Cold Pleasant Rain

I stepped outside this morning to find a storm approaching in the sky, unfortunately it did nothing to daunt the humidity; thus, I opted to leave my sweater where it hanged. I ate breakfast, brushed my teeth, and promised to whatever being listens when you promise to no one that I would do my best to not make my assistants cry or make life looking down the barrel of a tank cannon bliss compared to working with me. At least the sun would be taking a break today.

Of course, what should happen the instant I set foot outside for work? The northern wind blasts heavy doses of itself through the city, and the humidity is soon less than a memory; it may have never even existed. Nipples everywhere cowered at this brisk norhthern force. Then, after the wind followed the rain.

Normally, I don't like the rain and cold mixing together as it makes the roads more dangerous as people cannot even drive well when the days are clear and the streets are dry, but throw in muggy frost and you've got yourself a full day's entertainment over on Brianson's overpass.

Even now it continues to rain, and the cold proved to harsh for even I to continue working outside, which did help me get through a chapter I was having difficulty structuring, but I think the context of the work and the content of the weather kickstarted my brain. Now, I'm inside with some coffee, the hint of cigarettes (an odor I still adore, though I myself do not smoke), and the clicking of a keyboards mingling with the tapping of chilled raindrops over the building; its roof and windows. The colors are never as bright as just after a colde pleasant rain.

A Julian Sands sighting! Something about Robin Hood & Sherrif Sands' porking of Merrian being regulated to a "Director's Cut" dvd.

A Thanksgiving Walk

After thirty minutes, the family was done with one another. The gray sheep of the blacks decided not to show because the charcoal sheep was plaguing accusations of theft, deception, and other scoundrel-like qualities towards the gray one. I myself sat back and enjoyed the meal, and after two chews of turkey, I recall why I loathe the moody, dim-witted bird.

I left after dessert; vanilly ice cream, because I don't trust the words "potato" and "pie" in the same sentence nor the same dish. As I walked home, I saw the prostitutes beginning to occupy their typical territories. I wondered what they were thankful for. I'm sure one was thankful for her coat, which she draped over her left arm, but the chill was diming as the cold drew nearer, which the meant the bitch slaps, beatings, and knife-cuts would sting much worse the longer they were forced to work. The blemishes and blood would be darker as their blood's pigmentation reacted to the temperature-dipping weather.

Be thankful to breathe another breath, I wished upon them. Then, I looked for a truck to throw myself in front of, with no such luck. The streets were empty save for the lost souls wandering about on this very block.

My home was warm, my clothes were dry, and my bottles were empty, and I knew the name of every death on the street where those prostitues huddled together for warmth; for survival.

Sports Evolved

MMA had become the norm for the streets, except when you have the triangle choke fixed tightly on your opponent, you also expect his friend to be coming around to kick you in the face.

After a the neuro-wipeout decade, most of the fighting styles blended together; only the spiritually on-line could decode the movements, placing them with their origins.

What the new fighters had forgotten was what I embraced. We both honored discipline, but only I still embraced the will to kill. It wasn't about a victory, it was always about survival to me. I never stopped pounding until they stopped moving. I never broke a hold until I heard a broken bone.

The suits still made their money ever since they got in league with the police, having surveillance cameras placed on every street corner, with alerts and Ante Wormholes opening to accept all bets on any streetfight that broke out, or any riot that lasted longer than ten minutes. Vegas appreciated it since the NFL became sad and predictable when the salary cap was lifted. Some people called it the Yankee virus.

Embracing the Public

Sometimes I wonder if musicians against downloading walk about in public, passing strangers, humoring fans; wanting to beat the watery shit out of some of them.

"Oye, I'm a big fan. Have been for years; I love all you're stuff."

- "Izzat a fact. What was the last album you bought."

"Haven't dropped coin since you're debut, what - six years ago...."

...and just thrash the motherfucker!"It was ten years, you thieving, fuckless bastard! Drop some coin if the album's at least good enough you walking herpes machine!"

I can't believe that grannies orgasming to Motorhead is the only recollection I have of Nevada.

Insomnia hit full throttle last night. Knocked out research, a few pages of stories; continued designing my next tattoo. No sleep tonight either; work to do.

Fire Dancing

There were days when my brother and I played music, and there were days when we simply pounded strung cat fur and bashed dead cow skin. Then, when the fire erupted, spreading throughout the fields, harvesting the ashened essence of a scorched earth while embracing the freshness of a new one, we realised exactly what kind of power we had and what kind of sacrificial destiny we were doomed to fulfill.

Moon Praises.

Enjoyed this one quite a bit. I don't come across too many films involving Sam Rockwell, but he is good and takes risks. He did an excellent job as he was the only human being in the flick.

I warn, the quotes on the dvd cover are a wee bit overly generous in their conotations, but it is a great movie.

Damning Geriatrics

I feel it's liklier in a small town to hear someone in their home yelling after an ambulance blazes by, "Damnit, I bet you there's a fucking nursing home down there somewhere."

- heh heh heh.