Sunday, January 23, 2005

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I'm metamorphasizing before your very eyes. Everything is shifting in my mind, and settling. Sifting. I'm seeing strata in the sandstone. Strata? Stratus? Strati? Who cares goddammit, I'm changing. This very website is in jeopardy--I may let it rot! My car, 319 Joe, may finally rest I think... I want to serve humanity/this dying Earth. Yes, that and only that. I've worn myself sick trying to SUCCEED in this miserable economy. . .this miserable, ruthless, undignified, life-sucking, murderous, horrible, thankless economy. I have gotten nowhere for fourteen years. Yes I tour, I record, I produce, I manufacture, I sell, I showcase, I get fanmail, I get romance, I get signed. But all for what?! My brain is afire with new ideas all the time, too. I'm a walking, breaking-down American Folk Frankenstein. Frank Folkenstein. My wood, my hinges, my aluminum cooling system, my oil cannister heart, my plastic knee caps are all coming unscrewed and unglued, and they're cracking off! My hooks are stuck on trees and rocks. They're useless. They're hookless. I don't make sense anymore. My metaphors are poking me in the rectum. Linear things are splitting, curling, breaking, bulging, melting, fucking, sucking, stripping, tripping, shitting, dripping slippery mucousy stuff, licking their wounds, and dying. All around me. All the time. It's preposterous! It's marvelous! It's what life should be like. I'm lucky to be here. Thanks for listening. Goodbye now.

P.s. I'm in Underwood, MN with my friends Katie, Ron, and Hazen. No, I'm not on drugs. Yes, I brought my sled. It was a good idea, too, 'cause a lot of snow dumped all across Minnesota. My pockets are filled with snow. Actually, that's a lie--the snow has melted into water, and the water has almost evaporated. Tomorrow I play Minneapolis. Maybe I, too, will evaporate.

P.p.s. Thanks to Katie for the inspiration tonight.


Paul said...

I am sitting here wandering, a happenchance visitor

My cousin is Blandow C and i was checking out the best of the bald caps, i hit their site and it sounds as if you are famous (renound well known, apparently unique)

anyway i don't know shit about hip hop but I love music period and I am going to have to check out more of your stuff. I posted this comment because your defragmentation consciousness was insightful. I defragment all the time:

weaving and wandering
a super slalom course in fog
as if my breath came out
like its morning soul
with sleepies
whether a fog comes from the put put putting along
towards creaking doors
or its thickness is choked breath
this dream in death is my walk
it takes me home

Slippery black stains on
split stitches gooey gel
and the worn waffles hark
hark please pull me over
ask me what I wonder


split twig wet sand sun
breath deep and full friend is
lie in dirt like clear blue blanket
face when buckets hold mass
we return a vacuum for
deaf again because our hearts are

Chris Sand said...

Blandow C. is my man! It's nice to meet his cousin. Where do you live Paul? I'll be touring soon--I'll keep you in the loop. I like your defragmentation skillz...