This is a bathtub of Slint shirts

That thick black goo is water. My basement flooded again, taking its toll on my equipment, guitars, and merchandise. I'm trying to save these Slint shirts that sat in sewage water. If they weren't one of a kind, they would have gone straight into a rubbish bin. As it stands, I've got my work cut out for me. Loading up my car with wet garbage and looking for a skip to unload. All day long, until my back can't take it anymore. Eventually to sell. I put on my work clothes, my dust mask, my truckers cap, my hood up. Turn on the bootlegs and set about the task ahead. O joyous day when I can run the pressure washer on the walls and floor.

Clearing the mud from the music

I've been throwing out precious mementos like it's nobody's business! I recommend this deletion of history to all.

Learning to fail

I mean what I say but sometimes I say it too mean. If I could unwind this early morning, I would have spent more time biting my tongue instead of wagging it.

Period of ascent

I relinquished my place in the game and waived all authority to whoever cares about that shit. I chose a version of desire I can touch, or at least a simulacrum of reality thereof.

www.deadchild.net

someone said something in passing that I will never forget. he said, "things that are perfect don't fit in as well with other things in the world, in life."

Shutdown

I look for the electric lights that read: JUST DID IT. I have a good friend that named their dog Kamir. As in, "Come 'ere, Kamir!" If I'm one big tangent its because I haven't been sleeping much or well. But my dreams have never been more vivid. I'm in this chronic half-dreaming state, no end in sight. Rest assured my words are under the influence of natural truth serums.

Rest And Destroy

Stop. Catch your breath. Pause. Now, survive. Reset your temperment. When you are stabilized and rested you can push on to destroy.

Sayeth The Beast

Halloween is still too far away. I'm getting the props together to make a satanic slaughterhouse, ala dead alive, of my front porch. Surely it may be too violent for the kiddies, but hey- trick or fucking treat.

Mystical Faggotry

Suffered a hard drive crash that left me an amputee-- all those photos, artwork, and music gone gone gone. Lesson learned- backup weekly, foo!

Dismembership at the Ghoul's Club

Anticipating a blood-fest this Halloween, with devils and splatter movie gore all over my front porch. If I can't clean it up with a hose, I aint doing it. It will be more trick than treat this year.

How do you figure

I walk when I can't stand being indoors any longer, when the sun and cold breeze in the window gets too enticing, up against the stale temperature controlled air and manufactured bliss. I walk when I can't handle not walking anymore. It doesn't matter what time of day or night or what the weather's like. So how is it then that I keep running into the same person, in both work and civilian clothes? We recognize each other but have never talked or exchanged names. Why are these people in our lives?

Recording 1968 drums

The room was incredibly small, the kick drum is 18" (to give you a sense of scale). I used what's known as the Recorderman Overhead Technique, with Shiny Box ribbon mics. A combination of awesome pre-amps, decent mics, outboard compression, equalizers and transient enhancers I was able to overcome the 'small room / shitty acoustics' limitations and get an acceptable drum sound.

"This is so awesome I can't even take it"

I woke myself up saying those words!

Fool in the rain

Standing here with the honk honk of ducks and pickups. A huge roladex and not one to call. My absence has alienated me from other dwellers of this minute pebble in the universe.

Parched and pokered

Strapping on our strap-ons, lady luck joined us for a wicked lay on the grass of good fortune. We cried into the stars, verily.

I sat in Walgreens parking lot

And saw King Kong battling airplanes in the oil stains. Hair-clouded women struggling to get out of passenger seats. Ragged American flag ribbons wagging on the trailer home, obviously year-round and not in honor of September 11.

The plane of bliss

What is it that you have spawned upon this plane of bliss? The progeny of remarkable fountains, the empty socket that waits, purring with electricity.

Kicked by a dog

The light was in that state of static alertness, when everyone is home from working and fueling up for Friday night. The streets are lazy and for a few seconds, the muted conversations pause, dogs in the distance stop distorting, and the rubber treads stop paving. For a few seconds, there is silence.

It's You That Burns

In the fire, the world looks like its up in flames.

But it's you that burns

Tear your own hair out

The same old needy shit, driving me fucking batty. I want to crawl on the ceiling, spit on the rooftops.