Friday, July 27, 2007


Boiling Tom Petty's fans' faces off politely

Whilst blogging, I have come across Kylie’s body. It is a scientifically demonstrable fact that stones have souls. (In a pig’s eye it is.) Nuclear waste reduces the numbers of hydrofluorocarbons by a third. Conjecture, of course, but well worthwhile; you think I’m drunk, don’t you? The time to appreciate the genius of prog-rock acts like King Crimson has been and gone – it was the late nineties, if you must know. But as the grandfather clock of time swings its pendulum, the wand of reality flickers. If you have managed to keep up thus far, you’re a saint. And probably you’re a weirdo or a geek like me. Yet know this – the Soup Dragon protected his charges in ways God cannot begin to imagine. Life; so be it. If I’m expected to turn tricks on Sunset Boulevard then I’m goddamned tootin’ well going to be paid handsomely for it! And going to submerge myself in the nothingness of being, while I’m at it. It’s to the tower that you’re turning, and I don’t blame you, my chum. Let’s take the entrails out of the beast’s machinery, if you will, and devour them whole. While a motor may singe and an engine might hum, let’s ignore them all in our metal mouths. Don’t break the china, for God’s sake, whatever you do. For from the earth-apple spurts a fountain of Spring, even in these dismal autumnal Summer days. Like blogging, this year’s life blooms and withers at the same time. And for the sake of all our generations’ children – Peace, prithee, and no more nuclear threat. For a while, anyway. So, while the phantasmagoria spills its sexual torrent into the gorge, might we grapple ourselves back over the rim of sanity? I see dead people, said that predictable film. Did you see the twist coming a thousand miles off, as I did? If in, you are one of us; if out, you are not. And the band played on, hellishly. Does Winter hate hidden messages in blog posts as much as you do?

Er... Ciao.

Sounds like a bit too much Gunslinger.
Is this a parody? The rim of sanity is the sanus, the rim of depravity is the anus.
Justin: do you mean the Stephen King series? I've read exactly one of those, and yes, I suppose that was too much. Sarah's going to kill me.

GB: enough with your arsehole fixation already. The penultimate sentence holds a clue.
I never thought that. It, footily, was approaching winter but already knew what in the world's hell followed. Am I? I am going, eatily, to boldly do repairs for a mad adverbial doctor. What anecdotes here, now.
I did catch yer hidden messages and yes I am the greatest blogger in the world and yes effort is for the weak.
Now is it the red or the green pill I have to take to stay asleep? have you ever talked to dead people? they're boring.

I'm sorry about Shambo by the way that was a total mis-steak.
Oi! I will need some painkillers and booze to figure this out, but just wanted you to know I tried one of your 50 word short stories. It's not good, but for a first effort? From someone who has the brain capacity of a brain fart these days? Why I dare you...
I have borrowed my German friend's Enigma CD and I shall crack this post or go mad with its Gregorian chanting.
I'm too stupid, sorry. Can't fathom it, though I'll thank you to link fewer Hasselhoff images next time, or I swear I'll get you back.
(It'll have 100% less clothes and 200% more puppies)
Is it bands in every sentence and poetry in the ones I can't find a band in?

But no, it's more than that, isn't it?

4.15am - end of horrid week - the only chance I have of getting the point of this is to fling myself bodily at the screen with a bile-curdling scream and impale myself on the post. It is a sharp post, isn't it? I mean the point of it? Blunt will hurt. What about splinters and fragments of truth? I don't think I have enough health insurance for this post, Foots. I'm not covered for metaphysical conundrums - it's hard enough to get coverage for physical ones in this utter lunatic country.

And I still haven't turned in my 50 words.
And something about Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter.

Goddam you, Foots!
Is it anythng to do with The waste Land?
You're sounding more like Dr Maroon every time I read you.
I'm back ya cunt, the theme of yer post is "peace" but you can't have an omelette without breaking a few heads. Dylan is not God, Paisley is.
You cunt. You will completely deserve what is going to happen to you in an upcoming post of mine.
i liked it.

do expand on this idea you're wanting to run with.

oh and i only bagged on you at Maroon's place to make him feel better. you know how it is.. i knew you'd read it though and i kinda felt bad. but not too bad.

all hail the crimson king and beware of the walking man. i left Roland and his ka-Tet 6 months ago achingly, at a point where they were all together and happy. i cannot bear to pick up #7 again and see what fate awaits my gunslinger. i know it isn't good, because it just can't be.
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