Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Sunday, November 25, 2007
How can you say no? When you look at that body. that skin covering those bones. made of milk and sugar, chocolate and cinnamon. How can you stop? My tongue grew a few pant sizes. It pushed it's way out of my mouth. After this happens saying "no" is impossible. All you can do is taste all the mysteries of that skin. The smell that creeps from the deep, dark depths of the denim. Like the waft of hot apple pie, fresh from the oven, that lifts cartoon characters off their feet. I floated over her suspended by this smell. My tongue hanging down over her. I try to say no again, but i can't. Men who are starving should never float over a meal.
It's the smell that intoxicates. I could sit in front of this torture for hours and never salivate. But the smell. that terrible, glorious smell of cloth and sex. Sweet sweat. Age, Wisdom. The smell has a voice. With my cheek pressed against the stomach, Trying so desperately to hear anything. The voice of God maybe. "someone say no for me." The temptress is part cat i believe. Lying there, still. Purring because she wants me to pet her. Letting me know that it is okay for me to come close. "I'm no threat." she says. "Oh but you are. Also, you are afraid of water. Of this i am certain."
My tongue did shrink.
And the smell did die.
her skin wrinkled and stretched.
Sagging where it shouldn't
She aged 100 years.
Milk Curdled
Sugar turned to dirt.
Chocolate to Tree bark
Cinnamon to Ash.
What i smelled next made me gag.
Her head separated from her body. Old and dead.
the body the witch had concealed from her victim.
i had to touch her to push her away. My hands breaking her skin. It ran through my fingers like clay. There was no blood. Only dust.
Then i said "no."
It was much easier that time.
It's the smell that intoxicates. I could sit in front of this torture for hours and never salivate. But the smell. that terrible, glorious smell of cloth and sex. Sweet sweat. Age, Wisdom. The smell has a voice. With my cheek pressed against the stomach, Trying so desperately to hear anything. The voice of God maybe. "someone say no for me." The temptress is part cat i believe. Lying there, still. Purring because she wants me to pet her. Letting me know that it is okay for me to come close. "I'm no threat." she says. "Oh but you are. Also, you are afraid of water. Of this i am certain."
My tongue did shrink.
And the smell did die.
her skin wrinkled and stretched.
Sagging where it shouldn't
She aged 100 years.
Milk Curdled
Sugar turned to dirt.
Chocolate to Tree bark
Cinnamon to Ash.
What i smelled next made me gag.
Her head separated from her body. Old and dead.
the body the witch had concealed from her victim.
i had to touch her to push her away. My hands breaking her skin. It ran through my fingers like clay. There was no blood. Only dust.
Then i said "no."
It was much easier that time.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Friday, November 2, 2007
Pouring
The inside of my mind swirls. It's filled with cigarette smoke and dead leaves coffee and chocolate. I'm in a coffee shop in Louisville, Kentucky, begging myself to write. To just sit down and write anything. Whatever comes out, just vomit on the page. Easy to say when you have an iron stomach and an empty mind. There is something magical about the cold air. It makes my mind wander around corners i never dreamed of turning. I wish it were easier to control my own mind. Be a thinker, a New-Thoughter even. But what do i think about? Cigarette smoke and dead leaves, coffee and chocolate.
This tour is pretty amazing to think about. The relationships that have formed over the year. Blossomed and died. We have lived in vans that have moved across the country. We've slept on your floors and cleaned out your kitchen. We know each other even better than our own mothers do. The booze and the drugs do that for us. We show our true selves at these hotel rooms and truck stops. I don't think i would ever change it.
I think about these times and how i have let them slip by without note. The boring days on the open road will one day be considered the best times of my life. And now that it is getting closer to the end i wish i could go back and record it all. every girls face, every joke, every plate of eggs, cup of coffee, every fucking gas station.
What a blur this is. The hot nights of summer and the freezing days of winter blend into one. I don't remember names of venues or restaurants around the country. I barely remember the names of the women whose faces i have kissed. I should feel pretty awful about this but i just don't. I can't find love in these people. I feel so much like a character. I am the man with the beard. a spokes person for all that is heavy metal these days. The only problem is that i really don't like heavy metal. And half of the people i talk to at these shows make me feel less and less like a person everyday. How would they really feel if i cried in front of them?
I sound like a girl. Whining about my troubles. Who am i to complain? I get to travel the world playing rock and roll. people would kill for this. Right? I do love one thing about it. I love these boys. I need these boys. My brothers, my best friends, my family.
I see Josh on stage, singing with the same voice he has had since he was 17. The most coarse and beautiful sounds. The songs i've grown up loving. I see so many things in him. So much joy and pain. The nicest man i have ever met. He is living the true Rock n Roll lifestyle. He got into our van with a guitar, a bag of clothes and a box of 7" records. I don't think i am brave enough to do that.
And there is Jared. The secret idol. I've said it a million times, he has the prettiest, most amazing voice I have ever heard, he will never believe it. The Humble Heart breaker. It's so great to have him back on stage again. To here what he has poured himself into. It calms me makes me believe in music. Makes me want them to change the world. God i hope they can do it. Some one has to.
Shall i go on?
Brandon is evil in the sexiest way. I honestly believe that he could start a cult and people would follow. never questioning what he says. It's clearly the eyes. That boy has the devils eyes. And he's passionate about love and hate. about the darkness. you can see it in him. It's not a game.
These are the faces that i care about. But i don't know if they realize how much they have effect they have had on me. I only realize how much i truly love these souls when i'm back home thinking about these boys. These rooms with no windows. No reminders of the life i leave at home everytime i hop in the van. They are running jokes, long laughs, the party that never gets out of hand. They are comforting and for that i am forever thankful.
before i left that last show in South Carolina i promised Brandon that i would shoot him in the head if he turned into a zombie but it would be a hell of a lot harder to stab him in the heart had he turned into a vampire. This statement caught me again today as i was going through some notes that i had jotted. I don't think i have met a woman yet whom i couldn't send to the depths of hell if she became one of the undead. My brothers are another story. I would follow them to the ends of the earth, Forever if need be.
This tour is pretty amazing to think about. The relationships that have formed over the year. Blossomed and died. We have lived in vans that have moved across the country. We've slept on your floors and cleaned out your kitchen. We know each other even better than our own mothers do. The booze and the drugs do that for us. We show our true selves at these hotel rooms and truck stops. I don't think i would ever change it.
I think about these times and how i have let them slip by without note. The boring days on the open road will one day be considered the best times of my life. And now that it is getting closer to the end i wish i could go back and record it all. every girls face, every joke, every plate of eggs, cup of coffee, every fucking gas station.
What a blur this is. The hot nights of summer and the freezing days of winter blend into one. I don't remember names of venues or restaurants around the country. I barely remember the names of the women whose faces i have kissed. I should feel pretty awful about this but i just don't. I can't find love in these people. I feel so much like a character. I am the man with the beard. a spokes person for all that is heavy metal these days. The only problem is that i really don't like heavy metal. And half of the people i talk to at these shows make me feel less and less like a person everyday. How would they really feel if i cried in front of them?
I sound like a girl. Whining about my troubles. Who am i to complain? I get to travel the world playing rock and roll. people would kill for this. Right? I do love one thing about it. I love these boys. I need these boys. My brothers, my best friends, my family.
I see Josh on stage, singing with the same voice he has had since he was 17. The most coarse and beautiful sounds. The songs i've grown up loving. I see so many things in him. So much joy and pain. The nicest man i have ever met. He is living the true Rock n Roll lifestyle. He got into our van with a guitar, a bag of clothes and a box of 7" records. I don't think i am brave enough to do that.
And there is Jared. The secret idol. I've said it a million times, he has the prettiest, most amazing voice I have ever heard, he will never believe it. The Humble Heart breaker. It's so great to have him back on stage again. To here what he has poured himself into. It calms me makes me believe in music. Makes me want them to change the world. God i hope they can do it. Some one has to.
Shall i go on?
Brandon is evil in the sexiest way. I honestly believe that he could start a cult and people would follow. never questioning what he says. It's clearly the eyes. That boy has the devils eyes. And he's passionate about love and hate. about the darkness. you can see it in him. It's not a game.
These are the faces that i care about. But i don't know if they realize how much they have effect they have had on me. I only realize how much i truly love these souls when i'm back home thinking about these boys. These rooms with no windows. No reminders of the life i leave at home everytime i hop in the van. They are running jokes, long laughs, the party that never gets out of hand. They are comforting and for that i am forever thankful.
before i left that last show in South Carolina i promised Brandon that i would shoot him in the head if he turned into a zombie but it would be a hell of a lot harder to stab him in the heart had he turned into a vampire. This statement caught me again today as i was going through some notes that i had jotted. I don't think i have met a woman yet whom i couldn't send to the depths of hell if she became one of the undead. My brothers are another story. I would follow them to the ends of the earth, Forever if need be.
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