STARTED AS A ZINE, ENDED AS A DREAM

Dang -- I forgot to mention this pretty good article on Idolator: Touch And Gone: What It Means. When I wondered what could possibly follow the death of Lux Interior, I certianly wasn't expecting one of the greatest labels of all time! I can't even begin to explain the influence Touch & Go has had on me. Surreal.

SHOUTING BURGER MAN

Erin and I spent the morning contributing some voice work for the new Heavy Bleeding cartoon. Like any of the previous cartoons (The Transformer, Pink Maggie, etc.), it's pretty unreal. We worked on the second part of this gem:



It was a total blast and I kinda' wish I had an mp3 of the sounds to share. Anyway, I've been thinking about/inspired by both this and this of late so I'm putting together something called "L.A. 1992." Maybe I shouldn't say much else as this develops. The name could change anyway. Speaking of art, could these books be any better? Methinks not.

Also...

FROM THE ARCHIVES: SPACE IS NOT THE FUCKIN' A

We were floating through space. We were orbiting a large star (I can't remember which). Sampson and Frogurt decided to listen to hard rock and get wasted.

"Is that freedom rock?" Sampson asked. He let a big beer belch in zero gravity.

"No, dood, it's Thin Lizzy," said Frogurt. Sampson gave Frogurt a look. "It's a live album. It's good. I haven't heard Freedom Rock," said Frogurt. He was serious. Sampson gave Frogurt a look. I got bored hanging out with them so I went to my pod to read a book on snakes (Corn Snakes and Other Rat Snakes Book by Bartlett).

When I came back, Frogurt was in a different bay, passed out in a corner of the ceiling. Sampson was passed out and floating mid-room. Some food and liquid was floating near him; I think he barfed. Some of it was on the anti-spacial orbit device. He was burping. I found it gross. It made me wish I wasn't in space. At least not with these guys. But I would've felt stupid had I passed on the chance to go. I'm just sick of the doing the same shit every night.

BONDAGE RITES

Erection tie.
The pervert's disposition.
Nude in a place lower than the cloak.

We talked of taking microdot and watching the Oscars but went on tour instead. Without instruments to lug from date-to-date and no real music to speak of, our appetite for the dirt of dirt and sketchiness in all forms pushed us forward. Itinerary:

Hawaii: we paid a girl in wooden rubles to shake our hotel room into dust.
Chinatown (where??): the mayor's secret police dragged us from a peep booth by our chokers.
Helsinki: Annette took turns giving Shiva & I head in the clocktower.
Columbia: lost, we wore turbans to disguise our status as sexual diplomats.

At the rally, a telegram awaited us:
remember. you still have a mortgage to worry about.

CREATIVE IMPASSE

I started to write a story that went something like this:

Waiting on the Dark Lord.
Always so quiet and then it's like
"Whassup, Dark Lord!!"

Hm... don't really know where that could've gone. Only now do I realize just how Cthulhu it is AND THERE ARE POWERS APPARENT IN ALL CTHULHU TEXTS. Ehh....

Anyway, I'm much more inspired to write about the show Erin and I went to last night. Totally missed Child Bite which was a bummer but caught Mi Ami and Thank You. Holy smokes, after a good spell of not being amped about any new bands, I've got a major crush on those latter two. It's a relief too, I'll tell you what, when an existing band makes you wish you were back in a band as opposed to, say, an old Andre Williams single (although I suppose that's not a bad reference point for a new band). The jams were so direct, so natural in some way.

Been bad about blogging/writing lately and today will be no different. I actually don't know what the track below is save that it's an alternate version of the song I posted the other day. Enjoy!

MP3 FOREST JUZIUK - King Crab 3

HELLO, FORTUNE

The plan was simple. The speed trap near the woods.

The cop exited her vehicle and was speaking with the driver. Anna held a lighter one inch from the rag and waited. As soon as a break in traffic opened, Anna ran into the street, stopped in the turn lane and lobbed the molotov cocktail at the cruiser. A wave of flames wound around the driver's side and Anna ran back into the trees.

***

Simone watched her father throw $100 bill after $100 bill into the Blackjack dealer's hand. The father would not recoup, murdered in the parking lot after pissing into the casino's oil vat. "A low-life bleeding out his temple," she heard someone laugh. "Fingers all swollen like bruised bananas."

She would have better luck. Wracking up chips, winning on a horse named S.O.L., first place in the Hamburger Lottery, and eventually taking a church from a loan shark in a poker game.

MP3 FOREST JUZIUK - King Crab 1

RUBBER TITS & TROMBONE ACID: THREE WINNERS!

Born on a Satanic holiday, one was an ass-pinching doctor with a leopard-print tooth and the Maserati seat covers to match. Another, his twin, was a prankster in Hollywood, hired to spray "Bitch's Blood" in the eyes of guests. The brew left a scab on the face of a hotel heiress, which eventually developed into an impervious grey mole. The third, a prominent social critic said, "You are what you're sprayed with -- bitch!" He was later arrested for mercurial B.O. (a news anchor allegedly died after taking a huff on a dare). In prison, the critic was held down and farted on daily by cops and prisoners alike. "Do you know what we do to people with B.O.!?! Do you!?!?!" He later lead a prison riot to victory.

MP3 FOREST JUZIUK - Whipped Cream & Other Delights

FOR FUCK'S SAKE -- WHAT THE FUCK IS NEXT!?!

Holy smokes, world, it's not that I expected Eartha Kitt, Bettie Page, Ron Asheton, and Lux Interior to live forever, but c'mmmmon! An entire generation of influence is eroding and it is so bogue! How else can I describe it?

Flashback to 1992. My sister graduated from high school and skipped town in a disastrous attempt to make a life in Olympia, WA. She lived in a cabin without running water, sold pot to rednecks, and washed her hair in a homeless shelter. Back at our parents' house, I rummaged through her closet and found both a copy of an anti-school newspaper she helped assemble (The Purple Underground -- "the P.U." for short) and her cassette stash. The two most intriguing tapes were by Krokus and The Cramps. The P.U. inspired my first zine, Propaganda Trash, an anti-school newspaper (of sorts) which earned a 10-day suspension with possibility of expulsion for myself and two pals. Krokus (Alive & Screamin' maybe?) was discarded immediately. The Cramps, on the other hand, tore the roof off. I don't know if I'd heard rockabilly until that point but it spoke so deeply to my soul that I stayed up all night, playing that cassette over and over.

I don't listen to The Cramps so much now as the essential Born Bad series of compilations. Killer cuts through and through and most definitely some of the best, and strangest, songs I've ever heard. They call it pedigree, and Lux and Ivy surely had and have it.

PLAYING TAG IN THE AUTO GRAVEYARD

Hello, my baby! So, that Mi Ami show I've been talking about for a while is nigh! The talented Shelley Salant did the poster and is playing in Tyvek that night. Can't wait.

This Thursday is going to be a ballbuster: DJing from 5-8 at Cafe Zola, then from 9-midnight at Eve, then 12am-2am at Elks. Whoa nelly! I'm gonna' try not to repeat too many jams but this'll probably break the bank. On top of all that, Mike and I will be showing/selling some artwork at Elks along with Shades who's also hanging at Zola. Since we don't really have any hangable pieces ready, we're doing a mad dash to get something going. This may yield a zine or some large posters or both. Will let you know.

I know I linked to the man a couple days ago, but this story by my friend Bobby Wells is hilarious. Also hilarious: any page in the book Rumblefish by S.E. Hinton. Open at random and find gold!!

MP3 FOREST JUZIUK - Rumblefish (S.E. Hinton)

PEOPLE TALK, BABY, BUT FUCK IT -- THIS IS OUR FUCKING WORLD AND WE JUST LET THESE OTHER ASSHOLES HANG OUT

At a party Raj and I DJed last night, Mike and I somehow convinced a woman who owned something like 10 or 11 sports cars(!?!) that "Porsche" is the french word for "womb." She was intrigued and said she'd look it up. This was very shortly after claiming that the reason people always end up hanging in kitchens during parties is because the kitchen reminds them of home and their mothers so it's like kitchen = womb. Credit where credit's due: Bobby Wells has the best womb jokes in town. Or, he did.

MP3 FOREST JUZIUK - Overnighted