Friday, August 18, 2006

The way you laugh and the way I cover my ears.


So this is your Captain in the flesh. I promise you this... I will not subject you to this often, only once in a very blue moon.I wanted to start this off with a bit of recent events and also with a few of my poetic fecal matter. So it begins... Yet again.

I recently just saw Lagwagon again. God damn they put on one hell of a show. Pure fucking amazement! I am not a big fan of the pit, but for this show I threw my inhibitions to the wind and let myself be torn up to the energy in the music. I brought Ryne and Frank as well as my wife, Gina. It was Ryne and Franks first "real" punk show. Frank got crushed against the barrier to the stage and had
his glasses demolished, while I shoved Ryne in his first pit with me. We had an absolute blast. Tomorrow night is The Aquabats! I am bringing my 3 year old son Gabriel. And Saturday is our (Leaders of the future and myself) Teen Only Punk Show at Paradise Rec Center.
I am super psyched...

















And now for some recent shite...

An endless journey on a victimless night.

We are collected thoughts and fleeting memories.
Caught in flood traps after heavy storming.
Missed by nobody.
Little God sacrifices.
Mostly static noise on forgotten television sets.
Begging to be unplugged.
Lasting through the wars and coming out on top with a little trophy.
Humping it out in the photo finish.
We are the sweat dripping from the nose in a fevered sex sweat…
Or, raw nerves from staring down the barrel of a cocked gun.
We miss you and you should be getting our “thinking of you” card in
the mail soon.



4am and the street is empty and cool to the touch

The garbage sits by the curb.
Over-piled, and overflowing onto the early morning street.
The streets are empty and gives off an end of the world feeling.
Like everyone has just disappeared.
And you find a small comfort in that feeling.
Jacket is half zipped.
And while you wait for the bedroom light of the neighbor girl to turn on.
While you are waiting to turn on…
The atomics go off and burn a permanent good morning into the hearts
And souls of this sleepy little abandoned 4am street.



what the fuck was I thinking?

She sat me down and plowed through 15 family photo albums.
(her favorite picture is of a surprised grandma on the toilet taking a shit.)
She then took out the acoustic guitar and sang horrible standard pop songs.
After 45 grueling minutes she finally put the guitar down.
Asked me if I thought she was beautiful and started to cry…
“Fuck me.” I thought to myself “What the fuck is this shit?”
She cried about how un-pretty she claimed she was.
How her parents did not understand her.
How her ex-boyfriend had cheated on her
(couldn’t imagine why.)
And when I went to consolidate her she told me it was time to go,
and that I was moving too fast.
In all I wasn’t planning on “moving” at all.
She walked me to her door where her black lab began sniffing my crotch.
She smiled and said “Maybe you could come back tomorrow?”
I just smiled…… and ran from her house as fast as my legs would allow.

5 comments:

  1. YAY!!! John,

    You're on Blogger... So much easier than messin' around with that infernal myspace... I couldn't figure out how to invite you to be a friend... Is it cool if I add you to my links section ??? Oh, by the way, it's Tony, Tony Malo, from Chitown... Just wanted to stop by and say "Shello"...

    Later John,

    Tony

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  2. Awesome John!

    I'm not going to ask you if I can link to you, I'm just going to do it!

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  3. yay finally you join the blogger world, you must update :)


    remember mine :

    frankensteinspetelephant.blogspot.com

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  4. HA-HA Marls!!! I already beat you to it...

    MUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH *WHEW* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

    Tony

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  5. That last poem was HILARIOUS!

    So funny.

    ReplyDelete