Rest In Piece While The World Is Coming Down

16 04 2010

Hey Pete, Rest in Peace. Taking that D train to heaven, I think.

When I was a good deal younger, and had gone through a period of teenage upheaval, I discovered completely by accident a band that was not only wildly different in their sound but also brazenly honest, which appealed strongly to my unbeknownst senses. Type O Negative was the first decent metal band I ever saw play live and it was at The Marquee Theater in Tempe, Arizona – I still have the ticket stub stored away with other sentimental items. They played a great set, appearing in orange prison outfits, the stage was arranged with chicken wire fencing and began the show with the theme song from the television show ‘COPS’, needless to say, I found this to be quite amusing. After they played their set, I was awestruck and knew then that I would be a lifelong fan of the Brooklyn based quartet, sometimes known as the Drab Four due to their interests in morbid humor and the darker sides of life. April 14th, 2010 was a said day for metal and Gothic rock enthusiasts. It was the day a legend among musicians passed, and much like the loss of his own friends and influences (see the campy song ‘Halloween in Heaven’) – he passed away with a legacy not yet fully constructed. Peter Steele, born Petrus T. Ratajczyk, was the loudmouth lead singer and bassist for the Gothic rock/thrash band Type O Negative. Any dedicated fan would know him on a seemingly personal level due to the up-close and sometimes boisterous antics displayed on video content supplemented in two officially released videos/DVDs – ‘After Dark’ and ‘Symphony for the Devil’ – but the antics were part of his personality which made him both liked and avoided by friends and family. In his lyrics were words of humor, wisdom, and brutal honesty. After he was sentenced to a New York prison for drug use, he cleaned up his act and helped put together the band’s last full length album ‘Dead Again’ which was received with praise for it’s authenticity to earlier material and a spattering of clarity in the recordings, but the most foreboding sense of the record lies in a song that shares the album’s namesake. He starts the song by singing, “The first to admit I’m a doomed drug addict…”, a struggle with cocaine addiction proved to be a difficult and apparent hazard to his health. He goes on to sing, “No excuse for drug abuse, said this line a thousand times…”, this mantra evidently true which he follows with, “Please make me smile if you learn from my trials, well, we all pay the price maybe saving your life for ya…” The song’s chorus reads, “I can’t believe I died last, oh God, I’m dead again.” A self-fulfilling prophecy perhaps, but an honest appraisal of his mistakes and poor life decisions which make him more than a musician, but a sort of streetwise, poor man’s philosopher.

When I heard the news from my significant other, I laughed and told her it was probably just another hoax not unlike the notorious prank pulled by the front man years ago stating on the band’s web page that he had died, attached to the article was an image of a tombstone with his name carved in bold insignia. It wasn’t until later that night when I read a statement released by the band that stated it was not a hoax and that Peter Steele, the towering giant with a bellowing voice, had actually died. I was shocked and crushed. The album ‘Dead Again’ had, which was written and recorded back in 2007, had certainly exemplified his ending. On this solemn day, after his passing, attire in dark green and black is demanded and while the world comes down a little bit for all of his fans – I think they will remember him not as a profit of doom or a blind man, like he might have compared himself to, but rather as the green man. A gifted vocalist who captivated every audience with genuine love for music and connection to fans. He will be greatly missed by all of his fans who knew how to appreciate the doom and gloom he made sound so sincere and unremitting power in every song.





SWINE FLU BREAKING NEWS! UPDATED!

1 05 2009




War Games

9 03 2009

So this is a possibility? REALLY? I'll take it. Any day, any time. Anyways, on with the Eternal War Games! The highest stakes. The most real it could be.

So this is a possibility? REALLY? I'll take it. Any day, any time. Anyways, on with the Eternal War Games! The highest stakes. The most real it could be.

This blog was specifically meant to only be oriented around creativity, bizarre items of interest, other unusual things… I had another blog designed to tackle the political foray, I have long since abandoned that post. Why. Why. Well, I had to formulate. Had to dig into that bag of psychotropic wonder and pull out the rabbit. Speak with the little fella and gain as much intell as I possibly could and report what Mr. Rabbit had to say about the otherside, that dank oblivion just beyond human comprehension of what is real and true and concrete. Well, concrete would be the End of Times.

Not the End of the World, an end of times, something to ponder the difference of. Well, Times are a phase, world is existence. Finite and solemn. I’m no prophet, I can read though. I can read propaganda though, I can also read the headlines. What my mind decides as pure conjecture and raw stimulis seperates the two and creates piles of information. I load the piles into cardboard boxes and either submit said data into my grey matter to float around and spark links to other floating thoughts.

Onto the headline.

North Korea wants to lob up a satelite so they can test nuclear missiles, claims they will knock the hell outta whoever stands in their way of reaching celestial heights. Alright, here’s the thing. Let’s say some country, could be any country, blocks the satelite from entering the atmosphere or corrupts the mission, NK gets pissy and investigates the problem. Most likely the country that did it will either brag about it in front of the rest of the world or it’ll be a super power nation that will force blame onto another country. Oh, ouch.

Lest we forget, the alternative to the situation: North Korea gloats about their newly discovered feat and tests atomic weaponry so that they too can brazen their big muscle lumps to the rest of the world; super, another pile of shit everyone gets to worry about. Lets just say ill-man Mah Johngg dongg has a rough day, inferiority complex has been acting up, no pills for that. Only thing to do is release a load, a super payload of dynamic uber-thrust, to dump a massive rock of black, gooey ghostly death! Where? Let’s say America? China? Russia? Who knows how things really go down.

I don’t dount that there are higher powers above the cosmetic faces we see on the news everyday, I don’t doubt that we are all pawns and that what I am saying right now may one day be completely illegal, but I do doubt the storyline these mega-dictatorships pursue. It’s rotten and kinda silly. Like a Grisham bestseller. Let’s just play the fucking game. Fold the cards and let it go, gentleman, it’s just a game. A game that anyone with a keen intellect, some bullets and thermite can even the score with.

Lunacy? Sure.

Heil America.
Enjoy this prison-scum land, we built it together and took the orders.
Take it back or fix it up.
May be too late.

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Nicorette and Me and Barry Obama.

25 02 2009

Just so there is absolutely NO confusion: I am not Jewish, I dont claim to be or want to be, but this fellow is and is proud to be against B.O., and that has nothing to do with this blog...

Just so there is absolutely NO confusion: I am not Jewish, I don't claim to be or want to be, but this fellow is and is proud to be against B.O., and that has nothing to do with this blog...

I did not vote for Mr. Obama (went with the always stylish Bob Barr for moral reasons), but I will say this however, having an addiction to nicotine or tobacco by products is not as unhealthy as some of our previious presidents’ habits. I was combing the internet for information on Nicorette when I came across a forum where people were talking shit about Obama. “Do we really want a president whos in nicotine withdrawl”..

Time for a reality blast. Our last president was an adrenaline junky, often spent his time inebriated or “coked out” as the kids put it and couldn’t even phrase a complete sentence. “Working hard to putting food on your family”, deserves a double take and a whacky sound effect.

Never mind that, what about ol’ honest Abe, his addiction to fine theatre led to his untimely demise. What about Taft and his affinity for hot water holding devices, he started a trend in the White House that still hasn’t left the building. Damn bathtubs. What about Franklin Delano Roosevelt? He always had a lit up fag in his hand!

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Biologically Altered Food

22 02 2009

At what point do symmetrical, or irregular as you see fit, become wholly, totally, disturbingly unsavory? Lets watch the headlines and see... If someone can screw up peanuts, they can screw up these strange oddities aswell.

At what point do symmetrical fruits and veggies, or irregular as you see fit, become wholly, totally, disturbingly unsavory? Let's watch the headlines and see... If someone can screw up peanuts, they can screw up these strange oddities aswell.


What? Oh yes, this term applies to food that has been chemically, organically or anatomically re-structered.. Right, just like cosmetic surgery but for Vegans! Only problem is that vegans, if they were smart wouldn’t touch these boomarang shapped honeydew with a ten foot pole.

It is a very exciting time in the scientific world, sure, I’ll warrant that. Technology is a wonderful thing. Advancing on the trecherous terrain in cancer cell treatment and the recent bill proposed by senate to retain everyone’s internet actions for 2 long years, but when ever will the madness end? Certainly not with GRAPPLES! I strolled over to the grocery store today, just picking up a few odds and ends, only to discover Grapples. Mhmm, the American fusion of very stupid words to create a new word. Shamwow. We’ve done it, grape apples, we the human race have taken an awfully obscure taste and again fused it to another distinct shape. Grappline. Grape infused apple wine. That’s next.

I know super detective Adrian Monk form the hit tv show, Monk, is absolutely cheerful about this endeavour but it’s unnatural. Isn’t it?

Unless it never rots and I can use the pyramid shaped watermelons for iconic photo opps in Wal-Mart well then ALRIGHT! otherwise, I’ll pass.

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Tag, you’re it…

21 02 2009

I wrote this as fast as I could using the most popular tags according to WordPress, and I used most of them. Can you do any better?!

I wrote this as fast as I could using the most popular tags according to WordPress, and I used most of them. Can you do any better?!

What are we but a whole mess of animals trying to piece together some semblance of art and architecture, in Australia I experienced one of the greatest Autumn seasons I’ve ever had, possibly since I was a baby. I met up with some folks that played in a band that was from Barcelona. They told me about the cold beaches in Berlin, I had no idea there was an ocean in or around Berlin. We went bird hunting since it was my birthday, I’ve done that every year since I can remember. Dress in all black, sometimes black and white and blue and run bw and through the forest or in this case the California landscape. I was only hunting with my cameraphone though and what with all of the camping ordeals I figured Canada was my next location. So I loaded myself up in a canon of a car and shot across the country, picking up stray cats from Chicago and china men searching for the spirit of Christmas. I was obliged to stop at a church, to relieve myself of all of the sins the city clouds had poured over me. The waves of color in that church were outstanding, concerts of cute dancing dogs played all day long in the aisles, it as odd to say the least but in England, North Dakota that’s how they do things. I figured Canada was close enough to Europe that I could justswing by and visit my fall family, the fashionistas who through film festivals every year in Florida, but they weren’t home. They had planted some rather nice flowers which caught my attention, they looked similar to food so I began to eat them. Soon enough it was as if a football game had taken place and all of France with their friends were allowed to trample the flower patch, enough fun for me, I ruined their garden. After that I geotagged german girls and headed out to mark some graffiti dressed in green Halloween outfits. It reminded me of hiking across Hawaii and the holiday home I stayed in to wait for the owners to come back, they were in India and then off to Ireland. Something about those folks and islands, Japan, Italy, Italia. Their kids were great though. All winter we would go from Mexico to New York wearing yellow zookeeper outfits and tripping on White Lightning acid. Vancouver, that’s where the story resumes, not in Texas or Taiwan. I was watching a sunset over the trees and taking pictures of people in deep ravines. It was a remarkable, firecracker time. That’s when I died.

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The Forgetting Sky

19 02 2009
Nothing could be harder then breaking away from the societal norm...

Nothing could be harder then breaking away from the societal norm...

It was a long night in the middle of a hot summer, a whisper of a breeze brushed against my face. I remember the stars were shining bright between the large storm clouds. The heaviness of the atmosphere was overwhelming and the humidity was penetrating. The ground was still warm from the sun that scorched it from the moment it first rose early in the morning. I was sitting in the middle of a wash; there were desert trees behind me and a small fire at my feet.

Today is the third day of being free from the oppression of responsibilities galore. No more adrenaline storing all day in my veins, itching beneath my skin, waiting to burst through my epidural layers and send me blindly speeding down the street in a car my bank owns, heading towards a house I’ll never own and a stark callousness developing over my psyche. No science to this art. A faulty consciousness led me to this determination of developing the atypical, perfect life. Who did I hear this from? Everyone who went through the same things as I; they reeled me in with tales of insipid lore and backward logic, and like a fool I consented. To own something is to be chained to something. It was heart-wrenching to know that at any minute my life could fall completely apart if I were to make an unwise investment or be robbed or to piss away my money. Everything revolved around money and the stigma of not going with the flow repelled me enough to spend a few years working and serving, eating and praying, living and dying. Always acknowledging the dualities of existence but not truly being compelled to live by them, to feel them, which were okay?

I like when it rains out here. It’s never too heavy, always a light sprinkle as if to refresh my mind. My mind. That’s a funny thing, it seems like I’ve abused it in some way, somehow endangering its possibility to grow and grapevine throughout the world of knowledge. Letting it sit tightly wrapped, fusing to my skull. Shrinking within the primordial gelatinous brain locked inside. Archways and arcades of the most supreme decay, wrought with disease and festering black bubbles clinging to the chords and ganglions. The hemisphere divided by intangible blackness, a corrosion of malaise left to rot over time. Dangerous chemical lesions corroded forever. Out here on the desert plane, I can look out into the fear and unknown of the night and half expect to be attacked by the figments of my spasmodic imagination. The twinkling shining overhead my only friend out here, not that friendship with anything is required for freedom from the mundane, but it helps.

So far out, I’m so long gone. I can fall asleep out here, I can wake up tomorrow and walk another ten or twenty miles until I stop to rest and sleep again. I could do this every day and night until I die and wither away and why not, just let hell come to me, quit fighting the unforeseeable. That is what freedom is all about.

I don’t think I could accomplish or learn anything from this, in all practical scenarios that could and will most likely play out, I am out here to commit suicide, to finally have something I can control. Me, the peasant working man, I chose this because that was all that was left for me to choose. I don’t see how turning back to that life forsaken house of cards would be a possibility. I don’t see why that would matter, to negate the very fact that I am out here in the dirt facing inevitable discovery of a life hereafter. Oh, what the hell. This is the only path. To sleep until the sun arises, and then to walk on and on.

I pass cacti and shrubs, dirt mounds and snake holes and the sun is hotter than hell. I walk through the ditches and come to a mountain range. There are manmade roads nearby, trucks barreling through. Most likely mining operations, someone has to come out here and do the work. My mind trails off to that spot, saying to myself, “I wonder if they’re paid well”. Nasty habit to break, always so concerned about the greenback, and its plural denominations.

Green is something you don’t see much of out in the desert, not inherently speaking. Sure the cactus plants are green, as is the summer grass growing all over, but the proverbial envious forest green, not so much around here. Not anymore since the well has dried and the green is gone. The first battered and broken land, the desert is a place to retreat now, not to grow and prosper in the unluckiest and most unexpected of places. No. This is nature’s mirror, the reflecting sands of sanctum dispersal.

I hike upwards on the mountain, all the while struggling to maintain balanced and level. Continue upwards, all the way to the top. Grab onto the stones and pull, gain leverage against this landmark. Arise over the rampant arid ground and onward toward the pinnacle. The top. Think about peering over and discovering life above the rest, the motivation and dexterity it took to stand there exhausted and yet full of vigor. I can stand at the top, having achieved a small fortune of pride and wealth in sweat and self-gain. I will look forever and sit down, quietly mulling over the direction I will go and then I will walk on.

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