Saturday, May 29, 2010

The Fucking Bike Club Kicks My Butt - or - Poopin' In A Washing Machine

Here are some photos. I don't really remember these events. Somehow I got a Ft. Lauderdale visor out of it. Holy crap, I'm an idiot. Enjoy.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

You Didn't Ask But Imma Tellin' Ya Anyways - or - See Here, Here's How I See It

This is what I think.

When people talk to me, hear me blather on and on about, well, just about anything, and then tell me I am weird, I am flattered and charmed. It’s like a pick-up line to me.

Here’s how I see the world.

Accomplishments are, in my opinion, best in large quantities of small doses. I like accomplishing many little things through out a day; getting outside and running around on the grass by the lake on a beautiful sunny day, getting all my dishes cleaned and put back into the cupboards after cooking myself a good sit down meal, finding a new place to bike too, searching for the oldest head stone in a cemetery, sitting and playing 80's metal tunes on my ukulele and making people smile as they walk by, or putting on a brand new pair of socks. Things like that complete my days, and I find myself trying to fill my days with life's simple accomplishments. Happiness is elusive when you search for it, like looking straight at the stars only to find them disappear as your focus lands right at them. It is easier to see and recognize happiness when you are not staring straight at it, but rather when you catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of your eye. I don't look for happiness anymore, by that I don’t mean that I’ve given up on trying to find happiness, I only mean that I don't search for it directly. I don’t ask myself, “What will make me happiest right now?” I just laugh when I feel it is time to laugh and bitch and swear when it is time to bitch and swear. Sometimes, swearing up a storm of curse words that would make my parents disown me is exactly what my endorphin glands need to get kick started back into making me smile again. That's probably why I've been threatening to punch all my friends in the dick. Dick punch threats are hilarious.

Someone once said to me, “Only dead fish go with the flow.” I believe them to this day. Someone else said to me, “You seem to look good in women’s sunglasses,” to which I replied, “I know. Weird, hu? Good thing I’ve never tried on women’s underwear. I just don’t think I could restrain myself if they made my butt look good.”

And as far as love is concerned…

Love wreaks havoc of the placid waters of my mind and turns them into a boiling torrent. It is wonderful and exciting and exhilarating to be in love, until the undertow grabs hold of your ankles and drags you, kicking and panic stricken, to the murky and lonely bottom. Of course I never learn my lessons and as soon as I can pry myself free and kick to the surface for a fresh gasp of air, I suddenly find myself swimming with reckless abandon away from the safety of the shore and straight towards a thunderhead in the middle of the ocean. I guess my fear of drowning isn’t convincing enough to keep me in the shallow end. I just wish I had some floaties.

This is me in another life...

And now I want to see this movie. Someone rent it and bring it to me.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Dig On This One - or - Stuck In A Groove

Stuck in a Groove / Phonovideo from Clemens Kogler on Vimeo.

"Phonovideo is a VJ tool or visual instrument used to display animations in an analog way without the help of a computer. “Stuck in a Groove” is the first film made with this technique, it serves also as a demo for the technique .
In the future phonovideo should be used for live performances in cooperations with musicians, performancers and other artists.
The music for “Stuck in a Groove” was created by Richard Eigner/ Ritornell.

Sunday, May 09, 2010

Inner Face Punched - or - What Else Would I Write About At 4:52am Besides The Thing That Is Keeping Me Awake Against My Will

Every morning for the past two weeks it is the same. Every morning at 4 am or so, I wake up. I wake up and wonder who has been punching me in the face all night. The bone underneath my left eye is swollen and tender, it aches to the touch and I can feel my heart beating in my bloodshot eye. If feels like my something is building up pressure behind my eye, trying to eject it out of my skull from inside my head. I push on my eye with my palm and it throbs behind my eyelids. My left temple feels like a railroad spike is slowly piercing it; a rusty, oily, dull and crocked railroad spike, being driven in by a ball pin hammer. I can feel my teeth ache all the way through my jaw line and up past my cheekbones. It hurts to open my mouth, it hurts to close it, it hurts to yawn, it hurts to sleep. What kind of inconsiderate asshole has broken into my apartment in the middle of the night and started walloping me in the face? When I blow my nose, streaks of blood are mixed in with the fibrous brown junk that has invaded my sinuses. I am suddenly totally awake, absolutely wide-awake, eyes open, face aching, in complete pain, and miserable. I am sick. I have a nasty sinus infection that isn’t going away. It’s been a few weeks, some days are fine, some are torture. By this point, I know that no one has broken into my apartment and punched me repeatedly about the face, and by this point, I know how to get back to sleep. I grab two towels and stumble towards my shower. I leave the lights off while I crank the hot water knob. It needs to be hot, almost too hot, and I need to stand directly under the showerhead and let it pour over my head, 360˚, like a scorching deluge, blanketing my entire head. I will stand like this, in the dark for about a half an hour. The sludge in my head will start to break up and I’ll drag it out of my face in a fit of snorts and coughs and sounds that I remember hearing my grandfather making from behind the closed bathroom door of my childhood. I remember hating those sounds. As a reward for my efforts, I get mouthfuls of brown and red chunks. I have a face full of gross and it won’t let me get rid of it without it proving that it’s taste, texture, color, and viscosity is gag worthy. I lean my head out the shower and spit mouthful after mouthful of awful into the newly lined trashcan next to the tub, just like I did last night. There is no way that I was going to spit this out into the shower drain and run the risk of this blob refusing to squeeze through the drain holes and just sit by my toes. I’d rather change the garbage bag again tomorrow, er, I mean later today, just like I did yesterday. The pain slowly subsides underneath my blanket of hot water. My temple, my eye socket, my cheekbone, my teeth, they all calm down and I turn off the water. I wrap myself up in my two towels; one around my waist, one over my shoulders. I slowly return to bed, mostly soaking wet. I take a chug off the NyQuil bottle sitting on my desk, next to my alarm clock. I’ve stopped using the measuring cup days ago. “That tastes like sleep,” I murmur to myself as I slid back into bed after tossing my towels onto a large pile of their comrades that has taken over half of my couch. Maybe I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow. Nope, got no insurance, and I’ve dealt with sinus infections just fine in the past. It’ll brake and I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll just write about it instead.

Tuesday, May 04, 2010

Any Kinda Mustache Promo Is Good Promo - or - Amazing Band Poster In Need Of A Band

This poster was drafted up by Chicago's Sons Of Susan a day after a show I played with them. I assure you that if these three mustaches ever meet again, the world will treble at the bass our feet.