SLEEP WELL.

“just take a fucking good look at just what you did
you set a raging fire in the heart of a kid
your words, and the message you sent
are held in my heart as they burn inside my head
it burns, burning inside my head”



Have Heart - Something More Than Ink
The most relevant song in my head recently, for more than one reason.
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“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”

Jack Kerouac
My absolute idol (aside from the whole alcoholism…)

‘On The Road’from which I think (if memory serves me correct) this quote is taken fromserves as an absolute epoch of 50’s beat literature and should be compulsory reading for everyone.

I’m excited for my future
friends,
i think it’s about time we became something.
It’s about time that passion manifested itself in something external.



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The madness has grown
My energy has increased
I bubble and fizz and explode from myself
with a roaring laughter i hold my fists up to a sky which i don’t understand
and scream with all the passion that holds deep its anchor in my stomach
that I know the secret
I have been taught it
I have read it
Life can be understood only as an “aesthetic phenomenon” (as Nietzsche says)
the whole view of the every day hangs as but a mimetic painting before our cautious eyes, we live fed on scraps in the depths of Platos cave
painting the shadows we see onto the wall in charcoal.
Dionysus, that great hero of wine and freedom
stands in the shadow knowing the true meaning
the forgetfulness of the individual and dissipation into eternity and the whole
he clasps in his hands
as we, the blind ‘tragic’ ants scurry beneath his feet
assigning meanings, judgments and values just to feel complete with our own egos.
we are sleeping giants dreaming our lifes games in black and white.
we need crushing.
we need that annihilation,
we need awakening
at the moment we are hostages.

It makes so much sense to me now
now that I have learnt
it is a tired cliche to say, but the veil is cast aside
the light of the sun is shining through
blinding with glorious effulgence
I am born anew under these two opposing Greek signs
how one is a stepping stone to the other

Henry Rollins & Henry Miller have made me fall in love with everything
I am in love with everything
I find pleasure in everything
I love that more than any other part of my personality at this present time
the naive, the ugly, the annoying, the lazy, the broken, the incomplete, the irrelevant
everythings personality is as tremendous as a new dawn.
I lay giddy in the gutters, studying the dirt.

The madness has increased
I have written 15 pages in 7 days and it doesnt look like its stopping.

the search has begun.
today I understood that i must seek out meaning physically
I must not just contemplate on how it can be found.

Eros, if I close my eyes will you guide me through?attach yourself to me as you did Mother Earthyou’re all I need.you’re all I see

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“The Outsiders (A.K.A. Hell Is For Heroes Part I)

So what the fuck are you going to do, kid?
Still ratting at the chains of the gates of the world…
But you can’t quite pretend.

Still tasting youth’s bitter exile here in your empty generation’s wasteland…
Where all the things that you’ve been clingingto are being ripped from your hands.

Restless soul this place will never be your home.
And if you wanna have it all…
You’ve gotta let it all go.
Before the adult world strings you up and skins your skinny bones clean to the bone.
‘Cause all this time you’ve been searchin’ for something real
And now the pressure is coming down on you.

You’ve gotta turn this despair inside out and turn it into your way out.

‘Cause heaven knows you’re sinking and I know we’re much the same…
So cheers to our rebel hearts…
Not just another fuck you…
But a bedside love song for a chosen few.
We feel like we’ve been left in the wind to die in the dust…
With no one speaking to us…
So we are speaking up.
Throwing out our anchor against the fear.
Your revelation time is near.
So try and listen to the voice urging you on…
Saying…
This is it kid…
This is your last chance…
And this is the only way to glory…
And this is our last dance.”


Modern Life Is War - Witness (2005)

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I’m infected, and it’s long since the chance of redemption reared it’s ugly head.
I will die as a martyr
exploding in colorful disarray amongst the other kids who have fought to find their home amongst the crowd.

The shovels always hit concrete
The pickaxes always snapped
and i’m too full of splinters to carry on.

As the flood waters rise I still hold the promise of a cause aloftit shines too bright to be forgotten
still faded from all the false starts

Destination: Death or better days
a choir full of rats
thieves
and petty slaves.


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ANOTHER MORNING
AND I AM THROWN HALF-CONSCIOUS UNTO THE BREACH!

unto the still mass of Humanity whos heartbeat pulsates beneath the veil.
whos perception hides the undercurrent
whos reason covers the abyss
whos everyday spreads thinly across the Ice! (just well enough for it not to break and have us all plunge into that cackling madness that comes with recognition!)

My moralism a weak front to retain order in a perfectly absurd existence.
An attachment to my exterior
A coloured lego shield clipped to a copycat plastic knight.

A garment for the safety of the populace!

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On the way to Hull to stay with Josh for however long. Henry Miller has sent me half-crazy, all full of life and half-breaths. The world on the speeding trains, the miles flickering by in urgency, everything passes and I with it. The rain clouds teetering on the edge of downpour laying heavy above us all, greater than the riches of all the world contained in a raindrop.

THE ROAR OF IT
DEFEANING

A cacophony, every sound an orchestra, disharmonic and strange yet beautiful and full, wonderous landscapes of noise.
To be in transit forever, always moving, that wanderers urge; feeling all Kerouac and finger snapping across the desert, yearning for the Earths bosom to cradle me, for that underneath it all current, that pervading background soundwave, the hymn of infinity ringing in my soul,vibrating my bones dragging me helplessly towards finding my home.




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BLARGH.

Former Black Flag / Rollins Band frontman and all around most-badass-person-ever Henry Rollins with his Spoken Word performance from Dublin Ireland in January of this year.

telling tales of his world travels, his views on censorship
and other thought provoking & breathtaking-in-there-hilarity encounters.

It’s so fucking inspirational to see that even at his age when most people are attempting to battle mid-life crisis’ by growing out their remaining hair and buying motorbikes he still looks at the world with such a fervent curiosity and passion

the energy in his speech is completely infectious and endearing
if only we all viewed the world with this much energy and excitement.

fuck yea this dude is awesome.

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stolen gracefully from http://sourdoughblog.blogspot.com/


note to self:
stop reading so many Books and actually draw something





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WE NEED TO FEEL LIKE THE WORDS ARE REAL



I sang along to every single word of every single song when I saw Killing The Dream 2 years ago
All because of the Girl i’d attached to their songs
And after the last note of the last song
I ran into the Toilet and violently threw up all the water i’d drunk throughout their set to keep me alive
After that I ran back out and hugged the singer Eli whilst telling him in all too-exasperated speech how long i’d been waiting to see them.



In those moments I rid myself of her and I can honestly say a paragraph of my life came to a close.
The same thing happened with Blacklisted later that year in Hull.


I barely listen to Killing The Dream or Blacklisted these days
I found my closure and my release
my meanings were justified.


p.s
this photo still renders me speechless


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AND YOU BETTER NOT FUCKING FORGET IT.



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An excerpt from Henry Miller’s Tropic of Capricorn [1938]

…Again the dance hall, the money rhythm, the love that comes over the radio, the impersonal, wingless touch of the crowd. A despair that reaches down to the very soles of the boots, an ennui, a desperation. In the midst of the highest mechanical perfection to dance without joy, to be so desperately alone, to be almost inhuman because you are human. If there were life on the moon what more nearly perfect, joyless evidence of it could there be than this? If to travel away from the sun is to reach the chill idiocy of the moon, then we have arrived at our goal and life is but the cold, lunar incandescence of the sun. This is the dance of ice-cold life in the hollow of an atom, and the more we dance the colder it gets.

So we dance, to an ice-cold frenzied rhythm, to short waves and long waves, a dance on the inside of the cup of nothingness, each centimeter of lust running to dollars and cents. We taxi from one perfect female to another seeking the vulnerable defect, but they are flawless and impermeable in their impeccable lunar consistency. This is the icy white maidenhead of love’s logic, the web of the ebbed tide, the fringe of absolute vacuity. And on this fringe of the virginal logic of perfection I am dancing the soul dance of white desperation, the last white man pulling the trigger on the last emotion, the gorilla of despair beating his breast with immaculate gloved paws. I am the gorilla who feels his wings growing, a giddy gorilla in the center of a satin-like emptiness; the night too grows like an electrical plant, shooting white-hot buds into velvet black space. I am the black space of the night in which the buds break with anguish, a starfish swimming on the frozen dew of the moon. I am the germ of a new insanity, a freak dressed in intelligible language, a sob that is buried like a splinter in the quick of the soul. I am dancing the very sane and lovely dance of the nostalgic gorilla. These are my brothers and sisters who are insane and unangelic. We are dancing in the hollow of the cup of nothingness.
We are of one flesh, but separated like stars.






I’m currently reading this
it brings on that kind of life-affirming madness that keeps me painfully awake at night.
But is impossible to put down.

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Just got these dudes 7” and a lovely t-shirt through the post recently
so here’s their 2008 Demo for your listening devices pleasure.

ffo; Right Brigade, Carry On, Righteous Jams, Boston Hardcore

GET IT HERE
MYSPACE
BUY 7”



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du·al·ism

1. The condition of being double; duality.
2. Philosophy The view that the world consists of or is explicable as two fundamental entities, such as mind and matter.


We must remove and abstract our mind from body.
Stand abreast in the most dualistic of ways
gaze upon our body as literal physical chemistry in motion
keep in mind that it can rot like everything else.
whereas the mind is something more, a deeper essence
but trapped as a puppetier is to his puppets.
and co-dependant on each other
but still with a yearning source for that transcendent unity with pervades and is all things.
keep the body fresh and the mind will stay so.



buds of thought.



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The Ghost Inside “Unspoken” Official Video

THE GHOST INSIDE [RETURNERS 3 DAYS!] | MySpace Music Videos

Metallic Hardcore with a Day To Remember / Deez Nuts / BMTH feel to it.
lots of Drop Dead vests
Pool Parties
Inflatables
minimal amounts of Girls in Bikinis = Brofestacular.
and somewhere wearing a Jane Doe t-shirt backwards

s’all good
aside from the ruining of a Jane Doe t-shirt




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“Dionysus is the ancient Greek god of wine, wine cups, wineskin, grapes, and fertility. The god who inspires ritual madness, joyful worship, and ecstasy, carnivals, celebration and a major figure of Greek mythology.

He was also known as the Liberator (Eleutherios), freeing one from one’s normal self, by madness, ecstasy or wine.[3] The divine mission of Dionysus was to mingle the music of the aulos and to bring an end to care and worry.[4] Scholars have discussed Dionysus’ relationship to the “cult of the souls” and his ability to preside over communication between the living and the dead. “


“He revealed to mankind the art of wine-making. He desired people to drink and to make merry. He urged them to love. It was that people might love that Dionysos died and came back to life. For the sadness of his going was only to make fuller the joy of his return. Then, all worry and strain were to be wiped away and life was to be one great goblet of wine in which men were to revel, merrily singing away.”

From Dionysus’ Wikipedia page & http://www.sacred-texts.com/sex/tsf/tsf10.htm

Through Dionysian intoxication to that parental unity which resides in and above us all.
The Apollonian urge for restraint and that ‘know thyself’ mantra vs. the mad Dionysian letting go and supposed connection to a greater whole.

Still trying to find the balance.



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