthal?

9.   What's the one book you want to make sure your boyos read?   There's to many but since it ain't my life but theirs i just hope they read anything they want, to instill a love of books into them would be the most important thing, i'd be happy enough, i'm sure they'll start picking through my library at some point in their lives, of course the obvious answer is the Rosy Crucifixion by Henry Miller but that's three books or maybe Oh, The Places You'll Go cuz Ted G. says it better than anybody, asking them to read Celine or Algren or Steinbeck wouldn't be to much to ask but at the end of the day all i want them to have is the same love of reading i do, the ability to lose yourself in a book, to shut out the busy, noisy world and sit down and contemplate things, the ability to read and write and think, really it's up to them and i can only take them so far...

10.  Three blogger walk into a bar? Finish the Joke... I fucking neck my drink and run out...

11.  How would you break out of prison?  Well if you break out you always have to look over your shoulder and hope you don't get caught cuz if you do you're going back again for even longer... what i'd do is make the best of it, like Red in that Shawshank place, you take over and run shit, might as well make prison as enjoyable as possible so corner the black market or at least a part of it and trade for all the fun stuff, you know, porn and drugs and that homemade booze they make and all the cigarettes and dvd's i can watch...

Okay so there's part one, i guess part two is eleven random facts about me...

1.  I'm a fucking nerd for colored vinyl, meaning i like to collect records and have been known to buy the same one twice if the vinyl is a different color.

2.  I'm a fucking ace Foosball player, front or back, doesn't matter...

3.  I once pissed my pants in kindergarten but didn't tell anyone cuz it was like some "fun day" or some such shit and we got out of class to do special shit and i got to go and make these awesome cookies... in wet pants of course...

4.  I once drove and owned a Saab... i paid cash for it in a parking lot... oh the good, old days...

5.  I'm a big fan of Nilla wafers and milk...

6. I have an irrational fear of both zombies and airplanes but not zombies on airplanes...

7. I saw David Bowie in concert when i was 18 years old.

8. The first concert i ever went to was Kiss, i was nine.

9. I'm an avid daydreamer and often find myself lost in thought about nothing at all and it pleases me to no end.

10. I don't really like lobster.

11.  My surfboard's name was Jane.

Okay, so i'm supposed to pass this on but i'm not afraid of no bad juju and shit, besides i don't know how to link shit or who even reads the lounge anymore so i'll just let sleeping orca's lie you know... and i'd like to thank Rassles for giving me this wonderful opportunity or something, fuck if i know, i'm just glad it's over... but all told it wasn't that bad, cheers.

Buttermaker

Ah yes it's March and for the rest of the week i'm going to regale with tales of athletic endeavors or some such shit cuz you see i was once an athlete, many moons ago, yes i know it's hard to believe but i was a fucking whiz kid with a basketball in my hand, of course this was somewhat before my forays into criminal enterprises and diving headlong into space exploration aka drinkin' and druggin' but i spent a good part of my youth running around with a little orange ball and tossing it through a little orange hoop and i was pretty damn good at it, how good you might ask? well i must admit now that i forfeited my amateur status in my 20's when a friend of mine who worked at a swanky private club (and who i also sold grass to way back when) inquired if i might be interested in getting paid to play for this private club, seems they hadn't won a game in the rich guys league for ages and were looking for any help they could get, of course we had to lie and say i worked in the kitchen or something, it was highly doubtful that a 6'4 dreadlocked white boy was a member at the old money club but the story worked and i slowly helped them climb to respectability and by the third season with them ( a season being nothing more than a session, i think there were 4 a year) we had managed to climb over .500 and soon after would do something unheard of in club history but not only make the play-offs but actually win a game, should have seen my pay packet that season, oh it wasn't much but to a fledgling hood an extra four or five Ben Franklins was always a happy surprise... usually blown in a week of non-stop partying but hey i never claimed to be smart...

But this little tale is not about my glory days as gym rat but more of my new found vocation dig... you see last week one of the I-mac's coaches couldn't make practice and since they need two guys to run the thing the fine German guy who was head coach asked me to fill-in, the Jerry is a nice guy and freely admits he knows next to nothing about hoops so it was basically my practice to run and i felt i did a pretty good job of it and the kid's all seemed to have fun and as i walked out of the gym one of the other fathers walked up to me and smiled, " i think you missed your calling" he said, "you're really good with those kids", i did my best aw shucks and thanked him and rounded up the I-mac and headed to the car and didn't really think much more about it... that is until the next practice where i sat on the sidelines and let the usual coaches do their thing and had 3 more parents come up to me and ask why i wasn't out there and tell me i need to get my clearances because all they heard about was how good a coach i was, i was like huh? and then the one told me how her son couldn't stop talking about the stuff he learned and this and that and before you knew it i was being roped in, i get to coach the last two practices of the season, being 6 and 7 year olds the season isn't very long and i gotta admit i'm looking forward to it...

What's funny is for some reason i can display and enormous amount of patience when i'm teaching these kids, granted it's only an hour long and i'm not expecting them to be playing in the NBA anytime soon but i seem to be able to communicate with them and get them to listen, i don't know if it's the height or the voice or the fact they think i know what the fuck i'm talking about but i see coaches get frustrated at times cuz a dozen 6 and 7 year old boys have the collective attention span of almost .04 seconds and then of course balls are flying or someones trying to trip somebody or their rolling around on the floor, thing is when i talk to them the seem to stop, it's not the first time i've filled in (filled in as football aka soccer before as well) but for some unknown reason things just seem to click... and you know what? i really fucking enjoy it, it's fun to teach kids who want to learn and i understand all of them don't and that some are there purely cuz mom and dad are forcing them but i try and get them all excited to learn and play and i encourage them all, hell it's a game and they're young and it should be fucking fun dammit!

And so there it is, i've got something to do this week other than sit home at night and get wasted, of course after practice i'm sure i'll find a way to impair myself, seems the one thing i'm good at these days but that's okay, i'll look to my mentor Morris Buttermaker for guidance, and who knows one of these kids might mix a damn fine Caucasian or at least know how to pour a proper Guinness, can't be any worse than half the bartenders out here in the burbs... now back to business as usual.

 

Yeah, well, what?

 

I've been listening to this record a lot lately, seems i've been doing alot of recreational recreating when the skies get dark and the man is left to nothing but himself and the four walls of his own personal dungeon, that's okay though, i have these problems, sometimes i just gotta fuck off for a bit, listen to tunes and wander around the place as if it's not really mine, think Strummer called it lost in the supermarket or some such shit, could be that everything that's new is old again, i mean the other day i was driving slowly down the tree-lined suburban streets, stoned out of my gourd, soda in the soda holder, bobbing my head to the music and looking at the sleepy streets and quiet houses that lined these drives and avenues and blvds and it struck me that i've come full circle, 25 years and here i was just like the kid from Cleveland driving down the street stoned with a soda, driving of course to pick up a pizza cuz hell man nothing says munchies like a fine pie you know? and so who knows maybe i'll get back to this soon but really there is no rush, i gotta shitload of good records to play, on vinyl cuz i'm like a fucking nerd or something but i'll get there sooner or later, one of these days i'll take a break from the habit and do something constructive, i mean shit i'm fucking turning into Kevin Spacey in American Beauty, either getting stoned and high or working out or sometimes both at the same fucking time, i dunno, either way Rassles has tagged me with some strange blog thingy so i guess i gotta do that sometime or get like the bad juju or some such shit, but i'm working on it, well not really but i'm thinking about it now and then... cheers.