The Obscure

Oh I'm throwin you guys for another loop, Wooo!! This is one of the most eventful weeks in history for me. three of my friends have ended more than year long relationships (two of them with each other), chuck took ill yesterday, I had a crazy epiphany on like monday, and... I drank four cokes today, FOUR!!

Tim and James are here right now, taylor just left. We're all chillin and.. maxin out.

Welp, I got nothing else to write here. Farewell. Oh! I'll definately have a new and colored comic up on tuesday. See you.

This is my new favorite song of all time, I love it. Woo!! Woo!! It's in several sections, so the titles of those sections are in bold. Jethro Tull, by the way.





Baker Street Muse

Baker Street Muse

Windy bus-stop. Click. Shop-window. Heel.
Shady gentleman. Fly-button. Feel.
In the underpass, the blind man stands.
With cold flute hands.
Symphony match-seller, breath out of time.
You can call me on another line.

Indian restaurants that curry my brain.
Newspaper warriors changing the names they
advertise from the station stand.
With cold print hands.
Symphony word-player, I'll be your headline.
If you catch me another time.

Didn't make her --- with my Baker Street Ruse.
Couldn't shake her --- with my Baker Street Bruise.
Like to take her --- but I'm just a Baker Street Muse.

Ale-spew, puddle-brew --- boys, throw it up clean.
Coke and Bacardi colours them green.
From the typing pool goes the mini-skirted princess
with great finesse.
Fertile earth-mother, your burial mound is fifty feet
down in the Baker Street underground. (What the hell!)
Walking down the gutter thinking,
``How the hell am I today?''
Well, I didn't really ask you but thanks all the same.

Pig-Me And The Whore

``Big bottled Fraulein, put your weight on me,'' said the
pig-me to the whore,
desperate for more in his assault upon the mountain.
Little man, his youth a fountain.
Overdrafted and still counting.
Vernacular, verbose; an attempt at getting close to
where he came from.
In the doorway of the stars, between Blandford Street
and Mars;
Proposition, deal. Flying button feel. Testicle testing.
Wallet ever-bulging. Dressed to the left, divulging
the wrinkles of his years.
Wedding-bell induced fears.
Shedding bell-end tears in the pocket of her resistance.
International assistance flowing generous and full
to his never-ready tool.
Pulls his eyes over her wool.
And he shudders as he comes.
And my rudder slowly turns me into the Marylebone
Road.

Crash-Barrier Waltzer

And here slip I --- dragging one foot in the gutter ---
in the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap
radios.
And there sits she --- no bed, no bread, no butter ---
on a double yellow line --- where she can park anytime.
Old Lady Grey; crash-barrier waltzer ---
some only son's mother. Baker Street casualty.
Oh, Mr. Policeman --- blue shirt ballet master.
Feet in sticking plaster ---
move the old lady on.
Strange pas-de-deux ---
his Romeo to her Juliet.
Her sleeping draught, his poisoned regret.
No drunken bums allowed to sleep here in the
crowded emptiness.
Oh officer, let me send her to a cheap hotel ---
I'll pay the bill and make her well - like hell you
bloody will!
No do-good over kill. We must teach them
to be still more independent.

Mother England Reverie

I have no time for Time Magazine or Rolling Stone.
I have no wish for wishing wells or wishing bones.
I have no house in the country I have no motor car.
And if you think I'm joking, then I'm just a one-line
joker in a public bar.
And it seems there's no-body left for tennis; and I'm
a one-band-man.
And I want no Top Twenty funeral or a hundred grand.

There was a little boy stood on a burning log,
rubbing his hands with glee. He said, ``Oh Mother England,
did you light my smile; or did you light
this fire under me?
One day I'll be a minstrel in the gallery.
And paint you a picture of the queen.
And if sometimes I sing to a cynical degree ---
it's just the nonsense that it seems.''

So I drift down through the Baker Street valley,
in my steep-sided un-reality.
And when all is said and all is done --- I couldn't wish
for a better one.
It's a real-life ripe dead certainty ---
that I'm just a Baker Street Muse.

Talking to the gutter-stinking, winking in the same
old way.
I tried to catch my eye but I looked the other way.

Indian restaurants that curry my brain ---
newspaper warriors changing the names they
advertise from the station stand.
Circumcised with cold print hands.

Windy bus-stop. Click. Shop-window. Heel.
Shady gentleman. Fly-button. Feel.
In the underpass, the blind man stands.
With cold flute hands.
Symphony match-seller, breath out of time ---
you can call me on another line.

Didn't make her --- with my Baker Street Ruse.
Couldn't shake her --- with my Baker Street Bruise.
Like to take her --- but I'm just a Baker Street Muse.

(I can't get out!)

So I am back from Snow Camp now. It was alright I guess, I'm happy mainly because apparently Lauren had a fantastic time. And for some reason right now I am in a horrible mood. I dunno what's up but's it's not the funnest time in the world.

One Day he'll be a minstrel in the gallery
He'll paint you a picture of the Queen.

THAT my friends, is my current Jethro Tull song-orgasm. You ever listen to a song you really love by one of your favorite groups and when you here it you feel that much closer to Heaven? Cause I do, all the time. And the majority of the time it's Jethro Tull. It's funny that I, a rather devout (or at least attempting devout) christian, has a favorite band who is/was for the majority of their career ANTI-Christian. Isn't it? Yes, yes it is. See but the thing I like about Jethro Tull is that they have a couple of flavors.
FLAVOR THE FIRST: They have this awesome critical view of Mankind as a whole that, when put into a song, is simply amazing.
FLAVOR THE SECOND: They also have like, this personal struggle style of writing, that I simply HAVE to adore.
FLAVOR THE THIRD: A lot of the time I have no idea what their songs mean (The hare who lost his spectacles, etc...) and that makes it silly and fun.

Aaaaaanywho, while at Snow Camp I had a strange experience. That experience was getting depressed in Lauren's presence; you see, usually Lauren being there is enough to ward off bad emotions for me (In that, I'm loving her company too much, or I am a raging ball of hormones). So I was sitting there while the music guy was playin his music and stuff, and I just got really depressed and I wanted to kill somebody (not Lauren though *happy grin+thumbs up*). So long story short, I was an asshole to her, felt bad about it, but was too caught up in my own self-centered misery that I wasn't trying to make myself happy for her. Aren't I a dick?

Kelly has my Europe 72. I don't mind except that... now I want it and I don't have it. haha, up till now I've been ok without it, barely noticed, but I'm gonna shoink it back from her soon I guess. I have a song on it stuck in my head. That album has such good grouping.

I got nothin else to say really... G'night!

I'm sick of stupid livejournal, it's stupid and I hate it and I hope it dies a horrible bloody filthy death and then rots in putrid hell forever.

I'll probably still use it sometimes though.
Anyway, I'm gonna update my blog from here on out, I'll use my livejournal on occasion I guess just because I hate leaving a site empty like that; which is also why I am updating this one. Yeeeeep Pretty shnazzy. I just got a 4 foot by five foot engineer's drafting table with a drafting machine (Don't know what a drafting machine is? Neither did I, but it's pretty cool. It's this thing that hooks onto the table, and you can run it horizontally and vertically to act as a straight edge for all kinds of crazy angles, I love it, it's awesome.) I have to figure out a way to make it fit into my room. I'm doing that tomorrow, I gotta move stuff around and watnot, I have a plan for it, you see, cause I don't want to get rid of my old desk, I want to keep it for my computer that I'm supposed to be getting but haven't yet, haha.

Moving on, I keep on starting things and not finishing them. I've done about a thousand different versions of the first three pages of this comic book I am making for kelly, and then keep stopping because I don't like it, or the story isn't working for me, or whatever. It's just terrible. I don't know what I'm gonna do. Que Horrible'!!

AAAAAAnywho. I guess I'm done here. I was kind of in a writing mood but it went away when leah IMed me and I got to joke at her. huzah! Take care fellas.

In the eyes of my Jehovah, I am indistinguishable from shit.

Warren Zevon MEDLEY!!

Excitable Boy
Written By Warren Zevon & LeRoy P. Marinell
c. 1976 Zevon Music/BMI and Polite Music/ASCAP

Well, he went down to dinner in his Sunday best
Excitable boy, they all said
And he rubbed the pot roast all over his chest
Excitable boy, they all said

He took in the four a.m. show at the Clark
Excitable boy, they all said
And he bit the usherette's leg in the dark
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy

He took little Suzie to the Junior Prom
Excitable boy, they all said
And he raped her and killed her, then he took her home
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy
After ten long years they let him out of the home
Excitable boy, they all said
And he dug up her grave and built a cage with her bones
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy

Accidentally Like A Martyr
By Warren Zevon
c. 1978 Zevon Music/BMI

The phone don't ring
And the sun refused to shine
Never thought I'd have to pay so dearly
For what was already mine
For such a long, long time

We made mad love
Shadow love
Random love
And abandoned love
Accidentally like a martyr
The hurt gets worse and the heart gets harder

The days slide by
Should have done, should have done, we all sigh
Never thought I'd ever be so lonely
After such a long, long time
Time out of mind

We made mad love
Shadow love
Random love
And abandoned love
Accidentally like a martyr
The hurt gets worse and the heart gets harder


Lawyers, Guns And Money
Written By Warren Zevon
c. 1978 Zevon Music/BMI

Well, I went home with the waitress
The way I always do
How was I to know
She was with the Russians, too

I was gambling in Havana
I took a little risk
Send lawyers, guns and money
Dad, get me out of this

I'm the innocent bystander
Somehow I got stuck
Between the rock and the hard place
And I'm down on my luck
And I'm down on my luck
And I'm down on my luck

Now I'm hiding in Honduras
I'm a desperate man
Send lawyers, guns and money
The shit has hit the fan



I hope you enjoyed it.

Send Lawyers, Guns, and Money
The shit has hit the fan
(riff riff)
Send Lawyers, Guns, and Money



Ok your damn links are fixed, Jesus leah take a breath.

Heh heh, just kidding leah, you're alright.

hey slicies, I'm chillin ova (heh heh, ova) at ryan's right now, it's a paaaart-ay. I got a new comic on Dance With the Devil, if you'll care to check it izzle. I read "the rum diaries" today (it took Hogan over a month and me four periods. What a pansy he is) and it was bodizzlin. Seriously, it's one of those books I'm sorry to have end; and I wanna pursue some more Hunter S. Thompson now because of it. After extensive though I figured out what it reminded me of, the narrator is a person of the same type as the main character in Dostoyevsky's "Notes From Underground". Which is cool, it's like the person is a flawed character, the character represents the lows that us humans (in general) could hit, and how close we all are to it. I mean, that's a gross overgeneralization, but it's the shortest and easiest way to describe why I like that style of writing. It also reminded me of Lawrence Block's mysteries, and his beloved protagonist Matthew Scudder. Scudder was a bad guy, or... he was an honorable guy, but it wasn't the normal kind of honor. Like, he wouldn't hurt people and stuff, but he was a raging alcoholic, and would use prostitutes and such, You know?

Moving on, although I'm sure you were all highly interested in that stream of topics; I must move on. I've been actually doing some of my schoolwork lately, although I didn't really have any today because everyone was at the Patriot's parade so the teachers didn't really assign anything because it would leave some people behind. Fun times. AAAAAANYWHO... I'm gonna head out now. Check out dancing devil, if you are a good person.

PLEASE LEAVE ME A COMMENT!!

good morning one and all. I got my coffee here, I just got out of the shower, freshly shaven, freshly groomed. It looks like the start of a beautiful day! except now I have to go, goodbye.