Random Notes barely above Ground

Madmen, it's who i like to read, why? because they take my mind off the mundane, life in general is a fucking long string of mundane encounters, people being nice to each other because of some fucked up moral code yet when the lights go out and the curtains are drawn they are just petty, evil fucks looking to advance their own careers or whatever it is, i don't know about careers because i don't have one, which is why i turn to the madmen, most of them toiled away in menial jobs doing what they could at night, in the early morning, on lunch breaks, i tend to sleep on my lunch break but what's the difference, i understand where they come from due to the sheer amount of frustration that comes from every encounter with my fellow man, i just don't get most of them, of course there are some gems out there but they like me tend to be on the outside looking in, so one could say that art is my career but what kind of fucking statement is that, when one makes that statement they cease to be an artist, Damien Hirst can now spray gold on dogshit and sell it for millions, books are published by MFA's because they studied the craft of sucking ass and i bet dollars to donuts these people would say they are artists, writers, yet one wonders if they now the first thing, a recent study in some academic journal was amazed at the amount of kiddies in writing programs who didn't read books, interesting, it becomes about fame and money at some point and at that is the point i get off, it's more about being cool, if you can't play guitar you pick a paint brush or learn to type, preferably poetry, of course the universities like this because you feed the beast money for the piece of paper they dole out at the end and let's face it, universities like money, yet this is not disparage art or literature, it's out there and it keeps me going, what it rails against is the consumer culture created by the taste makers, so i read madmen and i write and i paint primitive pictures, not to get laid or make money because changing light bulbs and moving furniture is the way i pay bills, the meaning is in the fact that it is not my job and i do it for no reward, there is a theory out there about the Writers of the No, people who produce these fabulous pieces of work and then disappear, stop, turn their back on the public because they do not/did not like what they saw, it's not done for money, it's just done, i get pretty fed up with all the whining i hear from writers, all the demons they fucking have, David Foster Wallace hung himself because he was depressed and apparently he was a genius but i never liked a thing the guy wrote, yet the MFA's and poets came out of the woodwork and discussed how horrible it is and how writing is cathartic, therapeutic, well in that case keep writing in your fucking diary instead of yelling from the rooftops about all your problems, in a sense shut the fuck up and write and quit talking to me about why you are writing, in fact i really don't care, if it stands up on the page then great and isn't that all that should matter? of course i may sound like a hypocrite and if i wasn't yelling into the void one might call me one and toss in that i was an asshole for good measure, and i would smile, take a long drag off my cigarette, blow smoke in your face and say you were probably right...

Random Notes barely Above Ground -- episode IV

Slow going in the lounge these days, especially since the catastrophe of last week when the eblog munchkin ate the story, been nursing an injury as well, seems i slept in a bad spot a week or so ago at work, being away from my favorite chair turned out to be a drag, now i'm suffering some exotic neck strain that seemed to now settle in the base of the neck and makes things like typing, sleeping, existing a complete fucking drag, so far all forms of self medication have worked so-so but nothing seems to be the cure, i wish Ian McKaye were here, he'd know what to do...

If you haven't seen the footage of the Stooges performing for Madonna's induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame i recommend you go see it right now, i'm not a big Madonna fan (though i did one surreal afternoon watch the Limey shampoo the carpets while listening to her greatest hits i believe, i'm hoping i was stoned, drunk or both) but the fact she picked the Stooges to perform as her tribute band was either the best dumb luck ever or shear fucking brilliance, i'm thinking it was the latter cuz say what you want the lady is a top notch promoter and businesswomen... watching a shirtless, old Iggy prance around singing Ray of Light and that other tune was the purest piece of rock and roll the old halls ever seen, the suits in attendance were utterly gobsmacked, they had no fucking idea what was going on whatsoever, with Iggy screaming towards the end, "feel the music, FEEL SOMETHING" as he danced through the front row, the Asheton brothers tore shit up as usual and it took me a second to realize that Mike Watt was playing bass, one piece work uniform and all, it was what Rock and Roll is all about and i could give a shit about the Hall of Fame but if you're gonna have one why ain't the Stooges fucking innit? For that matter what about Watt's old band the Minutemen? well as we all no institutions like that are for the establishment and maybe it's more of an honour to be left out...

and on a lighter note, why is that a Democratic guvner going to a perfectly respectable prostitution ring has to resign while some old Republican with a wide stance ahem solicits gay sex in a bathroom, admits to it and keeps his job? Just remember Sen. Idaho isn't gay, i'd actually respect him more if he admitted he was gay instead of pushing the christo-fascist family man bullshit while shoving boulders up against the closet doors...
here's hoping to a normal neck in the near future or that it starts raining painkillers, the good kind not that over the counter shit.

Random Notes from the Criminally Mundane

Shit shit shit, it's been a battle at the lounge lately as one small imaginary boy has decided that he will do whatever it takes to not go to sleep, it's driving me fucking crazy, it's a one long horrible struggle each night and i'm simply amazed at the amount of energy the IB has in reserve, when he puts his mind to it he may be even more stubborn than his old man and that's saying alot, by the time the screaming and fussing is over the little dude is so exhausted he literally falls down but it's the hour or so leading up to that that has daddy going utterly mad, walking out of the room muttering curses under his breathe, staring in the mirror and reciting lines from the Shining, trying to reason with a little person who isn't yet 2 and could give a rats ass about reasoning, it can make you feel real old, real fast...

the lounge would also like to thank all the people in this wonderful little sphere who have given up the game and retired from the asshat world of blogging, i enjoyed the reading and understand why you give up the game and get on with better things, unfortunately i have nothing else to do so i will continue to bore the shit out of my 2 readers by continuing with this little experiment...

it's been freezing cold, icy and i've been very high but have yet to fall on my walk in to the occupation though i have done some wicked one-legged slides and uttered strange things like "Whoooaaa" as i regained my footing, needless to say i seem to be the only person this is happening to these days...

hopefully soon will get the posts up about Mark E. Smith, the working class intellectual do-da and some other little tidbits that rattle around my mind but that will depend mainly on the Imaginary Boy and his sleeping habits, till then get the beers in.
Currently re-reading Tropic of Capricorn and am now convinced that the first 80 or so pages to be one of the greatest treatises on the American condition, fucking love old Henry.

Random notes Barely above ground-- hungover version

Shit, i forgot. Oh yeah, i'm getting a bit fed up with motherfuckers who can't walk in a straight line, who weave all over the sidewalk and are oblivious to their surroundings, they bob and weave and then give me dirty looks after i pass them, it's like a fucking Nascar race or something, and if anyone should be out of it it's me cuz i'm the one who just got wasted in his car eating maple donuts and smoking mucho ganja, by this point i'm just trying to hold it together and praying i'm walking a straight line but maybe it's my beautiful half paranoid/half bliss state that i'm in makes me super aware, hmmm.

Toxic Monday is back.

Next time some 3rd world Guatemalen ref taking kickbacks from the Mexican guvment, who doesn't understand the fucking offside rule takes away a perfectly good goal from my man Clint "Chamillionaire" Dempsey i will boycott all third world beer for one week.

Mitt "the Mormon" Romney dropped out of the Presidential elections in order to go back to his 12 wives and millions of dollars, what a sad day for Hamerica, here's hoping Mitt's ego isn't to badly damaged and that he makes something of himself someday.

In honor of the Limey and the Spaniard i'm taking up red wine drinking, that is when i'm not drinking something else.

fuck this trainwreck, i'm getting stoned and going to bed.

Random Notes high on Cold Medicine

Winter is a such a lovely thing, what with all the shit weather and the like, one shouldn't really get drunk and stand outside smoking cigarettes while the temperature hovers in the 30's but then again some of us are not that bright, of course the imaginary boy might have something to do with this new found hack and sniffle, the boy always has kennel cough due to the wonderful world of daycare and he likes to share food with me and of course i could deny him this fun but he's such a sweet little shit i have trouble doing that... and for those wondering i didn't drink a bottle of Robitussin tonight though the thought did cross my mind, just took the old fashioned multi-cold symptom knock out pills though what i should of done was drink two Guinness and smoke a bit of that special cigarette, can't go wrong there, have stopped shaving for the time being which makes my boss nervous and i like her worried queries to see if i'm growing another beard, last winter's was such a success at pissing off loved ones and co-workers it's tempting... had many interesting ideas today but between coughs i must have forgotten them, so this is what you get, tripe, in a nutshell, the only good news is i ended up being $108 up after playing the ponies this saturday, yee-haw.

Random Notes from the X-mas Bunker

Fucking holidays, they stuff in close quarters with people who annoy the shit out of you, who you have nothing in common with, they wonder why i hang out with the kids, the kids at least are honest, wide eyed, happy, met my newest 7 yr. old nephew and damn was he a sweet kid, getting bullied by his big brother and wired on adrenaline, thought there was a bear scratching at the back door and the poor kids in a strange place and he's telling me he's not scared but his eyes are giving it away that he's scared shitless, guess who told him it was a bear? see big brother, but we talked hot wheels and video games and i told him i'd be right around the corner with the imaginary boy so if any more so-called bears showed up he could get me...

this morning i got up and had a morning smoke as the sun rose up over the hills of central Pa. It was quiet and clear and cold and gorgeous, a bit of a zen moment before the day spirals out of control, must admit watching the imaginary boy was spectacular, fucking kid melts my heart every time he smiles at me, lost his shit when the older kids broke out the remote control helicopters, i haven't laughed that hard in god knows how long but that's what i like about the kids, they remind me of all the joy that the world has beaten out of me and the kids hand it right back...

talked to the old man on the phone and told how i missed the old days, the wilderness years, when it was just me and him sitting in his apt. watching the Sportscenter year in review, waxing philosophical, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee with no where to go and nothing to do, some of the best X-mas's i ever spent, no tree, no lights, just me and my father hanging out after the family we knew imploded, eating toast or maybe some danish, i'd give him a carefully selected gift, which was for a few years a year's subscription to Penthouse, which the first year i did amused the shit out of him, he'd hand me a check that i'd try to refuse but i'd take anyway and later in the day i'd drive from Cleveland back to Pittsburgh missing the old man the whole time, most of my better attributes i can say i learned from him, taught me alot about being a man and a father, taught me to think for myself even if that meant disagreeing with him, taught me alot about grace and dignity even though i've often forgot it at times and we always have a good tongue wag x-mas morning that usually has nothing to do with holidays and the like and alot to do with the philosophical aspects of the culture around us. love the old man. a class fucking act.

well it's come and gone again and this year's edition has my ears ringing due to some wacky head cold and tomorrow it's back to work and that may just mean some x-mas pints for lunch, hope everybody got what they wanted. happy saturnalia.

Random Notes Barely above Ground pt. 13

I'm lucky, i could be dead this fine evening thanks to a fucking redneck in a giant SUV who drifted over the double yellow last night, was he drunk? tired? on his cell phone? i really don't care, all i know was i swerved at the right moment and and i feel lucky, like pissed my pants lucky, like glad to see the sunrise lucky, like this is the best cigarette and cup of coffee i've ever had lucky, when they say the game is a matter of inches THEY are not lying, i've been seeing those headlights all day, had to take mother's little helper last night cuz i was that rattled, i sat and stared at the imaginary boy and thanked any number of deities for being able to do so, i stared up into the lovely abyss and admired stars and man did it feel good, it felt good to stand outside my house in one piece and take one, long, deep breathe...

Now back to the show, another fine bumper sticker, Drill ANWR, another moron in his SUV is demanding we drill that pesky piece of land up in Alaska cuz he's damn tired of paying so much for gas, unfortunately for fuckhead he parks in the lot next to me and sooner or later i'm gonna find him and this time i might just forgo all conversation, knee him in the balls, smile and say have a nice day...

Tis the season for Joy Division, the sky has gone gray, the wind has picked up, i actually miss good old Lake Erie in the fall but if i look north and east i can see what she sends, the morning's are dark, my drive takes me through the heart of the warehouse and junkyard district and Ian and the boys keep me company the whole way, the city closes in, the faces distort and turn dour as they take the death walk to the cubicle, as the postmodern light bulb changer i can only smile and whisper of lunch time beers and jukebox music, of naps and reading books hidden in the belly of my steel cage...

Disjointed at best, soon i may actually get back to putting together coherent thoughts but today i'm happy to be tired and worn out from chasing the imaginary boy, happy to be in one piece, happy to listen to it rain, happy to pet Luis Garcia Shinobo Diego Rivera Marquez and watch him roll on his belly and pass out, see what a near death experience can do for you, it can put you in a great mood, and who knows maybe tommorow i'll walk the 67 steps from my front door to the pub's front door for a Guinness and Tullamore Dew, cuz life is fucking grand.

Random notes barely above ground Pt. 31 Section 2

I would very like much to extend a long middle finger to a couple of doctors, a receptionist, my HR dept, the Dept. of Labor and while i'm at it if they could kiss my dirty, hairy ass that would be nice too, fucking hell, the imaginary boy gets sick you take some time off and it becomes a complete fiasco, oh yeah fuck the insurance companies too, the game is now shuffling paperwork back and forth, having the correct boxes checked, blah blah fucking blah, i want to scream at these people I'm the fucking customer now do as i say and get this shit done but i'd be better served pissing into the wind and saying ahhh! America is a fucking nightmare bureaucracy and all those who want to wave the flag and beat the bible can happily suck my dick...

Needless to say i took the French approach to work and managed to sleep almost half my working day away. At least i didn't go to the bar or take any drugs but i find myself sleeping in chairs alot these days and i really don't understand what that means...

Do not talk to me about baseball...

Currently listening to.... The National, Destroyer, A Place to Bury Strangers, Kevin Drew, Broken Social Scene, Robert Pollard, Liars, THS... still slogging through one Thomas Pynchon.

Need more vice in my life, some gambling, a trip to the strip bar but instead i'll go to the Wilco show and sit with the aging indie rocker/ middle age crowd and nod my head, the only redeeming factor being i know i'll be higher than 99% of the people there, yeah i'm that shallow. Fuck it, fuck you and fuck me.

Random notes from a Bus Shelter

I've got nothing to say. Really. Just sitting and staring. Reading Pynchon and i think it's sapping what's left of my drug-addled intellectual abilities, hoho, that's a fucking laugh. Been listening to way to much Canadian Indie Rock, but i like it, i'm beginning to wonder if it's not some kind of Canadian renaissance going on up north, Destroyer, Broken Social Scene, Kevin Drew, some wacky women, Frog Eyes, Wolf Parade, the shit's just stuck in my head, along with a bunch of songs from the afternoon cartoons...

Debating the merits of work, well not really, i myself am dead set against work, the jobs i'm forced to attend, it's not like i'm farming the land for my survival, instead i'm forced to serve, push paper, kiss ass, be degraded for my survival, the only job i ever enjoyed was let's say a bit on the shady side but it made people happy and gave me time to sit in bars and ponder the universe or the 7th inning in some meaningless baseball game but it gave me the chance to ponder nonetheless...

Jobs, careers, whatever you'd like to call them are nothing more than some sick form of indentured servitude to the 7 or 8 mega-conglomerates that control the known universe, you work for them, your in debt to them, they sell you clothes, shelter, food, health care, in general they suck the life out of the universe and offer you the soulless, happy existence... the last things these powers want is a bunch of hyper-literate, critical thinking, drug addicts running around plotting to overthrow the local Starbucks for the free trade set...

I much prefer to sleep and go to the bar while on the clock, it makes me think i'm actually accomplishing something while at work, time to take more pills, hopefully the lazyitis i've been suffering from while lift soon or as Jimmy "the unstoppable sex machine" Carter would say "the malaise will lift."

Random Notes Barely above Water

Things i've done this week, went to visit relative types... got smashed and made an ass of myself, slept at work, took painkillers, antibiotics and gear up for root canal number six, thanked the gods of dental insurance, fuck this is boring, but it's been that kind of week, need some action in this joint but the imaginary boy has me running around like a fool and man if the wee little shit doesn't tire this big old shit out, but then again it's worth every fucking second...

Some good shows finally coming to the burgh, Wilco, Mr. Adams and of course the Swedes, PeterBjorn&John, may have to check that out, may have to buy an ABBA t-shirt or a Freddie Ljunberg jersey or maybe just find a bunch of drugs, slump in the back and drink myself silly... Pablo Picasso was never called an Asshole, reading more Pynchon, making my head hurt and realize that my vocabulary isn't all that great even if it's better than the twits i work with, itching for some weeknight drinking but the gout is hovering around the ankles like a crackhead around an ATM so like Beckham i'm on the bench til the weekend...

for some good shit i refer you to the Toxic Towers aka Toxic Monday, official site sponsor and the wonderful diatribe on one of my personal heroes, Bez... Bez is a top geezer and the Gulfboot hits the nail on the head in his post, Bez is the kind of guy who should be your kids role model and that statement alone would make the conservative fucknuts in America have a breakdown and toss me into Guantanamo, but if you get past the drugs, which most morons won't, the man has a code of living that is much closer to my code than say Gdub, Winky Rove, any number of conservative Republican congressman who like gay sex in public restrooms etal, so here's to Bez and the beautiful barrooms and the trashmen and the panhanlders and the ....

Random Notes Barely Above Ground pt.36

To fed up to give a fuck, the fairer sex will drive you mad, amazing that i turned down the priesthood for a job as a postmodern light bulb changer, the demons all sing, they all dance, they call from the bar and the dealer, booze and gear, everyday i battle, battle to do something sober but tonight i lost and 3 pints of Guinness in 30 minutes and the mind suddenly feels just about right, sat on the hard concrete and watched a cigarette burn on the sidewalk, saw the shelf of clouds and missed the airplanes, sat on the concrete and felt the sting on my bony ass, soon i will undertake the task i set out to do, like Frodo leaving the shire i will produce this novel i so lovingly talk about, call me in 2009 i'll let you read it, it's one long hallucination about a man who would be fool, about a madman in a sea of madmen, a stylistic tour' de fart, a fucking joke with bad punctuation, a bit like what you read now, but it must be done in order to maintain order from the wine cellar of this mind, so buck up motherfuckers someday you will be entertained, until then watch movies, buy music, see live bands, fuck, drink, be merry, cuz i ain't worried about Eggers and the rest of the twats i've got confidence to spare and the debts to prove it, i'm gonna set the esteemed art and letters on it's ass or come off as a total fucking knob, but i'll grin and gurn and grind and gyrate the whole time for those few dollars stuffed lovingly and sparingly inside my lovely garter...

Random Notes from a Stinking Basement

The Gods do not like me today, they sent the thunderstorm that annually causes a back up somewhere in my sewer line and soon i am standing in what smells like a truck stop porta-potty, ah the wonders of the humanfuckingbody, the wonders of the public works dept., fucking hell it's horrible a bit like hell might be like, even the pills aren't doing the trick as i bleach and mop and bleach and mop and sing "There's a Light that Never Goes Out" and other assorted songs of woe and if i had any ability at home ownership i would've had this fixed ages ago, but i don't, so fuck off and just get me to Mexico v. Brasil tonight in the Copa America, Lord keep me off the booze cuz if i start tonight it might be a full bottle of Powers Irish and we all know where that road leads... but now my dinner has arrived and we'll take a short commercial break before i continue, my sponsors will try to sell you weed and things that make your dick bigger and it will all be broadcast in Espanol...

at least now the pills have kicked in and the cola is fizzy and my belly's full...

Ann Coulter is a media whore who screws goats and other assorted barnyard animals, i'm still trying to wonder who thinks this woman is sexy? she's a blonde troll who doesn't even insult people well but she does love the sound of her own voice, i wonder if she finds it funny that even her dildo has earplugs on....

and so it goes that any well thought out ideas are lying on scraps of paper waiting for the time and energy to be posted for good use, the second part of Rev. History, the crushing love story about a boy, his girl and their drugs, get your hankies out for this one kids, it'll be sadder than the last episode of Beverly Hills 90210...

ah the humidity clings to me like a scared baby and no one writes to the Kono anymore, except the inmates that are primates and this thick air makes me sleepy in the car crash so lovingly called America and Elton John sings "goodbye yellow brick road" to Tony Blair in his dashing suit and perky smile and Mr. Malkmus screams "that boys are dying on these streets" and no one seems to hear and the cigarettes make me choke and the bleach it burns my nose and my heroes are all bones and the cold, crisp, snap of my sanity leaves my smiling smiling smiling.

Random notes barely above ground

It seems as if there is a vast empty space hovering between my ears. The days trudge on like white chocolate elephants melting in the hot sun of no spring. I drink vitamin water and Guinness, i get root canals, my jaws ache, i take painkillers to ease the mind, i don't sleep, i listen to the wind, i watch the cats chase imaginary mice and wish it was that easy. I trim hedges and dream of rainforests, i sleep soundly at my desk at work, i drink milkshakes to ease the shakes of an existence spent wondering, wandering, squandering, i scratch my balls, i piss on my shorts, i water plants and smoke cigarettes in Jeffers screaming bloody hawk sunsets. There is junk and then there is junk, pile it high outside the door with ketchup and mustard, hold the pickle. Postmodern pisshead and the clean sheetz. Coming soon to a theatre near you.

Random Notes Barely Above Ground Pt. 6

Exhausted is not the word to describe how i feel. The imaginary boy makes me run, run, run, how can he be so young and have so much energy?

May be the last person i know under the age of forty who doesn't own an ipod. I prefer the sounds of the streets and the voices in my head, the soundtrack of my life is sung in a strange inner dialogue and changes on a whim, i kinda like it that way.

Still carrying on conversations with my left hand at work, we talk back and forth and is scares the shit out of the square banker types. Sometimes i even draw little faces on me hand. hahahahaha

Will still post about the asswipes just haven't had the time or the energy to sit down and make a concerted effort, revisionist history in the works as well. I need some whiskey and a cigarette and a good nights sleep.

When i dream i dream of bears.

Random Notes Barely Above Ground pt. 5

Nothing much happening in the world of the Lounge. Mostly trying to stay warm and high through the greater workings of chemistry. Got a kick ass mug of the cover of the Clash's London Calling album so i can look superfuckingcool when i drink my coffee.

The days of the full beard are numbered with the impending rise in temperatures known as spring.

St. Patty's day came and went and i stayed on the couch eating pills and drinking Guinness and avoiding the mass of amateur drunks who populate the bars on such a day. After drinking at the parade and through the day the number of bad soap operas that took place last night probably numbers in the thousands.

The Hold Steady play tomorrow night and i will be there, drunk and singing along. Because as we know the boys and girls of America have such a sad time together. Some people may call them a bad Springsteen cover band but to you i say fuck off. Any band that references, Nelson Algren, Kerouac, John Berryman, individual member of the Band, Neil Schoen, Nina Simone, et al may just be to fucking literate for the masses that are America.

Will be reporting back on the concert later in the week. Possible new installment of Revisionist History coming soon kids, so light up that smoke and try to look cool, dig.

RanDom NoteS bArelY aboVe GrounD Pt. 4

Hmmm, the world's postmodern light bulb changer goes all Bill Burroughs and what's he get?
A horrible donut selection at the mini-mart, a pack of expensive cigarettes and a restless night. Oh well.

Sang The National Front Disco by Morrissey on my way into work this morning and watched people stare as they realized i wasn't wearing an i-pod.

The experiment in beard growing has been a smashing success in pissing of most of the women i know, have been refered to as: Charles Manson, Osama, Grizzly Adams, Weirdo.

Am in utter amazement at the way the Big World Bank Machine operates. If you give them cake they will lay down their lives for your cause even if that cause is doing nothing more than pushing paper. These people are like lambs being led to the slaughter and if you give them cake they will smile all the way to the slaughterhouse, cake i say cake, fucking cake, and it's not even that good, the lumpenproles never cease to amaze me but then again this is a capitalist society and the teachers lie all the time about the way the world really works, they don't explain the pyramid and why it's fatter at the bottom and it'd be no use telling these morons to read Brave New World by Huxley cuz they wouldn't get it, no pictures.

More on that at a later date. I know it's been a slow week in the Lounge kids but fear not we sleep like the mighty lion waiting for the foolish antelope.

Random Notes barely Above Ground Pt. 3

The Shadyside supermarket has become a haven for indie rock chicks all sporting the latest fashions of indie rockness, and though i do listen to this type of music the fashion statements made by these folks can, well, suck it. Yes that means you Julian Casablancas and Alexander McQueen. Fashion in general is a bit dodgy is you ask me and i'm sure there are right wing christians who say the same about alot of art but... with all apologies to Joe, Mick, Paul and Topper...

"Indie chicks in the supermarket

i can no longer shop happily

they come here in there stupid boots

i believe they do it to annoy just me..." to be cont.

It's now been five days since my last shower and over three weeks since i last shaved. The Geico cavemen have nothing on me and i would love to feel the warm water of the shower beating over me except for the sick, little boy who lives with me... one can only guess if he exists or lives only in my head.

Apparently this chick in the picture died sometime last week. I'm not sure if she saved the whales, adopted kids from third world countries or just had big, fake cans, either way i've seen her way to much. The sweatpants whores on Butler St. don't get this much attention when they turn up O.D'd next to a dumpster so why should she?

Random Notes Barely above Ground pt. 2

Well i was about to post the first installment of Revisionist History but something went haywire and the whole second section was deleted and it will be written another time... fucking technology can suck it.

Need to get one of those newfangled camera phones cuz today Pittsburgh's own Billy Idol was crossing the street with me. This woman had the Billy Idol hair and was wearing those old stirrup pants from the 80's and some kicking black leather boots. I wanted to ask her if "last night a little dancer came dancing at her door."

Would also like to know what's up with the Indie Rock Ear Muff craze sweeping my fair city. The indie kids must not want to mess up their messed up hair by wearing a hat.

Also decided i need an I-pod (which relates somewhat back to Billy Idol) cuz as i walked into work i couldn't help but notice the dread on the faces of the proles, lumpen-proles, and the middle managers. I've decided if i had a I-pod i could randomly sing out certain lines from songs but only one line at a time of course not the whole thing, just to bring a little joy and confuse the piss out of these people... example 1 of course is Billy Idol which i guess i could of sang anyway but pussied out. Other examples... and just for fun see if you can guess the song... WOWEE!!!! interactive blogging yinz...

"England for the English, Enggggland for the English."
"I don't want the world, i just want your half."
"My Maserati does 185, I lost my license now i don't drive."
"Well i smoked alot of grass, I popped alot of pills."
"People like you have it easy, abandoned to soon."
"If it wasn't for nips being so good at building ships, the yards would still be open on the Tyne."
"Take your money and your druaaaaaaaaugs."
"Bruce Berry was a workin man he used to load that econoline."
"And your the only one who laughs at my jokes and there always bad."
"When you clean out the hive, does it make you wanna cry, like your still bein followed by the teenage FBI." you get the gist.

Random Notes Barely above Ground

(all names changed to protect the innocent)

It's not real it's surreal. Walked into the mini-mart this fine, grey, snowy morning and Vladimir the Ukrainian guy who works there was behind the counter, cigarette smoke wafting into the air, (yes health Nazis he smokes right behind the register) fluorescent lights blazing and Falco's "Rock Me Amadeus" blasting from his radio. I'm not sure how long it's been since i've heard this song but watching a Ukrainian sing along in his heavy accent to an Austrian with a heavy accent is priceless. Needless to say i scored my coffee and paper and Vlad and i debated the merits of the Great Falco as we both stuttered along, c-c-c-come on now rock me Amadeus.

A short time later....

I pulled into the parking lot and noticed the imbecile in front of me had a nice W STILL THE PRESIDENT sticker plastered to the back of his SUV. Even the wake and bake couldn't suppress my rage and disdain for this imbecile. I would've liked to pull him out of his GMC Behemoth and kick his ass on the spot and then thank him for voting for a complete jackass. "hey thanks for making us the laughing stock of the free world and alienating our allies and blowing billions of dollars and eliminating the middle class, which you're part of jerk-off, oh yeah and here's another kick in the balls for my European friends for good measure."