a Sublime video - badfish [live]

ain't got no money to spend
i hope this night
never ends

whatever bitch. i'm Einstein.

if anyone calls, tell them if they're short with cheese, i can work with them.
stop by fttw on Mondays for shit from johnny.

on the record #11

Queens of the Stone Age – Era Vulgaris

only a man with an all-access press pass could secure an advance copy of this record and survive the impending destruction that would surely follow. we were somewhere on the outskirts of the city when we’d lost our way. i remember the Doktor saying something like, “there’s a roadblock up ahead,” and wildly swinging the car from the highway into a patch of weeds.

after i’d wiped the blood from my nose, i screamed at him. “are you trying to get us killed?” i said, “we haven’t even done anything wrong!”

“i can’t afford to take any chances,” he said. “you might have tomorrow, but i’ve got today.”

we ended up taking a much longer and much more circuitous route to the porno store. through careful calculations, we deduced that a gross of whippets would be necessary to properly “get through” this new Queens record. and while the Doktor lobbied for whiskey to wash it all down, i convinced him with a few sharp blows to his brow that two cases of Milwaukee’s Best would be more feasible. tying on a beery drunk in a hazy Spring afternoon felt like just about the best thing to do. that, and settle down with this new record.

the son-of-a-bitch was hot, rumored to have been smuggled directly from Josh Homme’s den of iniquity by an Arabian princess and her Thai hermaphrodite lover. how it came into my hands is unclear at best and possibly criminal. but in War Season, these types of crimes – piracy, slavery, murdering the homeless, dogfighting – go largely unnoticed. still, i wasn’t about to let this get into just anyone’s hands. that’s why i kept it in my ass pocket.

“put it on,” he said.

“fuck you. not until we get the whippets and the beer. HA HA. soon, we will be on your porch cracking whippets and whistling at the girls that pass by. step on it. and hand me another beer from the cooler.”

our plan had been to do whippets for each song. the train of thought was something like the number of whippets for each track number: one for #1, two for #2, three for #3, etc. half the beer was gone when the needle first dropped on the groove, and that seemed about right. he had a rather nice set-up, what with the speakers aimed out the windows and a few on his roof, not to mention the two strung up on the light poles on the other side of the street. i remember complimenting him on the sound and the volume. he flashed a rather large, stylish blade at me.

“that better not be some kind of bullshit, St. Clair,” he hissed.

the glint of the sunlight off the blade seemed to blind my eyes and whipped me into some kind of weird, atavistic fury. when i came ‘round, the Doktor and i were in the middle of stomping the mailman. shaking those cobwebs from my head, i helped him up and offered him a beer. he declined, and the mace barely fazed us. we queued up that first song again. and again. and then again. after an hour or so, some wild dogs from the neighborhood had gathered near the stoop, yelping and fucking wildly in broad daylight.

it may or may not have been around the third song when the Doktor tripped on the porch and whacked his head against the railing with a hollow, sickening thud. after that, i don’t remember much, except that when i awoke and brushed the glass out of my hair, i found the Doktor still breathing shallowly. i found that encouraging.

the record was skipping idly somewhere off in the distance.

1. turning on the screw
2. sick, sick, sick
3. i'm designer
4. into the hollow
5. misfit love
6. battery acid
7. make it wit chu
8. 3's & 7's
9. suture up your future
10. river in the road
11. run pig run

listen: Queens of the Stone Age - Era Vulgaris [bonus track]
buy: Queens of the Stone Age records

a Marah video - Reservation Girl [live]

i got myself a girl
i took a little ride
into the desert night
i talk a little jive

swing on over and say 'hello' to Marah

i don't give a fuck it's not your birthday

if anyone calls, tell them it's a celebraton, bitches.
stop by fttw on Mondays for shit from johnny. it's birthday week over there. free hardcore porn.

mud farming

“why are we at the farm?”

“drug deal.”

“oh. well why am i here?”

“you don’t go alone to these kinds of things.”

“oh. who are we waiting on?”

“you need to know?”

“you’re right. well how will we know when he gets here?”

“we won’t. i will. and who said it’s a ‘he’?”

“it’s a bitch? she sexy? this might turn out to be a good day after all.”

“who said it was a girl?”

“you did.”

“i did not.”

“yes you did. yes you did, motherfucker. yes you…”

“no. i didn’t. i didn’t say who it...why am i having this conversation with you?”

“i don’t know.”

“me either. let’s make our way over to pig pen.”

“why there?”

“that’s where i’m meeting him.”

“so it is a guy.”

“…”

“why the pig pen?”

“i don’t know man. cuz i’m a greedy motherfucker. i don’t know.”

“it stinks over there.”

“it stinks everywhere. we’re on a farm.”

“oooooooo!!! look. goats.”

“yeah.”

“goats are heavy metal. Satan.”

“what are you doing?”

“what’s it look like? i’m climbing the fence.”

“it looks like you’re retarded.”

“hey goats…hey goats…come here little goats…”

“stop it. you’re getting all muddy. you’re gonna fuck up my interior.”

“what?”

“the car. i just had it detailed.”

“hey goats…hey goats…hey, watch this.”

“what are you doing?”

“i’m squeezing it’s belly.”

“why? what the…”

“HA HA!!! check it out.”

“cut it out. you’re shooting goat shit all over the place.”

“HA HA!!! look it. it’s like a machine gun. A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A.”

“come on, get out of there. it’s all over your shoes.”

“that’s funny though, right.”

“no. it’s demented and sad.”

“why you all serious and shit?”

“…”

“i’ve got a booger in my nose. don’t look at me like that.”

“what?”

“i can feel it. my hands are dirty. i gotta go to the john.”

“where?”

“the head.”

“where?”

“the lav. the loo. the water closet. the powder room. the pisser. the fisting room.”

“WHAT?!?”

“be back in a minute. i sense a rare disturbance in my pants.”

the twlight singers

do you remember when i told you that i had a tale to tell?
let me regale you, child

i think i know my way around by now

listen: the twilight singers - last temptation
listen: the twilight singers - railroad lullaby
buy: the twilight singers records

"this is my chance to redeem myself with mainstream America"

if anyone calls, tell them to undermine their pompous authority, reject their moral standards, make anarchy and disorder your trademarks, cause as much chaos and disruption as possible but don’t let them take you ALIVE!!!

stop by fttw on Mondays for shit from johnny.

Old Man said hope ain’t nothin’ but a prayer to a god i don’t believe

i asked an Old Man how he got to live so long and he said to me don’t be careful with what you’ve got let the crop rot in the field let the clean water run let the weak feel your weight in the Alabama sun don’t be kind or humble or settled of heart bring to bear a heavy weapon before the static starts learn to lie and deceive and sleep easy with its sting walk with thieves run with murderers and curse the birds when they sing trust the god in your wallet and place your faith in a fiend and steal the bread from the mouths of the children as they bleed remember son that it’s only you whose needs be met live with these words and my long life you’ll get Old Man i said what kind of lies you tellin’ me long life a reward for waste and crime and greed he looked at his hands and the lines on his palms and he sat silent for a while and then his words fell real calm my reward for this life has been long years to bear witness to the seeds i have sown watch them die early long before they had grown or grow up too soon and find solace in a bottle in the money they spend or the pills that they swallow rest their head in a jail and live with the horrors within or in a mind whose fears make it no less a prison see them age with bitterness mean and saddled with sorrow go now son i got another grandchild’s funeral tomorrow

lucero

out west
the only sky is blue

listen: lucero - that much further west
buy: lucero records

"burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night"

if anyone calls, tell them it's a metal box in here.
stop by fttw on Mondays for shit from johnny.

3rd st

where i hid with you from the rain under a pine tree and the others, they all danced around in the sun’s last light and i swear i could read that whole story in the needles of the tree up above

when we slow danced in the headlights of a parked car down the road

how the air hung lazy around yellow street lights and crumbling redbrick buildings in summer nighttime sky, with the fog rolling in from rain two hours gone

baseball games on radio

fireflies and neon pizza signs

what the shadows looked like back around your grandma’s house, running from the old folks and the cars in the street settled down to a low hum and alls was left was whispers and your breath

what your dad said, that the millsmoke couldn’t be bad because it meant people were working and soon they’d file out of the plant like blood spilling when the shifts change

bikes trace slow circles

scratching pebbles in the cement

how your mom would be standing under a white porch light, hollering down the block and across avenues and around corners for you to come home

when your hand slid into mine without a word

where we sat on the table top of a splintered red park bench in July moonlight and i was trembling after the laughter and nothing was left except you and everything else we never said


i saw you across a crowded room a few weeks ago
you look rich now, guess you drive a big car

jamie t

i've been round this town for so long
she's been dancing since the first day

oh i'm plastered
can't damn help it
i'm sorry love

listen: jamie t - salvador
buy: jamie t records