Sunday, March 21, 2004

Placebo- Flesh Mechanic

He tries to embrace her
she wants him to race her
he needs a laser
to get it through her skull
means and lies and hatreds
tears that fall in sequence
cold caress
imprints
conversation growing dull

Says he's a poet
lousy protozoan
and he kisses ass for free
I took a vow of silence
when he tries to talk to me
I just turn on the tv

He tries to impress her, mentally undress her
it takes more to possess her
but in his pocket lies a hole
he's got a thousand talents
charisma by the bagful
aristocratic parents
a rebel with a heart of gold

Says he's a poet
this time he's gonna blow it
'cause he's dancing with his ego
I took a vow of silence
when he reads his work to me
I swallow words like a
placebo

He's strutting with your flesh mechanic
gets him in a panic
he's wasting time
'cause everybody is a star
in his eyes

Careful not to give your favours
to your lonesome fucked-up neighbours
I had one who sent me her heart
in a tupperware container
all the movies in my head
they flicker with my bleeding heart
a careless slipping of the tongue
on just another private part

Blatant search for
stoned affection
fights the rust that
breeds infection
meet me at the
intersection
don't forget your
fuel injection

He's strutting with your flesh mechanic
gets him in a panic
he's wasting time
'cause everybody is a star
in his eyes

You think this love is bona fide
you're being taken for a ride
wrap your lip around your head
and slowly blow yourself away
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Saturday, March 20, 2004

Placebo- Every Me, Every You

Sucker love is heaven sent.
You pucker up, our passion's spent.
My hearts a tart, your body's rent.
My body's broken, yours is bent.

Carve your name into my arm.
Instead of stressed, I lie here charmed.
Cuz there's nothing else to do,
Every me and every you.

Sucker love, a box I choose.
No other box I choose to use.
Another love I would abuse,
No circumstances could excuse.

In the shape of things to come.
Too much poison come undone.
Cuz there's nothing else to do,
Every me and every you.
Every me and every you,
Every Me...he

Sucker love is known to swing.
Prone to cling and waste these things.
Pucker up for heavens sake.
There's never been so much at stake.

I serve my head up on a plate.
It's only comfort, calling late.
Cuz there's nothing else to do,
Every me and every you.
Every me and every you,
Every Me...he

Every me and every you,
Every Me...he

Like the naked leads the blind.
I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind.
Sucker love I always find,
Someone to bruise and leave behind.

All alone in space and time.
There's nothing here but what here's mine.
Something borrowed, something blue.
Every me and every you.
Every me and every you,
Every Me...he

Every me and every you,
Every Me...he

Every me and every you,
Every Me...he

Every me and every you,
Every Me...he

Every me and every you,
Every Me...he.

Every me and every you,
Every Me...he.
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Oystermyer wants you, Charles.

Dear Charles,

My name is Mr. Oystermyer. I like oysters. Give me oysters, mothafucka. And don't you fuggetabout givinen up me some of them salmans. I like my salmans sear fried, and I like em with a lot of that white sauce that's especially good shit for the mind.

Charles, I was just looken over the internet last night and I stumbled ta yer site and I was all amazed and crap. It was like fucken comin upon a big bust of oysters ther in the sea and I just couldn't believe what I'd found. It was the motherfucken big shit.

I'm usually just out on the sea minden my own buisness--shit like that. But shit like that never works. I put my net in the wata and I wait fer them damned oysters to come in, cause you know I'm ostermyer afterall. But no, them damn oysters they right up fucken hate me I just don't git it at all. I tell myself, "Fuggetabout it, Osyter, ain't nothing bad," and so I just tell myself to carryon and it'll all be fine and shit. But shit never is fine.

I was in my cabin, ya see. I have a yacht, it's a very nice yacht. Perfect fer getten oysters if ya know what I mean.

It was rainen mighty fucken hard and so I went on inside ther in my cabin. I could hear the drizzlen rain comen down like a fucking whore's orgasm. It was all comen down like a fucken shit. I couldn'ta liked it if I was fucken Geoerge Bushe, hiden in the the fucken hairy bushes. Fucken-a, no I couldn'ta been. So ther I went in my cabin and it was fucken prime. I was fucken relaxen.

I have dis lapflop, it's a very expensive one and it's got a lot of porn on it. Ya see, I like my porn it's good shit for the mind, specially when you're bored. When I'm fucken bored I like to get hung like a fucken gallant horse with fucken four spreading legs and a fucken head like a fucken hard rock from the deepest reaches of the burnen earth hell. I put on my sattle, and shit, I just ride till the fucken day's end, cause I can't get no goddamned oysters. Osyters are the fucken dumbassest creatures I ever seen. Fucken shells and they never get in my net and shit. It's just ain't good.

So ther I was, lapflop open, an I was just looken at some porn. Good ol porn and it was good on the eyes. Suddenly I wasn't in no goddamned shitass cabin anymore, I was fucken lost and I was just jerken it off hard and long. I was like a fighterplane in some World War there was. I was a spyplane and I was fucken seein it all, an no one else knew. I could undress them on the laflop and they didn't know at all. An I could have them as mine and they was only mine.

Bout this time, I hear this loud noise flipperdonger from my computer. Says somethin bout crazy whale boy or sumthin. I had no fucken clue. Then suddenly there opened this internetsplorer window on my computer and I stopped jerken off and lookes at what I'm seein. It says somethin bout Charles. I thought to myself Charles was a nice name. I wondered what in fuck's sake was goen on and I checks it out.

Looks like dis was the site of some fucken whale boy is what I saw. I scrolled through them entries. There was one proclaiming the death of crazy whale boy, an there was this guy names Bitch who kept saying he wouldn't ever let that whale boy die.

I was pretty fucken sure poachers'd killed the fucken crazy whale boy. Must've been some mutantfreakfuckface an must've deserved to get the shit shot out a-him far as I'm concerned. I thought to myself this Bitch assbunch was some fucken animal rights tit and I said to myself I was probably right as hell. If I weren't jus sitten here jerken off I told myself I'd punch that fucka's lights out. But I told myself to just fergetaboutit. It warn't no problem and so I wasn't gonna worry bout some fuckerface animal rights slut. I was fucken glad dis crazy whale boy was gone and done in. Sounded like he desreved it like a fucken asseted woman needs to be fucked right away, soon as fucken possible. I'm sure ya agree with my Charles, I'm sure as fucken Jesus Christ was a fucken Jew.

I lef this stupid Bitch asshole's remarks and scroll on up. All the while I'm fucken hung high as a kite in the air stuck there and unable to do shit. But it felt so fucken good I couldn't just believe it.

Then there was dis post bout senden Charles some letter er somethin. I looks round more then suddenly there was nother loud noise. This one sounded like some lust cry driven out of nowheres. I jumped up in a fear, then there was this picture an I looks at it. It says dis here is Charles Laughlin and I look at it.

I see dis perfect man in every way an I just drool on myself. Oysters was the fucken last thing on my mind. Charles you're one fucken stoked mothafucka. I wants me a piece of that ass.

I ain't sure where you hung on sexen, but I know that I'm bisexuel. I like them both. I like the guy an I like the woman too. But when I looks at you on this image that appeared on my screen, I knew you was watchin me. You was searchin me out--you was tryin to turn dis Oystermyer to somethen better. Tryen to turn me inta yer lova since I can't get no oysters to give me my love an the big bucks. I just knew it and I couldn't help myself.

I jerked it off to your picture. It was the bestest jerken I ever done and I was just happy as a fucken smiley face that was yellow as piss and had that big grin cross its face. Then I clicks out of yer picture and I goes to yer site again.

I looks at the letter thing and I knew you was tryen to have me e-mail you. I knew I just had to do it and that my life was gonna be better cause of you. I was wonderin what I'd do with my yacht then. I promised I'd sell the fucken thing and get you a specal ring you can wear ta always remember me.

Charles I seen you live in New Jersey. That's where I lives to, and I live out on de river New Jersey. It's a nice river and I was wonderin if you'd come up here and we can go from there. I can get a nice dinner all set up fer us. I can get some nice candles and we can kiss beside the ocean, all lone if that's where we go and shit. I'd love that, fucken love it.

I ain't had a good life Charles. My dad he fucken killen himself when I was just a boy aged five years. I was fucken devestated then but I didn't know why. I was just wonderin where my daddy went an I have been ever since den.

I ain't the best looken man you ever seen but I got a good heart. I like oysters and I've made my life by catchen the little fuckers. An my heart's just fucken ready fer love and I can tell yer fucken heart's ready fer love too.

So heres I am. Typen dis fucken letter. It's two days since you been trynig to track me out. An I'm just ready to be in yet fucken arms.

So I was sayen I could come up in my little golf cart I got for a car and I could pick you up. I was wonderin what yer address is so we can get hooken up.

Charles yer always on my mind now an I can never ferget you. If you don't let me be yer man I think I'll just fucken drown myself in the ocean with them fucken oyster fuckefaces. I dun't know what I'll do without you. I ain't got the stomach to know and I don't ever want to leave yer side once we're side one nother.

What's yer answer? If it's fugetaboutit then I dun't know what to say. If that's yer answer I'm in deep shit an I gotta wonder where I went wrong.

Dis took a long time to type out you know. I fucken think it should be nough don't you? I'm thinken so.

Sincarley,

Vanley Dan Osystermyer

PS: I git you some oysters an give you sum when I pick you up.

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Hair of the Dog

Since my mom was gone, I went on her computer. She recently got cable.

Cable pisses me off. I'm sitting here with AOL and when I was up there on her computer, it's just annoying. It's annoying because I hate cable because I don't have it. Cable is so fast, and it doesn't cause a big huge program to stay open and take up needed RAM (AOL).

Some songs downloaded 100 KBS, which is insane. Compare that to the average speed of AOL dial-up--about 3 KBS, and I think I am going to kill something. In a good way.

I downloaded the entire soundtrack to The Last Samurai, as well as a whole entourage of other songs.

Red Hot Chilli Peppers, some Radiohead, Air, Rocket from the Crypt, Nine Inch Nails, Ramones, Tool, Nazareth, Lacuna Coil, Scarling, Rage Against the Machine, Modest Mouse, and that is about everything.

I feel like I ripped a lot of bands off terribly, basically. I need money, and to get a money a job is required.

I also found some .PDF files of Stephen King stories, which is also pretty insane. I now have the entire books of his Dark Tower Series in one .PDF file. It is only five books, the ones that have so far been released, but you get the idea. . .wow is that a lot of reading. And the .PDF file is only 9 megs, which is insane.

Also got The Shining (which I've read in the past), Bag of Bones (always wanted to read that), Insomnia, and The Tailsman.

I feel like I stole Stephen King's soul now, too.

Cable modems piss me off. All of you that have one, or even a faster connection--T1 or T3--I hate you and I never want to talk to you again. Losers, spoiled, prissy losers. That is what you all are.

I think you should be forced to use AOL once, whilst I use cable or better.

I also downloaded one episode of Family Guy, and I was trying to get some Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but I did not have the time, and the one episode I tried to get wouldn't go, it was remote.

Yeah. So I burned myself a disc with about 150 songs on it, an entire new slew of music for me to listen to. Yes!

I am thinking I should write something, but meh. I still need to get on that again, though. I in no way made my 2,000 word a day quota this week. All I did was write a poem about each day, give or take.

I feel so accomplished, though.

My Chemistry teacher is a homework nazi. He gave us about thirteen problems to do in the book, and a worksheet. But you see, the thirteen problems have a), b), and c), even d), even f), even e) parts to them. So, basically, each problem is about four problems long. And most of them weren't just quick, easy problems. Most were time-consuming annoyances from hell's cold bleeding bowels brandished to paper and forced into me.

I think I need an exorcism to get rid of the devil feelings in me from suffering through this strenuous work of doing my Chemistry homework. I also think I deserve a medal, a medal containing my name that is easy to read letters, made of pure platinum, and has some Latin phrase on it.

That assignment only took me about an hour and forty-five minutes, but I was working most of the time. I hate Chemistry teachers who are such nice people but such nazis when it comes to homework.

Really. I have a life here.

Well, not really.

Really, I really don't.

By the way, Air is a lot like Radiohead in some sense. I really like them. I'd give anyone a thumbs up to get some of them. It's worth it.

Well, I think I'll go burn some children now. Goodbye.
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Friday, March 19, 2004

Frei Macht Free

frei macht free
wall,
wall with bruises
strokes and caresses
hands lying by
blood red in
wall,
wall with the bruises,
strokes and caresses,
breathing and chokes.
bricks,
hands and
bricks.

smile child,
smile faces,
embraces,
smile child,
smile faces,
embraces,
tears won't come.
tears won't come.

feeling,
if you want some
feeling,
if you want some.

wall adorned
roses in hands
daffodills.
wall,
wall beaten
bruised and injured
welted lacerated
and incisioned.
wall,
wall cannot be passed
wall,
wall cannot be broken
wall cannot be broken beaten
into submission
cannot be bent to termination.

the wall
is me
wall is me
wall is me
is me
is me
is me

wall is me
is me

feeling,
feeling,
feeling.

broken down chemical
reactions inbalances
in the brain
and balances
in the brain
broken down chemical
reactions
head pounding
blood rushing.

beat against
the wall.
wall,
beat against
the wall.

head, beaten,
cracks open,
bleeds groping,
down the rush falls
rush of blood
to the head
head, beaten,
down the rush falls.

hands tight
wall's brick
beat it
prick.
wall's brick
tight
beat it
prick.

wall's brick
stone and pressure
pressure and time
eating blame
wall's me
wall's me
wall's me.
can't do.
won't do.
it won't do for me.

veins,
heart of wall,
veins heart of wall
broken highways
to their streets
the places
where they meet
veins,
heart of wall,
veins broken all.

smile child,
smile child,
smile.
so small
on the wall
beating bugger's
head on the side
of the brick
can see
it
prick.

head pounding
broken mesage
dying lesson
given pension.

i want me
back.
i want me
back.
i want me
back.

want me back
want me back,
i want me back.

wall,
stole,
thief,
stole everything
i had.
give it back.
give it back to me.
give it back.
wall,
stole,
theft,
i want me.
want me back.
give it back.

give back what you stole
what you stole what you
give back what you
what you stole what you
stole what you stole stole
stole what you stole
give back what you stole.

tasted wall
licked tongue
tasted on taste
buds the taste
of done
taste wall
licked tongue
tasted taste
of done.

of done
done.
of done.
done.
of done.

tasted of done.

dry,
wall
taste dry.
cannot ever try.
dry.
wall tasted try.

smile child,
smile.

smile.
smile for your hands,
bleed freely for their
work.
smile for the toil,
bleed freely for their
work.

frei macht free.
frei macht free.
frei macht free.

frei macht free
smile child.
frie macht free.
smile faces,
smile child,
smile faces,
embraces,
faces,
embraces,
faces.

embraces faces
to be
frei macht free.
arbeit macht frei.

for this
we breathe-

wall of
frei macht
free.
Comments (0) | Permalink

Karma Police

Well, I sure failed that Geometry test. . .

I was in a reserved mood when I took it. Extremely indifferent, extremely uncaring, not wanting to even concentrate. I couldn't concentrate.

I feel crushed.

What if I fail this class?

Then I get to take it next year!!

Hopefully with a different teacher that doesn't make it so you actually have to learn this crap that I could care less about.

One day, I'm gonna grow wings
a chemical reaction
hysterical but useless
hysterical and

Let down and hanging around
crushed like a bug on the ground.

Let's see. Test is 100 points. No. I don't think that's going to keep my grade at a D where it stands. D- maybe? Or maybe I actually did get it to a C and now it's going to work, going down to a D?

I don't even want to say anything. I can't even put what I feel like in words.

It feels like my heart has been ripped out, all the veins broken, the capillaries broken, the vena cava broken.

Karma police,
I've given all I can
it's not enough

I've given all I can
but we're still on the payroll.

I'll get through this, hopefully.

But, next tuesday is the Quarter Test in Geometry. . .but, we can use 4 notecards. Those notecards are about as helpful as nothing, the way Mr. Kosse does the tests. Doing the tests he gives us is like trying to decipher a complex language you've never heard nor know how it works, and being forced to do that.

Fitter, happier, more productive. . .

Stupid school always gets me in a bad mood.

Oh well. It is Friday. Things aren't as hard as they seem.
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Ut est mortuus

John Lennon- Working Class Hero
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me

---

I was feeling crushed and so I wrote a poem. I feel better now. Earlier I felt all tense and I felt everything blearing in me and my head was pounding.

I'm starting to wonder why I even say anything anymore. It doesn't matter in the end.

Keep yourself to yourself.

I should be focusing on school rather than anything else. School. School, of all things, school.

I want to be alive, but most of the time everything else gets in the way. Things in the way cause me to not be alive, but live a half-life that ends as soon as it begins, and repeats over and over again in endless hopeless tustles.

Ego sum nemo; ego sum nihil. Ego cogito igitur ego sum, et ego cogito nihil et ego sum nemo. Nemo--ego sum nemo. Nemo est meus.

Est scelestus. Omnes. Omnes est sclestus. Tu est scelestus. Deus est scelestus, si ibi habitat. Ego sum scelestus. Omnes est scelestus. Sunt mortui--sunt mortui.

Erat bonus. Erat non bonus. Erant bonus. Sed non eras bonus, et eras bonus.

Curro per. Curro in. Curro, sed ego sum nemo. Eo iam currere. Nolo currere. Nolo currere e omnia, sed sunt non omnia possum facere. Sunt non omnia possum facere. Sunt non omnia; non sunt.

Verbero tantum verberare.

Et ut est mortuus, ego sum hic.

Ego sum hic.

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Radiohead-Fitter Happier

Fitter, happier, more productive,
comfortable,
not drinking too much,
regular exercise at the gym
(3 days a week),
getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries,
at ease,
eating well
(no more microwave dinners and saturated fats),
a patient better driver,
a safer car
(baby smiling in back seat),
sleeping well
(no bad dreams),
no paranoia,
careful to all animals
(never washing spiders down the plughole),
keep in contact with old friends
(enjoy a drink now and then),
will frequently check credit at (moral) bank (hole in the wall),
favors for favors,
fond but not in love,
charity standing orders,
on Sundays ring road supermarket
(no killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants),
car wash
(also on Sundays),
no longer afraid of the dark or midday shadows
nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate,
nothing so childish - at a better pace,
slower and more calculated,
no chance of escape,
now self-employed,
concerned (but powerless),
an empowered and informed member of society
(pragmatism not idealism),
will not cry in public,
less chance of illness,
tires that grip in the wet
(shot of baby strapped in back seat),
a good memory,
still cries at a good film,
still kisses with saliva,
no longer empty and frantic like a cat tied to a stick,
that's driven into frozen winter shit
(the ability to laugh at weakness),
calm,
fitter,
healthier and more productive
a pig in a cage on antibiotics.

Sample looping in background: [This is the Panic Office, section nine-seventeen may have been hit. Activate the following procedure.]

Released:
June 1997
Found on:
OK Computer

Many people mistook the computerized voice on this track for that of physicist Stephen Hawking. The strange voice was, in fact, created by Thom on his Mac computer. He recorded it one night in an isolated area of the rehearsal space that the band had set up. Ed: "Thom basically had this checklist, like a nineties checklist if you like, and he had written it out. There is a bit of him playing piano, [which was] in the rehearsal room. He was very drunk one night, which you can tell by the sloppy playing on it, and he just played out this melody and stuff. He was very anxious that it wasn't him saying [the lyrics] - this voice is neutral. By the computer saying it, it doesn't becomed a bit of pretentious art-wank, it's something neutral in the way that the computer stumbles over words and doesn't get the pronunciation or the inflections right." Adds Thom: "The reason 'Fitter Happier' exists is 'cos of mental background noise. Some days you're in a disturbed state and it moves to the front." The track was used as an entrance song for the band on their 1997 tour.
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Thursday, March 18, 2004

Radiohead- Let Down

starting and then stopping,
taking off and landing,
the emptiest of feelings,
disappointed people, clinging on to bottles,
and when it comes it's so, so, disappointing.

Let down and hanging around,
crushed like a bug in the ground.
Let down and hanging around.

Shell smashed, juices flowing
wings twitch, legs are going,
don't get sentimental, it always ends up drivel.
One day, I'm gonna grow wings,
a chemical reaction,
hysterical and useless
hysterical and

let down and hanging around,
crushed like a bug in the ground.
Let down and hanging around.

Let down,
Let down,
Let down.

You know, you know where you are with,
you know where you are with,
floor collapsing, falling, bouncing back
and one day, I'm gonna grow wings,
a chemical reaction, [You know where you are,]
hysterical and useless [you know where you are,]
hysterical and [you know where you are,]

let down and hanging around,
crushed like a bug in the ground.
Let down and hanging around.

---

What a beautiful song. It's mellow and melancholy just like I like it. It sort of drivels on, and it's just beyond words.

Download it and listen to it. Now.

Released: June 1997
Found on: OK Computer
This track was recorded in the ballroom of actress Jane Seymour's mansion at 3 A.M. It closes with computerized sounds created by ZX Spectrum computers, which all the members of Radiohead owned in the 1970s. Jonny explains what it's all about: "It's like when Andy Warhol said he enjoyed being bored. It's about that feeling that you get when you're not in control of it - you just go past thousands of places and thousands of people and you're completely removed from it."

Thom : "I was pissed in a club, and I suddenly had the funniest thought I'd had for ages - what if all the people who were drinking were hanging from the bottles... if the bottles were hung from the ceiling with string, and the floor caved in, and the only thing that kept everyone up was the bottles? It's also about an enormous fear of being trapped."

---

Time to go fail a Chemistry quiz. Yes!


Comments (2) | Permalink

Let Down

Radiohead is such an amazing, amazing band.

Well, little time.

I just finished my story for Journalism. It's craptastically amazing. It's about 500 words of nothing. I interviewed my two sources but I am terrible at interviewing. I just do not care about the stories I do most of the time.

I did sort of care about this one in a sense, but not a big sense. I like Mack Wilz, one of the people I interviewed. He's a cool guy.

I did a story about three students who made a movie spoofing Friday the 13th. I have yet to see the movie and I hope Mack drops it off soon enough.

I was really close to missing school completely. I went to bed an hour earlier last night, and I slept well I had some dreams, and when I was dreaming another dream my alarm clock woke me up again and I quickly got out of bed, got ready for school, just threw on some clothes, and I was off. I have a Led Zeppelin shirt on, but it's covered by my Leather coat, which I have zipped up. My hair is messy, but I believe it looks fine.

8:16 is when I woke up. 8:24 is when school starts. I got there right at 8:24. I don't know if the teacher marked me absent or not.

It's pretty crazy. I am extremely horny today.

I sit here and look at the girls in my class, and that is about the only thing I can about.

That's what happens when I don't masturbate on a daily basis it appears. But I like it.

Well, time for Geometry.

I had such a good sleep last night.

And I'm sorry I left like that Sarah. I'm sure it was nothing to you, but my parents were kicking me offline, so yeah. My dad gets anal when I'm online for so long each day it seems.


Comments (3) | Permalink