you always rocked, man.
you rocked before anyone else did.
and then you snuck it to me.
best shit ever.
rock.
"check this out"
cranks the knob on the right farther than YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT
but then it starts and
it HAS TO BE THAT LOUD
for you to understand
that you should move the floor
in the very beginning of Children of the Sun
big old 70' shit.
Marantz.
Pioneer.
JVC
Klispch.
big stereos
"yeah, now see: that's a perfectly balanced stereo signal."
and it looked like an amorphous blob on an oscilloscope screen..but it sounded like the intro to "Hot Summer Nights" off of 5150.
you brought the rock.
you brought it back on tape from Oneida.
remember when we visited down there and me and my brother visited you and you introduced us to your friend -another long-haired dude. looked like a rock star? like you, man. you were a fucking ROCK STAR when we were kids.
but freaked out, didn't I?
i was little.
they thought we were the same me and my brother.
they had us wear matching sweatsuits.
remember?
the were bright green with a blue stripe down the side.
she had shaved our heads the week before
me because i would get up and go to school without brushing or washing anything.
i think we both got it at the same time
but it was my fault.
my brother had '-pretty much-' straight hair
but my hair was a fucking nightmare.
it was harder in the morning, so i gave up for a while.
but she fucking shaved it.
remember when she did yours?
i do.
i wanted her dead.
so.
we're there
at Oneida
to see "Brother"
and this dude kneels down
when i am just beaming at you
like i was at from whicheth cool flow
freaked out to be at my big brother's school
BIGFANLOVEYOURWORK
dude says
"hey little dude, whats up?"
and puts out his hand at me
i thought the you had introduced me to this guy as a guitar player
...to a dude that was in your band...
and a i freaked out
and i looked at you
and then at him
and i knew i'd never be that cool
and i started crying
because - cool hair, man
COOL HAIR.
VERY IMPORTANT FOR ROCK DUDE IS COOL HAIR...and here i was....NO HAIR...too much.
i was like 9.
10.
i was fucking BALD.
i was trying to be cool.
i was trying to be you
just like my son is trying to be me.
i'm never going to make him cut his hair again.
i'm serious.
ever.
The Rock, man.
you gave a great review.
its still a model.
when we all play together, there is nothing more true.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
I'm in the back of a car.
75 Nova or similar.
We're moving.
Joints keep coming.
The Budweiser between my legs has a conical top.
Journey's "Send her My Love" blares full and clear and loud from the speakers in the deck behind us.
I swim in the song, my head nodding forward.
Night. Midnight or later.
We're on a country road moving fast.
I nod and rock with the movement of the car, jostling against the girl next to me.
Joints keep coming.
They're smaller.
I take a sloppy pull from the beer and fumble for cigarettes.
I get one good one from the crushed pack and throw the rest in the floorboard.
My jeans are tight.
Ash in my beer and forget.
Another pull from the beer.
I put my hand on the girl's knee.
Her jeans are acid-washed.
She moves my hand off her knee and on to mine.
I try to look to my right to see her, but she's a blur of white billowy cotton, tanned skin, gold earrings and brown curls.
I can smell her a bit through the smoke and beer.
She smells good.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LL3vmVjYjBQ&feature=fvw
75 Nova or similar.
We're moving.
Joints keep coming.
The Budweiser between my legs has a conical top.
Journey's "Send her My Love" blares full and clear and loud from the speakers in the deck behind us.
I swim in the song, my head nodding forward.
Night. Midnight or later.
We're on a country road moving fast.
I nod and rock with the movement of the car, jostling against the girl next to me.
Joints keep coming.
They're smaller.
I take a sloppy pull from the beer and fumble for cigarettes.
I get one good one from the crushed pack and throw the rest in the floorboard.
My jeans are tight.
Ash in my beer and forget.
Another pull from the beer.
I put my hand on the girl's knee.
Her jeans are acid-washed.
She moves my hand off her knee and on to mine.
I try to look to my right to see her, but she's a blur of white billowy cotton, tanned skin, gold earrings and brown curls.
I can smell her a bit through the smoke and beer.
She smells good.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LL3vmVjYjBQ&feature=fvw
Monday, February 08, 2010
It rather blows to be alone.
Sometimes it's good. Sometimes, if you really actually want to do something alone, its good.
Like read or write or play an instrument.
Or other stuff.
Generally though, it blows.
It blows to know that there probably isn't someone somewhere having trouble getting you out of their mind.
It is not a good thing to be left to only your thoughts and desires..and responsibilities.
Sometimes you just want to go back to bed.
Or drink.
Or both.
Or just sit there and keep clicking and clicking and clicking and waiting and wondering.
And getting fatter and older.
I think I'm going to go to Wal-Mart and I'm going to go to bed and drink.
Not necessarily in that order.
Sometimes it's good. Sometimes, if you really actually want to do something alone, its good.
Like read or write or play an instrument.
Or other stuff.
Generally though, it blows.
It blows to know that there probably isn't someone somewhere having trouble getting you out of their mind.
It is not a good thing to be left to only your thoughts and desires..and responsibilities.
Sometimes you just want to go back to bed.
Or drink.
Or both.
Or just sit there and keep clicking and clicking and clicking and waiting and wondering.
And getting fatter and older.
I think I'm going to go to Wal-Mart and I'm going to go to bed and drink.
Not necessarily in that order.