Friday, September 30, 2011

ON BICYCLE GANGS


ON BICYCLE GANGS
by Sam Haddix

"Basically it’s just fuckin' -- who was the dominant -- like who controls the social space in Ann Arbor? It’s like the entire premise of Critical Mass is based on 'taking back the street' which is fucking bullshit because -- I don’t want to necessarily boil down Critical Mass but, especially in Ann Arbor, the majority of bike culture enthusiatsts are generally those people that have a huge voice in the social sphere, right?

"So really what Critical Mass ends up being is just like a reassertion of, uh, that power -- of that stance. Of like, a bunch of white males breaking street laws & screaming at people, wearing denim vests and really just being as visible as they possibly can be & having a huge adrenaline rush. I mean, you could get sexual with it but, uh, that’s totally what it is. Is that not true? It’s just some white kids looking for reaffirmation for white kids that they’re the shit.

"Those who would participate in an event like Critical Mass are already, um, sort of like their identity represents something that's like antithetical to what it’s supposed to be like. It’s like the entire art world. Like everyone should be seeing the art... people are creating art that... museums are no place for art to be. Because it’s already a safe place. It’s already condoned. People go to museums or more importantly the art show -- which are hip as fuck these days -- who are the people that are likely to be walking by & want to get drunk for free. Like that entire crowd self-replicates itself. Like the art that’s supposed to be challenging peple -- it’s already in an environment that’s supposed to be safe. You’re going to that environment expecting to be challenged but you feel safe."



"Well maybe it requires a new envisioning of the art world. I’m sure what I’m talking about has already been done and acted upon & what not but at that point the audience becomes like the enemy. Because you’re not, because these people -- because the audience becomes the very people your art hates. The justice you’re trying to enact is to those who arent able to come to the show. If you’re reasonably intelligent, your art in whatever reduced political sense should be repsonding to all of the products of pseudo-liberal capitalist society. Like consumers -- pure consumers -- that don’t create. That are interested in life but look for it in these weird reproductions of like...

"It’s not whiteness, it’s power. It's those that occupy pirvilege -- and what is privelage? It's like a social power, right? There's a whole field of study that's emerging right now that supposedly tackles ideas like why are black people supposedly louder than white people? Because they feel they have to occupy a larger space because white people control it. And because white people don’t have to forge a space for themselves, what you end up happening are these narcisssitc negative rituals that are really the reverse of the things they attempt to act out. Where you have these white kids 'taking back the streets' when in fact they’re reasserting their own power space.

"I noticed that there are a bunch of black longboarders in town. I mean, what's that all about? I think the most important thing is that you’re pursuing, like, you're just like being honest with yourself."

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

THE FINE ART OF PROCRASTINATION

This is a poem about you, son
endless mirror images
taken on a fucking Macbook

You staring you down
in endless mirrors of annoyance
your dumb face

O, the terror of anger at friends
"the long road down"
and the hot time before it

History was a drag
a Hallowe'en mask
whipping on a string

When being too busy was
being busy and not being
annoyed by one another

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

VAN HOUTEN

In the middle of a party, they pulled the scarecrow into the doctor's office and set it aflame. "That'll teach him for scaring away the birds -- the birds that bring us doctors, nurses and orderlies a certain special something with their song," said the doctor.

The nurse piped up: "I love the songs the birds used to make. I'd awaken in my farm bed to the KAW KAW of the grackle."

"Yeah, this scarecrow is a real dicksucker," said the orderly. "I haaaaaate him!!" He took a plastic fork and stabbed the effigy in the guts. All of a sudden, the room filled with light from a car out front.

"Oh my god! Did we leave someone at the strip club?!" said the nurse.

The doctor began counting. "No, all three of us are here."

"I'm scared," said the orderly. "And that Long Island Iced Tea is doing a number on my spaghetti house."

"Shut the eff up," said the doctor.

"Why say 'eff'?," said the orderly. "Is THE MAN gonna' get you for using a few blue words!?"

But what these assholes didn't realize was that it wasn't THE MAN they had to worry about. In fact, it wasn't men at all. It was four women. And good lord, don't call them 'gals.'

Perhaps you've heard of 'moxy.' Well, these women bought up all the stock. These women OWN moxy.

Perhaps you've heard of lace gloves. Well, these women have nothing to do with those. In fact, they gathered up all the lace gloves in the western hemisphere and threw them into a vat of acid.

Perhaps you've heard of corn dogs. Well, I'm sick of talking about corn dogs.

What you really ought to know about all this -- what you should really hear about -- is this gang, these women... they're called Van Houten. And they're right fuckin' here.

Thursday, August 04, 2011

I FELT (A POEM)

Well, I'll tell you what I DIDN'T feel:

I didn't feel chumpchanged by God
God didn't gyp me
I didn't been had by God
God didn't jew me out of every last nickel
I wasn't pantsed by God
God didn't laugh at my penis

It was a good morning!
I had a Dr. Pepper
and then a hot dog
from a friend!

Wednesday, July 06, 2011

GLOTARD, SLITWHISTLER, AND PICKLE-TITS

Perfukt Pup had a puking
license of which no
dangler could touch!

A hot item with a bracelet
of ribbons, tears,
beads of perspiration

A leper would wink and
its eyelid would fall
off

I heard a deep basement
scream from upstairs
I saw a whole slew of bare
feet of babes tramping
down a catwalk.

Deep creases of the face,
an animal shaved into
the back of your head.

The pin-up collection on
the front door and
the degenerate laughter

Peas in the shag, split
pleather chair and
you were wiping your eyes, little
baby

Sad, sad raccoon
eyes. The saddest I ever
saw, I think, just
for a second cuz I only
saw you for a second.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

MANHATTAN MANNEQUIN MAKEOUT MEETING

I came in the room and said, the whole gang is here! There are large windows with heavy cloth drapes. It reminded me of a funeral home but not in a morbid way. We were just smoking cigarettes in here. My man was wearing a turnip on his lapel. I said, what's that mean? He glared at me like a crook. He raised his hand, rubbing his index finger and thumb. If it had been his index finger AND his middle finger and thumb I would have thought one thing: MONEY. But I didn't know what this meant.

I've got a little mosquito, he said. Right here, he said. Do you know about The Bull and The Mosquito?

Thursday, June 16, 2011

PRIVATE WOOD or HAHA b/w SWEET SCOOP THAT

God dammit. I'm turning a distinct/peculiar shade of red with anger over a certain British band with floppy, dark, "mop-like" hair for driving their little clown car up to the music bus and kicking out all the good stuff: Satanic R&B and cheesy, anachronistic instrumental cuts with needly, wet-sounding guitar and sleazy basement musics. It doesn't take a psychologist to come down and break a bottle on the side of a ship to crown this a complete & total bummer.

At the time, it was as if everybody turned into a gaggle of weepy virgins instead of some kinda' creep that hangs out in a bar (re: basement) and says weird, vaguely veiled things to teenage girls. Ehh... maybe that's not such a great vibe. It was as if someone had replaced gin & coffee (together -- it's called a "Ray Charles") with a hot chocolate machine (::frowny face::). What's good about that? I'll tell you what: nothing!

Wednesday, June 01, 2011

OUT NOW: OLD JAMMERS

OUT NOW ON FM DUST:

SKATE LAWS - U.S. Post-Disco
C-25 cassette (edition of 48)
$6 US////$9 INTERNATIONAL
"The first released document of dude’s one-man skatecore assault, featuring classix like 'Asylumed By My Parents' and 'Clawing At Spiders.' Obvious reference points include early Flag, VOID, and maybe the first Suicidal Tendencies record, among any number of other suburban teenage mooks. Each package comes with a piece of grip tape, so get this thing now and try not to bust it when you’re listening to yr walkman on the half-pipe."