Dine Out to End Hunger
..............................................I don't know what is more offensive, this, or dressing girls up in $3,000 pink dresses for $1,000 a plate bubbly Breast Cancer galas to talk smack about other rich girls.


Have you ever wanted something?
I will let you use me and use me. and then when I am on the brink of death, you will swoop in and save me so you can resurrect me.


trick bitch. tricky bitch. dropping out of elevators, face down, jackets off.

heavy on the reds, junky, understand what i'm saying, messenger bag, eyeballing me, sharp asiatics, dropping out of elevators, face down, pleasure. 8th floor holds all the knowledge, climbing to a perfect death, ding resonates throughout the lobby, difficult when the speeds are so mixed up, red yellow ("the wild bunch"), pink, blue, black, ascent, green cap, black, grey, descent. grey (right), red (left), ding, black black, striped gone. 2 in 2. red awaits to cut. red in 3. blue ascent ("STAFF"), beautiful sublime sex, blue in 5, green on red, old blue departs in 3, dark glasses, "we're updating our virus catcher" -- old wisehair, prime position, pole position, green in the 1, what will be cut? whole new level of symbolic essence, white in the 2, it's getting heavy, black bobbing ponytail, trying to keep up with the smashing blond ascending, too much pressure, too topheavy, turbaned woman descends, sneeze.

key is in your eye, shake it while you got it, simultaneous old man to the right, 2 to the left, orange means were cycling, what level will be next? insanity. crazy 88s. hold the right hand steady, no shakes allowed, braided ponytail departs, hair mass slung over left shoulder, 2 and 3 open, black tights, swallowed up boa constrictors tall male blond ascends, chasing? say goodbye to the red, plaids coming through, know that i am writing the truth, feel me, harboring hate and fear, fat as all hell, only the right words to say, jacketed 20-something keeling over his computer waiting for answers, hope he gets them, else trundle out to lunch and a beer. pacing yourself with coffee, stabbing at the steps, backpack elongated inches behind you (ll bean), what do your glasses foreclose? not-not greys, 3, 2-5 split, ding, cell phone volume adjusted, fearing the blue descent, strong as hell, bagel in the 1, (screams) losing at poker, fourth or fifth time the old timer crosses me (tattoo on right arm), 1812 overature (western).

spiralling danger innumerable ones, fishing hat gone left, purple ll bean backpack in the 1, already accomplished, say goodbye to big ears, you were beautiful while you were here, a panther descends, a soccer game ends.


clueless types going again and again to the same well. ding ding. manic. pulling hair back, hat backwards, meaningful, all meaningful, polish town, whispy mohawk, hardcore farts, face like an onion, zen squares, making jokes, mr cheeks, rolling, tired as hell, lacrosse players exiting, the elevator door closes, whimsical fanatasies of movie heroes, coming to unfurl me, tearing at a sheet of paper, can you hear it? moving in and out of tense (ding, blondie) and perspective, they are leaving me in their high heels, accusing me of being unkind when in fact i was saving the last dance, not mocking kerouac, never having been able to dig on bowles, (ding goes the white hat), what can a leg tell you, keep it light soul sister, transcend the negative, cornering my red and blue style, X will arise first, why should i worry, everything is going to be allright, now that i am able to play at the right speed, flip flops enormous, how could one man look at so much, how could so much exist in the world, this is not nonsense, security now in the building, moving quicker now, palpable fear, paper rustling, will there be a fire?
motherfucker touching my foot under the desk. ding so loud it shrieks. he did it again, i swear i'm going to punch him in his glasses-ridden face, dogshit motherfcuker. black orpheus. ding. blonde hungering for knowledge, trying to keep her desires straight, limp-dicked fcuks all around her, jodorowsky known for his montrosity, pasolini, no significance in anything, tracing the beats of the library, waiting for my turn to move, hip-jangle comedian-librarian again on the move, investigating, waiting, waiting, waiting, looking into their faces to be born again, old man slapping the pink girl's ass, really she tripped, wise men gathering around to watch her recover like lechers, wanting the ponytail to bob harmoniously to their own individual beat, scum-sucking whores of the apocalypse, putting the sunglasses back to beat out the day, thinking about Biggie again and again, dying, so young, harmony with the beat, head down, in penance for sins, looking straight ahead with a dull dead stare, wanting to be forgiven, loading the elevator up, waiting for her to come off and save me, white tarheel skullcap, badass motherfcukers, hard to the core, doing ab exercises to get their 6 packs, wearing boots, not sneakers, sneezing when it's all over.

El Topo
.................this is really some off the wall hot shit. so this western gunslinger has to defeat these different adversaries. kind of like "ninja scroll". it's kind of buddhist, but also kind of a commentary on plato and western philosophy. it's really a mangled imperfect work though......like the writing is several different stories strung together by almost nothing. some strange lesbian shit too, commentary on sex, close-up of two female tongues touching each other like hesitant iguana tongues, slippery and saliva strands, erotic and full of death-sex. filmed by the dead sea, you get this real sense of the dry dry dry desert of the post-apocalypse, riding through the desert on horse, time has no meaning.
black man with tie. extend your senses. blond and blue come out of the elevator. blue and blue and blond and blond. coming off green to me. there must be some kind of linearity in the surroundings. ding. respect the exterior! red dead ahead. ding. respect the exterior! 2 in the elevator, man across from me sensing i am appropriating transcendental vibes, who knows more about movies than me? printer going, keys jangling in pocket, workman in red, now leaving, time for a cola? now a librarian in blue, his keys jangling off hip, is he chasing the workman?, ding, same red again in elevator, jew-fro crossing my path, blond exiting stage left, wondering if wayne, pa is homing in on my blog, ding yet again, will the elevator never stop going, green pointy ____ hollering at me, now doubles back again, man with limp and longhorn hat sitting down near to type, what does he have to say, his transistor CB radio goes off bloop-beep fuck him, what an annoyance, old lady crossing to the right, turn that shit down, man! fucking asshole, he's not in the game, green ascending stairs, waiting for me to finish, scully-covered black dude getting up, calling me a racist, no just kidding, my own sense of self-hate, CB gone, only a moment to look a porn i suppose, perhaps he needed a work detail invoice thing, blond staring at me, keep your wits about you, else exit.


i am looking at her and she is so perfectly innocent. her eyes are open, searching, waiting; she is so active, in motion, peering through those dull lenses at a fantastically alive world. what does it mean to be woman? does she quiver her body through when she has orgasm, arching her spine back, lapsing into a coma of a second while her brain waves communicate with the ethereal? and then back down to the dullness of her limbs, back to earth to search out the next one and the next one that needs doing, fixing, completion. pleasure is an innocence grown repetitious.


Six split nine
..............you have given up on me.


man don't be chilly i wanted to tell you to wear your moccasins in the street like ________.

................................there is this trend that i think started a couple of months ago, it may be over now, that was a return to classic rock, led zepplin, etc. i'm not sure why music regresses like this every once in a while. something is built up, like a new kind of music, but it is imperfect, there are still gaps that can be filled........so we see the blues/rock form, which can exist in perhaps infinite combinations, repeating and repeating, never exactly the same, sometimes different enough to the ears that we forget the predecessors, the led zepplins, the jimi hendrixes. but don't get it twisted......this is a repetitious and derivative form, good for a moment and then gone due to how quickly it can be mapped to our music brains.......for a blues/rock guitrarist to really do something that would be worth keeping -- this would mean making something like screamin jay hawkins recording of "i put a spell on you" (1955, same year as "rebel without a cause"), a song that could exist in all times and at the same time exists in no time, in an anti-time where time does not progress or regress, but is immanent to our brains in every moment, the purity of the golden white light.


love the __, (hundred) peering at the asians? old folks (nina simone) in camo caps, blessing me silently with books of Mormon, p.ynchon, j brown, quentin tarantino, lovble snarks, sharks, cards, and _______.
den of theives, sneakers, jackets, rainy day. _____ turning around to look at me, what is she waiting for?


Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots
............it's funny when an album goes to the center of the media world and then falls away. this album still evokes emotion, even if it is cheesy, sort of bathetic. "evil robots win?" oh yoshimi.
Polish Town
........................I was somewhere in brooklyn, fort greene or williamsburg, and this drunk man came up to me and screamed, "This is Polish town!" then we spoke about john coltrane and polish saxophonists that try to ape his style. somehow that conversation felt significant.


Cameron Indoor Stadium
..................I've never been to a KKK rally but I can now say i have been to Cameron Indoor Stadium. rich white people screaming at the top of their lungs, cheering on a predominantly pasty white team to defeat a predominantly black team (Indiana U). those people were wealthy! it was also strange because cameron feels like your high school gymnasium, wood seats, small concessions, long line for a tiny men's bathroom, commentators almost seated with the fans in the rafters. you almost expect when they win for everyone to start writhing on the parquet floor in a seething mess of naked white bodies, limbs.
"chickenheads be clucking when big be bucking". mack 10 with the chrome handling. you know what i mean. i'm sitting here bugging out. no, not really, someone is saying this and i'm transcribing it. there are multiple layers of affects and things, things indescribable, girls hiking up their shorts, where am i? it's hard to tell, east coast overdose, girls trundling luggage through the library, reading kafka and joyce, who knew? but still the people are coming for me, coming to take away my library card and return me to the coffeeshop where i deserve and belong. you know? that's all, and that's the way it is. wish it was another way (the back of my hand). fantasies.


Global Warming
............................A couple of mild winters in a row and everybody is saying that global warming can now be legitimated as a reality (icebergs falling, trees budding at the wrong time, migration patterns disturbed). I agree with "them". we are not going to have enough rainfall to produce enough grain to feed all the people on earth. start preparing now. got some friends that have gone back to nature. can't be too bad.
Like a Velvet Glove Cast in Iron
........this is a legitamately scary comic. don't fuck around with this until you are ready. Dan Clowes, writer of _Ghost World_, had some dark shit on the brain when he started this in 1989. you might think it is incoherent, but it is the jumps in narration, the mix of dreams and reality that make it unnerving. i don't particularly like a "good scare", but if we are going to talk about art in the graphic novel form, this is it.

Big Dig (Re-)Construction

...................................................I find this unbelievable. 10 years in the making, the construction companies fuck up, a woman is killed, people are forced to sit in traffic for months more, government employees and bechtel make out like bandits, taxpayers dollars going to this shorter route to the airport so that the rich can fly while the poor sit in traffic, sit on buses..................where is the equity?


Classics (Ratatat)
..................................Talk about mediocrity.......no that's kind of harsh......not wonderful but not stellar....ratatat is so listenable.........but not deep. deep is asking too much. not repetitive. i hear they give a good concert. make-out music? wildcat has a nice sample. kind of like a one-note samba, you know what i mean? put a tiger on your cover in silouette.........come on people, somebody really challenge the mold and make some music...........i got to get a studio so i can commission some stuff............we need new music for the people, to motivate the love and happiness neverending.......................i would say listen to this if you are stoned. but don't be satisfied.

Jessica Simpson Selling DirecTV
............................................................watching football totally depressed by this ad, won't even link it (also laziness),,,,,,,i understand that sex and bodies sell but i was having a dry-heaving reaction watching simpson sell directv via her tits to some football-loving american goober. who really masteurbates to Playboy anymore?

The Outsider (DJ Shadow)
.................................................i really wish this was better. some great instrumentals. but the fact is that bay area hip hop is just on some unlistenable nerd tip. respect to too $hort, rasco and other acclaimed artists to come out of oakland/SF/northern cali, but you simply cannot listen to this shit more than twice unless you have the recall of a burnout. dj shadow has had a fetish for this quannum crap for his entire career, helping out these guys that are living in a simulation of rap reality. i mean, they can't flow, they have nothing to say, and if they do, it's "klever"/witty, nothing that will stand up to feed my seeds. favorites song is david banner's "seeing thangs", unapologetically political, nice hook, starry chorale supporting on the chorus. like i said, the instrumental tracks are good, but don't attempt the depth of arrangement that i enjoyed on private press or endtroducing, a couple of A+ samples as usual. what would an outkast/shadow collabo sound like? why does every schmo have Kid A in their Itunes library? because they're waiting for a shadow album that could top it. weird mix of slow jamz (a la "6 Days") and hyphy here.........buyer beware.

..........................................this thing is overrated. crazy is a catchy song. the whole album is entirely listenable but there is a reason why it has not caught on. if your training is in mashups / cut & paste jobs, you may not be able to acheive a consistent sound...............shadow himself has a hard time putting an imprint on his whole series of work. cee lo is great, lacks depth, his falsetto is great backup, would like to see him team up with outkast again. "do you remember when?" i think the single is a nice testament to a country whose inhabitants are going insane.
wondering how all has been. _____ her softly, i wanted to _____ her softly..........a song for two perhaps in paris, _______ on the couch slow..........peace be unto her and all the parisians, wondering what i am doing with my time, hurting her over and over again, buying mixed drinks, gin and tonics, being nice to bartenders, trying not to smoke, living life like it's golden, magnificent chinese blondes on my shoulder, hard to keep, always going going going doing the next thing, screaming at the top of their lungs when you fuck up, gotta make that cash to keep everybody happy, willing it with skills.



take me to mardi gras please? (trombone). hey, hey,

sunset over marshmellows toasting in a fire, __________, _____, _____.



what would it mean to erase everything?
"hot like cajun". what is it about jay-z that is so awesome? he is pure, so pure, pure notes. "hot like cajun". the lyrics are not amazing. his tonality does not shift as swiftly as biggie's. but it doesn't matter. the mad hatter. chesire cat, alice in wonderland. wonder boys. wonderland. land of wonder. florida, hot as hell, bar, drinking vodka-tonic, straight out of russia, crazy motherfcuker named sean connery. "hot like cajun". robert mccloskey. ______ place. "hot like cajun". creole. new orleans. etuffe, crawfish. girlfriend getting sick. you know (the stee-lo). king stampede. i could write for the spam-bots. how would you like that? "hot like cajun". e.e. cummings. he knew what was up, tree poems. kerouac, the mind, the mind's eye, printing, yes. shout out to the random ones. all the editors and editoresses, fine dresses and goblet necklaces and charms on the wrist, little pianos and hardtack cases for emergencies, silver spoons dipping for sugar and kafka in the unholy hotels, getting haircuts at port authority, ny, waiting for people endlessly to arrive bringing books of philosophy from jail, harlots waiting waiting waiting for the time.


______________. __________________. brain is totally clear, totally ____. _______________. "my bed-stuy flow's delicious". "hot like cajun". "keep your hands high". what happened when your girl rolled up?


The Ghost Face
This says nothing about Ghost Face. You don’t need to know who Ghost is order to get this fun play-on-words. Which is exactly what makes it the most simplistic dumbed-down t-shirt on the market right now. You get no points for cleverness, you dorks! The North Face will be suing your asses immediately! Perhaps when you dig yourself out of a couple Gs of legal bills you will realize that cleverness goes the way of roadkill foxes. North Face/Ghost Face……….I love it…………..idiots!

........................................You got to get this ish. DJ Q-bert unearths the classic breaks from his library and plays them back to back to back to back. Real diggers, hot butter on what say what the popcorn. Bass beats, drums beats, over 250 in all. Difficult to listen to repetitively. Like owning the number pi out to a million digits. Q-bert is legend.


white leather. good morning to the mailman. caravan. birdman. word. what is absolutely and entirely positive? circles.

Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs
.............................Apocalyptic children’s book. Terrifying and humorous. What if the sky starting falling food and people had to escape Earth with sails made of jumbo pizza slices? They don’t make ‘em like this any more. Read it (to your children) just for the pat-of-butter-on-the-mashed-potato-sunset page.


absolute and straight positivity. triple sevens. bubbling to shooting up explosions akira-style.

.......................Every young boy and girl should read this book. Independence. Nature. Danger. Peregrine falcon. Making fire. Running away. Living in a hollowed-out tree.


what is good, no what is really good? i'm working on it. straight and unbelievable positivity. joyce-like. rising out of the mist. only the positivity. listen to the brain talk. the wonderful curvature. what is positive? girls coming up to me with mugs of hot cocoa. it is all blessed. scratches rising to the stars.


Demolition Squeeze Pumpkin Muzik
...........................................................................This is the classic (1994). Originally called Style Warz as far as I knew (from an illicit download in 2001), this ish was re-released 2 years back in CD form. I can't really put into words how seminal this ish is. It will go down with Endtroducing as one of the biggest musical accomplishments of the 1990s. It's interesting how BIG and Tupac were doing their thing and at the same time turntablist projects were also blowing up. Were the dual forms influencing each other? "Are you ready for your prime time workout"? Cinematic. Q-bert, like the scratch incarnate, creating sublime moments to twist your ears up and make you double over, listen again and again, respect.

The Blues Brothers
.........................................What do you get when you put two white guys in dark suits and sunglasses and then have them show-up a host of black people in their own cultural tradition? Fuck White Stripes. Fuck Eric Clapton. Fuck Monster Mike whateverthefuck. It’s called Cultural Imperialism, and all y’all that enjoy this movie for the song-and-dance routines of Cab Calloway, Aretha Franklin, Ray Charles, John Lee Hooker, and James Brown – y’all should have your heads examined. “Four Fried Chickens and a Coke?” The only sweet spot is riding up the Cook County Assessor’s office elevator while “Girl From Ipanema” is playing on the elevator muzak – that’s funny. John Belushi died a dog’s death, and Dan Ackroyd’s funniest shit is still from the 70’s – this movie is totally Soul Plane 1980.


................................On the Road is an ugly beautiful song. Kerouac figured out how to touch the root shakra of his soul through some automatic writing techniques, getting close to how the soul speaks to itself. With a bunch of editing from travel notebooks he created “On the Road” in 1957. I would recommend On the Road to people who need to get out of their own head. Just don’t fetishize him. Learn automatic writing…it may be one of the best lessons for a blocked writer.


................................Why is Akira huge? Blown-up body without organs shooting in every dimension. It’s what happens when you bury things. Motorbikes? Conspiracy? Small sickly children? Destruction.

............................“Time is Illmatic keep static like wool fabric” – “Life’s a Bitch…”. Not much to say on this one. Nas will hold up and Jay-Z will not. Illmatic gets more full record spins than Reasonable Doubt. You can’t compare singles and radio play between the two. Look at how already, 10 years in, Big gets more spins than Tupac… (“separate the weak from the obsolete” (“Who Shot Ya?”)) despite more single radio play back in the day from Tupac, the cleaned-up cute Thug instead of the “heart throb never, black and ugly as ever” (“One More Chance”). All I got to say is, fuck you Jay-Z, prick.