Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Worlds Fail Me.

Worlds Fail Me.


Silver Tricorder Psychic Video Games, 1.

Decode this, slavering masses. Hyenaspeak. 12/31/09-03/02/10

Milkfat honey to the hardware angel. Melodies in the snow-pups and bon-bons, little wolf print. Dizzying. Komodo dragons. Didst thou squat here?!

For Gawd's sake, don't pee on your electric blanket. It'll short-circuit and fry you!

(We're all just trying to get our cosmic dicks existentially wet.)

Justice. Strength. Agriculture. Weed. Grandma loves the Foo Fighters.

"194732/I'm catching up to you."

Made it home from tour tonight, safe and sound and with a brand new Samiam record to play on the Ground Zero turntable I still use. The next New Madrid EP is going to be called "Methamphibian". You's a good-lookin white boy.

"Fuck the scene. Fuck the crew. Fuck everyone".

"I lost like a whole fucking pack of Camels. Pissed. DNO was awesome. I want to come visit you soon".

Exploding now, listening to NASA real loud, Martian time-slipping.
I may need to retreat with coffee.
Physically retreat with coffee physically.
I'm shitting stars.
It's already been 3 am 3 times.
I am a werewolf on the can, smoking silver full-flavors.
Remind me to tell you about "Catwoman".
This is weird loose lucid mellow dreamy,
like a joke made of eggs.
Thoughts hit the ground running and evolving
and I'm already lost.
Not enuff words.
I am synthesizing simple cotton.
I think Justin just said his nipples were dry.

"Party surprise! She had to remember it for later."

Future gifts for the self-serving masters of our own destiny. We're a joke in its twenties. Winter of Robertson. Undgen rangs.

"Covered in shat".

Bullshit weather. Winter of Sludge 2010. Nothing but Sabbath and My War until May. Cigarette butt salad with fingernails and cough syrup dressing. CONSUME. CONSUME. CONSUME.

The new pink is rattlesnake pink.
My bloody valentinnnn.
Masonic tools.
Cushions made of insect wings.
What was the name of the road I last lived on in Springfield
"Linwood I think"
It's ok I forget as as soon as I close my eyes again.
Please please to make me remind me to tell you about Henry's brother
And use keywords playboy and chauvinist.
I am laughing hysterics mad deep in my attic
blanket safehouse, John Connor style
No. Everything smells like piss.
Call is an android.
I'm taking the battery out of my wet cell phone.

"That's ok. I threw up a lot. Scrounging for bourbon. I eat sweetened berries."

I'm still up, thinking about watching the sunrise as I walk to your house. I'll call you in a bit. Sorry for being slightly inconvenient so early in the am. I'm going to write a love song to tobacco, but obtuse so that it sounds like it's about a girl. I want to use the line "I can smell you in my clothes the morning after".

Maybe the drugs turned my heartbeat to a click track/Walkin down Memorial with my hand on my nutsack.

We listen to better music than anyone ever.

"I count the days in 24 oz increments."
Dime sacks and half-stacks.
"Crate heads and soiled beds. I'ma get on SSI. Diagnosis: Too Badass for Gainful Employment."

They givin Dietz the whisk. Balcony seats for DBT = bogus. Getting wasted with good ol' boys in the balcony = awesome.

Chork pops. We smokum weedum? Erk and Jerk.

"Finding a Reason to Leave" sounds like a song I need to write. The next Henry Daggs record should be called "Hearsay and Heresy."

"I'm beyond that average cha-cha." - Kool Keith

"If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe." - Carl Sagan

"Someone just said 80 beats per minute. I heard Andy Dietz per minute."

There is nothing nothing nothing like a cigarette right now.

"Someday a real rain is gonna come and clean up this mess." - Sick of It All

"Will you bring cigarettes if you come over?"

I just burnt the shit out of myself, scalded my back in the shower. Sucks bad.

Worlds fail me. I saw so many flying saucers last night. The mothership almost landed.

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