an eye in flames
the bucking wind
the illest game
a lame pink Jag
the dancer's sterling silver teeth
the mark of a fake pagana crippled laser
Monday, December 21, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
TRUTH OR HAIR: THE LOSER'S GUIDE TO BACKSTABBIN'S
hanging with the black
babes in lucifer's tent:
I'm from the state
ICP made famous
babes in lucifer's tent:
anything can be
a surf board
a surf board
he says.
Hey
Hey
I'm from the state
ICP made famous
I know everything
is possible.
is possible.
Friday, December 18, 2009
FROM THE ARCHIVES: PARTY BOY'S DEPOSITION
We always got real drugged out in Ted's basement -- one trip rolling into the next until we were living a sticky & slow wood paneled alternate universe. Ted's mother, once a skinny teenager pregnant with the baby of a touring Sam Kinison, didn't know what to think of Ted. At age 11, he poured beer onto the ground & sniffed at it for hours. At 13, he set shit on fire behind the shed to prepare "in case we go to war." At 15, he started wetting down the front of his hair into a greasy swirl with the condensation from a chilled wine cooler.
Often, we found ourselves rolling on the shag of the basement carpet, my fingers wrapped tight around his 17-year-old neck, his hands wrestling & slapping against my arms. He didn't make a sound as I kneed him in the nuts, slapped his face hard on the right & went upstairs.
It was wrong for a mother be excited by her own son & his best friend wrestling. She was watching Days of Our Lives when I walked in.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
UNTITLED
UNTITLED
by B. Thomas Hunter
Ronnie had just dropped acid for the last time. Tomorrow he would take a job at the bank and his life would officially be over. Sitting in the back seat of his car in the Major Magic's parking lot, he
contemplated his existence and what he had accomplished in his 28 years on the planet. This thought was brief as soon as his blue jeans, once tight and form fitting, turned into a soaring eagle and left his body.
His jeans grew and grew until they covered him in a shadow filled with the screech of goblins and beasts man had yet to discover. Soon they melted away into a sea of rainbows.
Ronnie began to fly. Once heavy with his strapping 145 pound body, his legs were now free. Free to fly into the heavens, where he would play chess with Zeus. His arms soon turned into flippers, as was to be expected, and the air turned into water.
Ronnie awoke from his trip, dripping in sweat, covered in his own urine, ready to take a nap. Tomorrow he would take a job at the bank.
by B. Thomas Hunter
Ronnie had just dropped acid for the last time. Tomorrow he would take a job at the bank and his life would officially be over. Sitting in the back seat of his car in the Major Magic's parking lot, he
contemplated his existence and what he had accomplished in his 28 years on the planet. This thought was brief as soon as his blue jeans, once tight and form fitting, turned into a soaring eagle and left his body.
His jeans grew and grew until they covered him in a shadow filled with the screech of goblins and beasts man had yet to discover. Soon they melted away into a sea of rainbows.
Ronnie began to fly. Once heavy with his strapping 145 pound body, his legs were now free. Free to fly into the heavens, where he would play chess with Zeus. His arms soon turned into flippers, as was to be expected, and the air turned into water.
Ronnie awoke from his trip, dripping in sweat, covered in his own urine, ready to take a nap. Tomorrow he would take a job at the bank.
Friday, December 11, 2009
EDWARD & ALEX
EDWARD & ALEX
by B. Thomas Hunter
Van Halen came through this Dust Bowl town like the cyclone that destroyed half of Houston. I never saw such a sight. Spandex and young girls for as far as the eye could see. The reverberation from their amplifiers destroyed the top soil and damaged most of the downtown. Of course we'll rebuild, but the question is: After all we've seen, why would we want to?
Sunday, November 29, 2009
KISS
KISS
by B. Thomas Hunter
Peter Criss has traveled through time seeking the cure for the disease that has ravished his band mates. The pox on the band KISS was due to a run in with a voodoo priest on their tour of South America, and the cure was hidden far away at the dawn of time. As the cat-man traveled through time he pondered his own existence, and what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, his life after KISS.
“I could become a scientist,” he said aloud in the vortex that surrounded him, his face distorted by the wave of time that overcame his body. “Gene is always telling me that I’m really creative and I loved science as a kid... I bet I’d be a good scientist.” As Peter rambled on, he did not noticed that he had left the vortex. His feet were now firmly planted some where in the ancient past. But where?
“Computer -- run an analysis on this time period,” Peter said firmly into his wrist computer that also served as a virtual tour guide to the slipstream of time. This wasn’t a KISS invention; it actually had belonged to Blue Oyster Cult.
“Sir, the time period is…”
“Repeat that computer”
“Sir, the time is…”
“Computer, what time am I in?”
“Sir, the time analysis is incomplete. I don’t show you being in any recognizable time period.”
“Dammit,” Peter snapped back.
If he could not trace his whereabouts, then he didn’t know where to go to find the cure. He looked at the ground, there had to be a clue somewhere. In the distance he saw what he thought resembled a city.
by B. Thomas Hunter
Peter Criss has traveled through time seeking the cure for the disease that has ravished his band mates. The pox on the band KISS was due to a run in with a voodoo priest on their tour of South America, and the cure was hidden far away at the dawn of time. As the cat-man traveled through time he pondered his own existence, and what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, his life after KISS.
“I could become a scientist,” he said aloud in the vortex that surrounded him, his face distorted by the wave of time that overcame his body. “Gene is always telling me that I’m really creative and I loved science as a kid... I bet I’d be a good scientist.” As Peter rambled on, he did not noticed that he had left the vortex. His feet were now firmly planted some where in the ancient past. But where?
“Computer -- run an analysis on this time period,” Peter said firmly into his wrist computer that also served as a virtual tour guide to the slipstream of time. This wasn’t a KISS invention; it actually had belonged to Blue Oyster Cult.
“Sir, the time period is…”
“Repeat that computer”
“Sir, the time is…”
“Computer, what time am I in?”
“Sir, the time analysis is incomplete. I don’t show you being in any recognizable time period.”
“Dammit,” Peter snapped back.
If he could not trace his whereabouts, then he didn’t know where to go to find the cure. He looked at the ground, there had to be a clue somewhere. In the distance he saw what he thought resembled a city.
Friday, November 27, 2009
IRAG WAR MAKES WORLD MORE DANGEROUS
IRAG WAR MAKES WORLD MORE DANGEROUS
by B. Thomas Hunter
never make me go to rehab.
that would sux.
by B. Thomas Hunter
never make me go to rehab.
that would sux.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
I'M PUTTING OUT A HIT ON YOU
"Sometimes some fucked up fate shit aligns and the planets are fucked in some beautiful way and that's how people meet and hang out, etc."
"You'd think for all the cool shit, people & drugs the Stones did, they'd have made way more really good music. But they only had that one album*."
"This is like the Wii of folk-y crust punk."
*Their Satanic Majesties Request
"You'd think for all the cool shit, people & drugs the Stones did, they'd have made way more really good music. But they only had that one album*."
"This is like the Wii of folk-y crust punk."
*Their Satanic Majesties Request
Sunday, November 15, 2009
THE FUTURE or PERVERT'S DISPOSITION or THE COKE MINES OF FRANCE
1.
"Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to Man's Ruin. Please check your bad vibes with the clerk, have a drink, and don't forget to tip your server."
The doorman took our coats, leaving us in the anteroom with a man named Little Jelly. The club was warm, 80 or 90 degrees, befitting the red felt of the walls. We bowed to Little Jelly as he placed moodstones around our necks. Ezra, Peter, Micha & Ernesto's stones immediately turned deep green or a pale turquoise. As it often happens, mine turned deep red. Ernesto reached into his satchel and produced a blue gel to fit over the stone.
"Jesus Christ, Franco -- cover your stone before someone sees you. You know, you'll be lucky if someone doesn't check it during the night anyway."
The doorman returned and ran his fingertips across the edge of my lapel & pinched the fabric.
2.
"Oh shit," she said, "her show is on." I looked to the ceiling tile I imagined her mother was just above. Marcia was down to just her bra and skirt when her the pounding began. She shut off the boombox, gathered up her clothes, and I'd have "Paul Revere" and "Brass Monkey" stuck in my head all day. "We should get out of here."
My year was three articles of clothing away from being made.
3.
A $100 dollar bill peppered with cocaine arrived in the mail. The note: "I stood in the green-gray haze of the mold light & it was everywhere...!" It meant the harvest was good but we were over. When my boss heard, he tried to pimp me on any babe that came in. It was only when I burned the mood ring that I got off.
"Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to Man's Ruin. Please check your bad vibes with the clerk, have a drink, and don't forget to tip your server."
The doorman took our coats, leaving us in the anteroom with a man named Little Jelly. The club was warm, 80 or 90 degrees, befitting the red felt of the walls. We bowed to Little Jelly as he placed moodstones around our necks. Ezra, Peter, Micha & Ernesto's stones immediately turned deep green or a pale turquoise. As it often happens, mine turned deep red. Ernesto reached into his satchel and produced a blue gel to fit over the stone.
"Jesus Christ, Franco -- cover your stone before someone sees you. You know, you'll be lucky if someone doesn't check it during the night anyway."
The doorman returned and ran his fingertips across the edge of my lapel & pinched the fabric.
2.
"Oh shit," she said, "her show is on." I looked to the ceiling tile I imagined her mother was just above. Marcia was down to just her bra and skirt when her the pounding began. She shut off the boombox, gathered up her clothes, and I'd have "Paul Revere" and "Brass Monkey" stuck in my head all day. "We should get out of here."
My year was three articles of clothing away from being made.
3.
A $100 dollar bill peppered with cocaine arrived in the mail. The note: "I stood in the green-gray haze of the mold light & it was everywhere...!" It meant the harvest was good but we were over. When my boss heard, he tried to pimp me on any babe that came in. It was only when I burned the mood ring that I got off.
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