Destroy Resurgens

destroy resurgens- terrible underhand- scout and surveillance- second in command- hands massage the throat- smog blanket comfort- stark parched landscape- a new paradise

destroy resurgens- the core expansive- prod human cattle- further and further- suffocation tactics- with spiritual guidance- the gods will haunt- the profit motive

god bless this human roadkill- pray for the negotiations- won't we mix blood and saccharine- when we fucking want to- slide knives across the table- carve documents with acid- splintered stakes in the ground- give rise to vampires!

erosion

we are worse and building upon the failures of those before us. for every movement forward there lies a reversal or a deconstruction. right next door or a million miles away. one positive equals two negatives completely unrelated but still connected. fragments and components woven together and related to the destruction of the picture in my mind. erosion is what i am thinking of. every day the embankment looks the same to untrained eyes. settling on unstable footing.

urban beaver

urban beavers were a big problem in the woodland hills area around the turn of the century. they would scurry across the street and cause accidents. they would turn over garbage cans and spread trash all over the ground. their dams caused flooding in low lying areas. on top of all that, cats were not safe if let outside as the beavers would kill and eat them. hunting beavers was no longer just for sport, it became a necessity of the time. this picture was taken outside my apartment off cheshire bridge road one evening after a kill. we skinned the beaver and carved up the meat and made roasted beaver stew. we also cured some of the leftover meat for beaver jerky. eventually the beavers moved downstream to friendlier territory and cats were once again able to roam free.

Featured Album

please check this out

http://homepage.mac.com/mrbob770/PhotoAlbum23.html

art of bob rob medina. my friend and old bandmate in chocolate kiss.

www.seldomwright.com

art and design of chris wright. my old childhood friend, former dick st. resident, and fellow lungfish fan.

capture the flag

who ever thinks that the end is right now. who ever thinks that the night's game was the last time you'd ever set foot in the neighborhood. i stepped foot into a strange kind of time machine. it shrunk me away from you it must have been a weird sensation. the nights were so perfect then. the street lights and their pale yellow shine. illuminating their brilliant bleak shadows. an explosion of voices speculating on the whereabouts and the strategies to breach them. speculating that this rock would knock some dude out of a tree. who was so into the moment it was his everything. lifetimes ago and beyond anything that i could ever fathom again. pages turn and then they burn you can't go back and read the instructions. control was something where the magnitude could not be fathomed. beyond was something that could not be imagined. yet there it was residing just around the proverbial corner. i got lost there my friend and i regret not getting back to you.

we lost a friend

we lost a great friend that day. i remember you gathering up her things in no certain order. trying to make brave through distraught moments. i remember shuddering hearing about the scene. gathering boxes and getting the yard in order. trying to look busy in a show of empathy or solidarity or however you want to think about it. i remember her at my house one night. playing with my cat putting tape on her paws. i remember a pro/con list and future plans. i remember being on the list of the last round of calls. not totally knowing why. but not being surprised when you called about what had happened. i'm sorry that i didn't always understand the dynamics. it's so easy to simplify things to your own meaning. you don't realize how things change and what your friends need. life marches on until it stops somewhere or with someone. it takes so much to take notice. i remember you shouldering so much of the weight of that moment. i don't think she would have wanted it that way. i've been in so many fucked up situations before. but i can't imagine being you during that time. i remember the funeral awkwardly surreal. like an act of appeasement and all of the politics surrounding it. i see you now and it makes me happy. that you still have a shred of your sanity left. i know how hard it is to keep it even with nothing going on. i don't think enough about her and you and those times of the past. it's so easy to be numb to things in life. it's like the last line of defense to things beyond your control. the sun shone so bright those few days. conflicted with the darkness that was cast. it hasn't shone that bright since. i know that it hasn't.

January 10

i'm pretty stoked about the sonn av krusher show jan 10. we are playing our 16 minute epic "i left my hear in san francisco bay" for first time since our debut performance a year and a half ago. i won't divulge too many details other than the fact that this should involve a guest on hand drums.

the show is at drunken unicorn saturday january 10. whores, subrig destroyer, and hell comes to town will also play. should be a nice time for all.

by the way, i got a trojan horse on my computer from the drunken unicorn website. i had to have my computer reimaged. it was a heavy price to pay for checking the listing of shows.

interesting book review

david t. lindsay

stomp and stammer december '08

morning meeting

we're watching the photographs burn. chemicals hissing from the fire. gone is the dream of functionality. the thought of it was comical. we layed out our plans like a blueprint. we mapped the route to our success. the outline read like the script to some epic motion. and now we're enshrined in failure. running for our lives and taking stock of the damage. licking wounds with a scalded tongue. trying to speak of some consolation. from a damaged collective unconscious. from white to black to dayglo blue. the journey has had its moments.

the new high

the new high is the subtraction of pain. little bottles melting flesh into sheets. lying on your side not wanting to move. burrowing under the peace of waiting. next day to turn over blinds revealing. scarce light to mundane isolation. hatching complete control of the universe. staring blankly ahead and slightly out of tune. rails against my knees a painful communion. yesterdays issue is my present comfort.

if you like daniel higgs, there is a new interview up on youtube. very cool stuff.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LvpW2RnophE

hidden partner

traveled with me throughout these years. silent companion waiting in the shadow. dragged out of the box when i need an expression. there like the crutch feeding off my limp. one can't move without the other. feeling the muscles in my legs tighten when i walk. like little anchors on my feet. a boiling over to jump out of my skin. the color within the shadows can be intoxicating. it can cause paralysis or it can induce sleep. gray and raining inside my head. a wall to stop the march of time. hidden companion that few will see.