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Beardo Wierdo

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[19 Mar 2006|03:16pm]
At The Moment…..
My favorite Poet is Dylan Thomas.
My Favorite band Is the MC5.
My favorite Movie is Rock and Rule.
frank zappa

[29 Sep 2005|04:56pm]
[ mood | enthralled ]

I got the job at target.

LyricsCollapse )

4 loves frank zappa

[09 Sep 2005|07:32pm]
My Life seems to be slowly getting better. the band will soon have a place to practice for a ridiculously low price, I got a Job interview with Target this Wednesday (thanks to Caz, No doubt. the system is bieng cleared, btw) and i'm feel creatively rejuvinated again. things with Kato have been great. I'm honestly loving here more every day. she read me this poem she wrote yesterday and it was one of the best things she's ever written, truly captivating. uhh since theres not much more to write at the moment I'm going to leave off with a short story Fragment I've been working on and a list of cds/records I'm currently spinning (under a cut)

Rock and Roll pussyCollapse )
frank zappa

i found this fascinating. [03 Jul 2005|05:31pm]
Stars not only shine with light, but they are known to sing......indeed, the very soul of the universe is musical! Trees have also been noted to sing - there are many reports of audible hums coming from certain kinds of trees. If you disturb an object in any way, you will start a vibrational process in that object, and it will start vibrating at it's own unique natural frequency. The natural frequency of any object is known as its resonance. If this frequency or resonance is within the range of human hearing, you will hear a sound being emitted, such as when guitar string is plucked. If the frequency is out of range, you will be oblivious to the sound, even though there is indeed sound being produced.
frank zappa

College,Cars, MUSIC, and growing up. [17 Jun 2005|03:01pm]
[ mood | contemplative ]

It's been awhile since I've wrote about anything significant, mostly due to a bad case of writers block and a crippling inertia. I feel as though i've reached the end of the line in this current phase of life: East Boston, my family, the vicious cycle I see everyone (self included)stuck within. I wanna move out on my own but haven't a steady job, I wanna car but only have 300 dollars toward one (and no license) I wanna make films again and I wanna put another band together. I've been playing Clarinet and studying music notation, I'm starting college in september (if the financial aid ever goes through) I feel these are all good things, products of my growth as a human bieng, but at the same time it's not enough. I want more than this. I wanna be a music journalist in Greenwich village, I wanna sing my songs with only my acoustic guitar to accompany me at some dive in Detroit, I wanna make the film I've had in my head for years, I wanna PUT A GODDAMMNN BAND TOGETHER! I mean the band ain't broken up (more like on haitus) BUT STILL!!!

I dunno. i feel as if things are going too slow. and at that same time, too fast.

I looked into the mirror today, and I didn't recognize the person I saw.
he wasn't the long-haired fifteen year old thrash metal/ slasher movie fan.
he wasn't the blue haired pot smoking surrealist poet.
he wasn't the jazz lover, the literature junkie, the film geek.
he was this nineteen year old goateed thing that seemed uncomfortable in his surroundings, like a prisoner in his own skin.

am I the only one that's thinking: were the hell did they go?
i mean those kids were me, but I'm not them, so they are gone.
i'll never see them again.
it gives those movies, those stories and poems, those band and solo recordings all the more resonance.

sometimes I fear i'm missing out on life, by reflecting too much on the past.

it's just that I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong.

frank zappa

[16 Jun 2005|08:38pm]
For Albert Ayler

He screams out the silent with his poverty thunder,
Fighting back against not taking it withholding his gifts
For the newer brighter days ahead.
He forges,
Torches light the downward spinning stairwell,
He collapses on each and every step,
He stops for breath,
And lets the great shrieking cry of the realized desire take shape,
in it’s haphazard shapelessness he sees true form.

Let your tongue roll out the fire shrills of poetry potent with an array of stringed diamonds, Celestial wisdoms, and simple folk themes that you explode into a billion rattling jagged pieces and reinstate into a jigsaw puzzle bound by the tears of angels, spirits, holy ghosts, and godly glue.

Let your body rest eternal, wise and remarkable one,
Let your sonic children send out the truest chill to the night.
The chill of music.

Lou Toad

frank zappa

[11 Mar 2005|09:33pm]
Can I really say I'm the same person I was a year ago? I guess i'm not, but is that for better or worse? all my closest friends have become (like me) so called pot heads. we haven't moved onto harder drugs, like all straight edgers think potheads eventually do, but the ubiquity of weed in our 'inner circle' is beginning to trouble me. I mean, we get high, we put on music, we eat. although I still play my guitar all the time (as well as piano and clarinet) and even though anthony got a new bass and is progressing drastically (not to mention taking a college music course) the band is stagnant. I have no band. I recently quit my job, and while I don't regret the decison, it's caused me to fall into a kind of malaise. i haven't left the house in days. all anthony ray or dave wanna do is smoke grass. (Hell, I like to smoke grass too, but I like it for the way it enhances Music and such, not as some kind of sedative.)

I've been writing a lot, but what's it matter? again, my friends are all comatose, none of them write. at least when I hung with chris and rob there was someone I could converse artistically with, work on Movie projects, discuss and compare our writing or music, it was a lot more FUN.

I dunno. maybe i'm just drifting away into my own parade...
frank zappa

I stole this from Caz's Journal..... [02 Mar 2005|07:04pm]
You scored as The Beast. Your alter ego is The Beast! But that is only a name... you are kind hearted and sweet, people just misunderstand you.

The Beast


Peter Pan



1 love frank zappa

[02 Mar 2005|07:00pm]
you know I love you. I really, really love you.
frank zappa

[28 Feb 2005|04:52pm]
I wanna start a Online Literary Journal.
2 loves frank zappa

[27 Feb 2005|09:29pm]
Music and Poetry attracts me, drags me in, holds my interest, intercepts all barriers, surrounds my senses, all that you can or will call writing or music is first and foremost a vision. I have discovered what some poet’s and Musician’s before me have discovered; to create, not to represent or stand in place of or as a Metaphor or allegory, but a vision. Something all on it’s own. Not made, but created. Not used to represent or denounce or glorify, but simply to be. Art is it’s own world. Creation comes unformed from some nameless other. it is my life’s desire, my life’s work, my life’s sentence, to communicate with this other.
frank zappa

[21 Jan 2005|05:29pm]
You scored as Musical/Rhythmic. You are sensitive to sounds in your environment, enjoy music and prefer listening to music when you study or read. You learn best through melody and music. People like you include singers, conductors, composers, and others who appreciate the various elements of music.
















The Rogers Indicator of Multiple Intelligences
created with QuizFarm.com
7 loves frank zappa

[12 Jan 2005|05:21pm]
I was just reading chris' journal and it got me to thinking about ceratin things. how things change, how you grow, how you distance yourself and how you fall into little groups, how you sort of feed off that group like a flower budding on a grove, how everything is just constantly shifting.

I owe a lot to Chris Zenga. it was chris who intially taught me to play guitar, and he was the first to ever hear my lyrics (or songs).

at first I thought our musical and personal split was his fault, and then I tried to attribute it to my immaturity (I was, after all, only 14.)but then some special individual with a mind far more open than mine made me realize that it was all my fault, 100 percent, and my age was no excuse.

I mean I should have just been having fun with my best friend in our Heavy Metal band, not playing egotistical power games and behaving like a dictator-dickhead.

I was the same way with Jon in minion, and looking back I completley understand why he quit.

I have been thinking, and I want to make some new recordings. write some new songs.
and want my old friend, my old collaborator, Chris Zenga, to help me in the process.
6 loves frank zappa

[28 Dec 2004|10:15pm]
An Unending out of tune symphony

In love begin love end love destroy love the home painted with absolute darkness; never ever light it is so much like a dream nay a nightmare may creep in and walk towards some wandering door, shifting boards that make it more difficult to walk but not so much more just a small fraction of what it could be what it was what it seemed it could be what it is. No more rain says the beggar he has only one eye and he cannot walk, even speaking hurts his frozen-burn tongue. It holds out much longer for a small boy a smart boy oh growing! Oh slow moving shifts of pattern or lantern situation or bird call directing us there as we can never find it ourselves

The phoenix cries for it all to stop as the burning cannot go on.

Needlessly breathlessly the sun blocking my sight interfering in my eyes incalculable in it’s infinity. The great sacred moment that CAN LAST FOR MORE AND MORE DAYS but how long before? How much can we really say for assured very and well assured?

The blood flows as icy rivers once did.

Conversation rapes ethereal picturesque moments nights with the air of transcendence leap out of frogs eyes and into a stormy sore-tipped description and then befall with so much depression and horrible unthinkable prolonged sadness, distilled fear and no hope for anymore.

Great rhythmic rivets of sound.
The upward esteemed enlightenment can shoulder the weight that a giant cannot.
That giants possible depressive oppressive operatic thing they call life is too much of a time-consumer.
The story is like pendulum volume, is like truncated omnipresence.

Move over move ahead shout to nothing in particular painting a picture that no one may see, preparing a costume that no one may wear, they say it’s less than. Than the than the thin the than the thin the than the thin the ornamental octaves like shining orbs bright and alight with all the worlds plenty, staccato vibrato bravado the normal the sub par, the scars. The what’s the use of abusing the ecosystem news, new. I knew the truth would begin to bleed.
I knew all along that mind supersedes, that mine can climb and reach those foggy notions atop the archetypal atypical mountain that is both voluptuous and terrifying, prettifying and trying to descend, when will this madness end?

The north star lent it’s immortal light to the thread-bare wanderer for a moment only. His movement caused enormous distraction and supposed temporary enragement from the gods, who were thrust onto thrones by the dialects of some insane being, a dignitary for the four only known richest cataclysmic yonder, the sum total of the words that fucked up and sat down and sang themselves a lullaby, with there heads hung down on the sinks edge, with the universe crumbling and creating inside and all about him.

It’s wings spread as it lets out it’s war cry.

It never dies it only bleeds for one more day for one less sunken treasure that is wedged out of wood-pattern head trips and slung in a diamond-tipped rose encumbered porcelain thought process through noon into darker midnights and many fights and a new kind of day.
frank zappa

[21 Dec 2004|11:25am]
new writing/new paintingCollapse )
frank zappa

[19 Dec 2004|07:52am]
something I wrote/something I drewCollapse )
frank zappa

[18 Dec 2004|05:03pm]
Feeling lousy on a late Sunday, Trying to pawn broken watches

Of course I recognize the resurgence of the beautiful in life.

It’s wonder is like a laurelled head among returning clouds,

Clouds that last forever, clouds that blithe us inside warmth and happy glow,

That they try to sell but can never own.

My watchers watches no longer tell,

The time that these men felt inclined to sell,

There broken watches croak and cackle,

With blood and cum and snot and spackle.

Could you please refrain from voicing disdain?

Could you hold out longer, could you execute pain?

Wherever loneliest is where I will stir,

In stirrings so complicated so stricken with hurt.

With fever, please don’t deceive her,

Give her every kind of music there is.

Any form that’s known, let her own.

On her own.

Alone as in END we all are.
frank zappa

[28 Nov 2004|03:34pm]
[ mood | crazy ]

ok I got the black sabbath box set yesterday. i forgot how much I loved Volume 4 (well, all the albums, but most especially volume 4) i love music. it's my security blanket. I 'm like linus. i love kaity kato. yes.... (something I wrote ->) Sleepwalker (lock her)

We open with desolation. it’s hopeless the landscape is gutted out. Sirens scream, faceless forms run past our field of vision. we see only what we want. We discard all that is unpleasing or unsatisfying to our cognition. Our arteries are clogged. They stop and start and move and groan and flip out of a daze dance days on fire with the hell-cast strike match it enflames the cloud the past the shadow person a shadow of a person a version of perversion, a curling a unfurling a yearning a sadness a glad trip a luckless child thrown into this world not ever ready the old reflection in the photograph is dead. That scared boy is dead. I have replaced him, I can never face him I can’t tell him what I know.

What does he know?

Keep that fortunate gift below. Never let anyone see what beats and breathes under that coat. remote and in dreams your writing is only for you it seems how many will ever need it? Will they understand will they care will it impact will it entrance? I see Your back into asking questions.

A kaleidoscopic eyesight. A mind that is either so vast that I cannot penetrate or so simply shallow that nothing is there to see.

Kill the safe men. Claim them as casualties. Stolen cable for all. It’s like this it starts riots it keeps quiet. It’s no reason to fall away like me stay. Stay were you play that sordid game the one mistaken for living. The one you have been giving, bullshit all along.
Sorta like this song. It rings it’s tone is lengthy but not long, releases the rhythm of the soul, captures the sound of the honoree on her knees, the clasped shut door she always breathes, the somnambulist catastrophe she always needs, the plucked poor plea she sometimes heeds.

Delectable disease. A snoring snotty droplet calligraphy. Somewhere the bold still bleed, baroque croakers lye in the pit of ease, modernist urgings keep it away from me, the all is lost in front of a foam, to new artistic vistas I’ll always roam.

Clocked in and set to lone. To loan a payment of mastery over magic a kind of lifeless existence, a incredulous insistence, a brick wall resistance.

Nomadic instinct, fallen druggy and washed in pink, gray stocked in million’s rows, the truck is towed it’s made to hold. So cry on, amazing and reckless day, your teachings are splendid I am in debt to your ways.

your eyes. my god those eyes, i stare i fall into those eyes.

1 love frank zappa

[26 Nov 2004|05:36pm]
Adrian is muttering incoherently. she is in a state of half-sleep. i'm listening to the captian, thinking of my future, and talking to the katie cats. hmmmmm well what can I type?

Last rites for last night in a stupid fight the love wanders it returns low and behold the clay in it's mold the statuesque liberty malaise that hangs forever for days, it prays, parakeets keep there seats for there masters habits and aggravations.

love is found in the tips of flowers.
in the drag of a jont, in the loneliest of hours.
frank zappa

[20 Nov 2004|02:10am]
this is what my life has become.
1 love frank zappa

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