Friday, April 30, 2010

Street Fighting Man

Street's alive, man.

The other day, MC Li'l Chop was talking to me about something. I could not understand what he was saying. He was talking about these bad people that weren't really people. He was calling them "Some Beasts".

Eventually, I figured it out.

Close your eyes and say "Some Beasts" really fast. Do this about 6 times while thinking of something that is undead.

Right, you got it. He was talking about "zombies." And what five year old doesn't talk about zombies, right?

I feel like I am a zombie. I am too scared to die and too dang frustrated, tired, scared, etc. to live.

Because we are broke, the notorious little MC and I have to give up our apartment. We going to crash at Cabo's for a little while until we can figure everything out.

Chop-Chop.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

You Can't Always Get What You Want

So, we've been using this space to talk about everything but our chosen professional career, transcontinental superstars. This is mostly due to the fact that we can't accomplish anything lately.

We competed in the annual RPM Challenge and we have a new CD worth of music that is ready for public consumption. The problem with getting this release into your hands, however, is simply one of a monetary nature. Simply put, we are penniless.

The previously mentioned RPM Challenge album is only one half of a planned collection. Sadly (at least to us), we don't have any money to book a studio to record part II.

Additionally, we have an idea for a "live" album. Unfortunately, we have no gigs booked. No gigs means two things... no "live" album and no income.

Furthermore, we've been toying with the idea of a spoken word version of our literary masterwork, Poe Eight Tree. But, again, we are pretty much destitute. Actually, we are only a step away from becoming two of Hollywood's "lost boys" (I don't even want to explain what that means).

Speaking of our erudite conquests, we are working on two new collections. The first being an anthology of short stories and the second would be another awesome aggregate of our poetry. But, alas, we are broke.

So, that's where we at. Thank you for your continued support.

Keepin' It Real (Poverty-style),

Cabo Joe

All Together Now

Believe it or not, I spend quite a lot of time just thinking. Yes, I wonder. I want to imagine (as John Lennon requested), but I can't really "imagine."

One day, I hope to be able to postulate... but I'm not there yet. It is a long road from where I am to imagination. I believe that imagination is wasted on the young. They misuse it as a way to pass time. They destroy it by finding reason and reality. Yes, the youth are not correct caretakers for imagination.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Welcome To The Jungle

Dear Cabo Joe and Chop-Chop,

Welcome to Friendster! Here's a list of things to help you get started...

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

You Probably Think This Song Is About You... Don't You?

The water is unusually low at the lake today. As I lay on my belly on the splintery wood, I can see the were the dock pylons touch the slimy green mud. The last rays of sunlight dance across my reflection as it barely ripples on the surface of the water. I can hear a faint voice screaming in the distance. It is either the sound of agony or ecstasy. In either case, it is not a sound for me.

I did not engage this purveyor of horrible moans. I am not their friend. I am not their enemy. I am simply their nothing.

A small tadpole swims in the water.

Don't Give Me No Satisfaction

Simply the most relaxing thing in the world is being emotionally vacant. There are beasts in the mind. These beasts are hungry. When I wake, I can feel their hot steamy, breath scratching my neck. I am sore and weak, intellectually.

It's a wonderful day for a cerebral vacation. The rental cars are high priced, but the drinks are reasonable... and cold. A vapid happiness.

With the hatred of thousand chilled suns, I am asked to leave my tranquil get-away. There are things to be done. And only I can do them. Destiny is now... and a bitch.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

The Wings Of A Dove

55. 56. 58. 59. 60. 63.

I can't count. I can't care. I can't doubt. I don't dare.

The slippery, slimy warmth of freshly baked bread become the breath of lady morning as she slaps on the back of the head and yells, "Get the heck up!"

I need to paint the walls. They are soiled with vomit and urine. The walls have a texture similar to that of burnt toast with grape jelly dripping over its edges. With the sly wit of a feral street cat, I pick my team for today's mental game of four square. My heart is the big red ball and painted outline of four squares represents my potential fates.

The roar of a fertile lion is the furnace as it falls from grace and fulfills its destiny. The room is filled with the tranquil exhaust of a day fraught with denial.

My dentist will never know my name.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Where Do We Go Now?

That tiny little blue ball. The watery globe which is the third from the Sun's sight. It is beautiful. It is home.

Welcome to Earth. A new Earth. A different Earth.

Due to a catastrophic event of nature and man, the Earth now appears to have a large orange area similar the storms of Jupiter. On the surface of the Earth, however, it is anything but a storm. This giant orange cloud has become one of the great wonders of the world. People travel to see its magnificent colors. Scientists hypothesize that it could actually reduce global warming and possibly fill the hole in the ozone layer.

The "Great Cloud", as it has come to be known, is always there. Always watching us. Always protecting us like a baby’s blanket. It is comfort. It is love. Brand new religions have been organized to worship it.

But, good does not last. Finally, the cloud has decided to drip its first drops of precipitation. The sprinkle is caustic and deadly. A single drop can sever as limb. Trees fall in the molten rain. Birds plummet to the ground. Communications is disrupted as wires on telephone lines melt. Soon tall sky scrapers begin to collapse.

We think about driving south. We remove the sliding glass door from the back of the house. We believe that the double-paned glass will protect us. We contemplate trying it to the roof of the car so that we can drive away from here.

Sadly, the freeways are jammed and garage is now on fire.

Not too far away there is a freeway overpass. It is of solid cement construction and should be able to provide enough shelter to protect us.

We grab the earthquake survival bag, a fire extinguisher and as much food and water as we can carry. We put on our thickest soled boots and three layers of clothing. We head out.

We make it. We encourage cars to block the access to the underpass.

We will ride out the storm here. Or we will perish.