Monday, September 28, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Bill Reid Hollywood Producer
"I don't need no stinkin' ink cartridges.
This script will be implemented with my own freshly transfused blood."
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Understanding
It's like children. You can't understand until you've had one.
So, to paraphrase Steve McQueen in "The Sand Pebbles", "What the hell happened?"
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Harvest Time
Harvest time on the banks of the slow and sultry Rio Grande River with Claire Dishman.
More bountiful than Klaus Nomi's sleeves.
Monday, September 21, 2009
El Cosmico
4th Annual Trans-Pecos Festival of Music and Love
October 9-11, 2009
Marfa, Texas
*see you there Tina G
Friday, September 18, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Ryan Adams
I used to take drugs and drink but I never did that when I was writing. Very Rarely. … I only used speedballs (snorted not shot) at the end of my drug use, which was parallel to my last romance. I am in recovery for both things.
I never KICKED OUT anyone from a concert. The Ryman Auditorium (a shit hole in Nashville) has the balls to charge you for security when you play there but if some college kid, and I mean SOUTHERN college kid decides to get wasted and scream through 7 songs of a solo acoustic performance, they could give a fuck. I went into the audience and handed him what I thought the ticket price was (40 bucks) and asked him to leave. I said "you have successfully ruined this concert so here is your money, now will you go home now so I can at least try and give the rest of this audience what they paid for. It did not work as the woman who runs that shit-hole re-seated him and BELIEVE IT OR NOT people CHEERED when he was ushered to a new seat.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
From Its Wrapping
The dream has emerged from its wrapping of fog. Not all of it, but that does not matter. I recognized it immediately when only a piece of it appeared, as I was lying here in the dark, half asleep.
I relaxed and let more of it come.
A senseless dream, it would seem, and yet powerful enough to have colored all these past few days with its sadness.
It is almost impossible to put down, since nothing happens in it: I am left only with vague impressions of being solitary in the park of some vast city.
Solitary in the sense that although life is going on all around me, the cords that could connect me in any way with the life have been severed, so that I am as alone as if I were a spirit returned from the dead.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
One Could
Friday, September 4, 2009
Chucking
There's armies of cans and bottles, but the bottles are the best. Schlitz, Pearl, and Miller are the best cause you just can't beat a top-notch label on a fine beverage. Coprende? You got your drunks and you got your good drunks and you got your gettin' good and drunk drunks, that is the decidin factor on how the bottle is chucked. Cans don't count. Bottles count. Bottles really count.
You can be man drunk or zombie drunk, but the best technique is to hit the edge of the woods so the bottle don't break, not unless you're a breakin glass kind of chucker that needs to see a million or even a trillion of pieces of jagged glass to feel like a whole man. It's a personal preference, a man's own independent decision.