blur.

as usual, my weekend was a blur. some people have been telling me that they are concerned about my drinking and they are worried about me. well then gimme a reason not to. first of all, how can it be a problem if the solution is in your hand? and second of all, you won't have to worry about me when i'm dead, so just stick it out a little while. ok peaches? thanks.

anyways, friday night we attended the lovely dingbatz to hear the triumphant sounds of voice or no voice, along with turn it up, flat earth society, maximum penalty and vision. i grabbed a couple flicks of voice or no voice:







i also got a couple of some gang vocals during vision:





cousin ryan showed up late, but we partied anyway:



i got even more annihilated at dingo's den after the show. emily drove me home and i walked into my apartment which had turned into some impromptu dance party complete with teriyaki wings.

















saturday night, there was too much going on. division east show with mcrad at halligans. starlight hip-hop show in lyndhurst. i wanted to at least stop at one of them before jersey city, but i hopped in the whip mad early with jannson and tank. we scooped up shanthrax and swizz and hit up 660 grand by like 10. i finished a pint of southern comfort in about 20 minutes and someone kept handing me a bottle of jack daniels and then some other shit. jager. jim beam. both. i don't even fucking remember. then i took some bong rips in e-rocks room. all i know is that i got so fucked up that i didn't wanna climb that rickety ass wooden staircase to the top floor.

i went in the back room for a few minutes where the ramp was, but that shit was hella crowded and small, so i went back and basically chilled in the art gallery the whole time. at one point i think i stood against the wall for like 30 or 40 minutes eavesdropping on hipster conversations and softly chuckling to myself. i probably looked like a real creep. hopefully. jannson bounced and i grabbed a ride home with addie and christina d. i managed to get one picture. it wasn't in the art show. it wasn't anyone at the art show. it wasn't anyone skating the ramp. it was some random thing that i saw on the street along the way to christina's car:



and that's all she wrote folks. let's play again real soon.

local.

if you grew up in clifton, chances are you know at least one of the puleo brothers. personally, i know them all. a great group of dudes. closest to my age is daniel, who is one funny motherfucker. he is also a talented artist. i've seen a ton of his shit, and it's all good. he has a good vision to take nothing and make it into something dope, and he's been at it for years. anyways, danny boy just put up a website to showcase some of his pieces. here are a few of the pieces on the site:







check out the rest at: www.danpuleo.com

if you like something, drop him an email and buy a piece for your house or apartment. support local artists. support the underground. word up.

from the hips.

i recently got my hands on the new cursive album. it's called mama i'm swollen. i've been listening to these dudes for a long time, and this album is very true to form. i can't even talk enough about this album. it's so fucking good. i have been listening to it for days on end. over and over again. musically, its very tight. some upbeat stuff. some real depressing slow shit. typical cursive. they have a new bass player and drummer on this album, and i'm definitely impressed.

lyrically, it's pretty fucking mind-blowing. basically the whole album is dealing with people struggling in their progression to 'adulthood' and living the peter pan syndrome, which i can totally relate to because i'm basically a 31 year old kid. i wouldn't know how to 'grow up' even if i wanted to. i mean seriously. there's a line in one of the songs that says 'i've spent the best years of my life waiting on the best years of my life'. are you fucking kidding me? sweet god kill me now. such a simple statement, but the story of my life to a tee. and the whole album is on that tip. actually, i think if i continue to listen to it on a regular basis, i might drive my car off a bridge. well probably not. but you know what i mean.

peep the lyrics of the first single. from the hips. you can download it for free here, courtesy of their website.

*****************

I'm at my best when I'm at my worst
I'm at my worst when it's not rehearsed
I don't want to know the goddamn words
I don't want to have to spell it out
Don't want to mumble what I'm trying to say
I want to scream it from my foaming mouth
Shoot out the lights and ride away

I'm in my worst when I'm at my best
I'm at my best when I'm trying to look
and think and talk and sing and read and write
Like all the rest
We're all just trying to play our roles
In a play that runs ad nauseum
I hate this damn enlightenment
We were better off as animals
Right!

We're at our best when it's from our hips
From our hips we don't give a shit
It just feels good, and that's no sin
It's the only way to feel alive
The closest thing to being born again
And when baby comes, it's job well done
Roll in the hay
Or roll around the sun

We're at our worst when it's from our lips
From our lips we caused a rift
And this world is falling in
From Babel to barroom brawls
Our words have formed a death sentence
And I wish that we had never talked
Our hips said it all

And I wish that we had never talked
Our hips said it all

flicks.

dust.

sorry honey
the train has stopped
and i'm fed up
your bullshit is stacked up to my throat
and it's choking the life out of me
this isn't my station
but i'm getting off here
walk the rest of the way barefoot
it'd be more pleasurable than another second with you
back on the trail
fighting the wolves who put me here
they forced my way with menacing teeth
hiding behind warm smiles and soft flirtation
deceptions of perception in twilight hours
i sit and devise plans
as you nestle in your comfort
daydream schemes
while you cower in unconscious screams
leave you in my dust
choke on the fumes
focus on my tiny silhouette getting smaller in the distance
suck wind and run hopelessly at the finish
you were passed a thousand times
trade diamonds for gravel
burn rubber on a road that never ends
run your soul into the ground
we hold a funeral for a friend
you will be cherished in memories
spoken about fondly in small circles
missed dearly while you still walk the earth

hero.

so last night i was having an drunken conversation with my boy jay, and he was talking about some article he read in rolling stone magazine about this dude named master legend. apparently this guy is a real-life superhero who knows kung fu, builds gadgets and fights crime. he has helped police bust drug dealers and all kinds of shit. pretty fucking insane.

peep a video of this dude. he looks like some 80s reject that would go see a judas priest tribute band at dingbatz.



ok so apparently, this is like a pretty real thing, and it's all over the place. they have a whole website dedicated to them, complete with full listings, photo galleries, and all kinds of other shit. they have their own social networking site. it's like facebook for real-life superheroes. there is a whole industry of people who build their costumes. its a whole sub-culture that exists in america. there is even a dude in jersey. his name is phantom zero. actually that name kinda rules. reminds me of some mf doom type shit. why can't i ever see that dude in action somewhere. that would be awesome.

i still haven't figured out if this is disturbing or awesome. i guess it's cool if some dude knows all this kung-fu and fucks people up in the name of justice. i mean, i did grow up with comics and cartoons and that's the basic premise. but when it becomes jimmy, the guy next door that hasn't gotten laid in 20 years, it might get a little weird. costumes, gadgets. i really don't know. either way, i think it's pretty hysterical that this exists on the level that it does. check out some flicks of these freaks. these people are for real with this.

living gods.

Sokushinbutsu: attaining Buddhahood while still alive.

this is some interesting shit right here. throughout the last few centuries, there have been these buddhist monks who have undergone ritual self-mummification for the purpose of becoming a living god. and the process by which they did it is seriously insane. there are three phases to the self-mummification process, each lasting 1000 days or a little under three years.

phase one: for the first 1000 day period, the monks were on a strict diet that consisted of only small amounts of wheat dough, walnuts, hazelnuts, and nutmeg gathered from the surrounding forest. this was done to drastically reduce body fat, since fat decomposes quickly after death. basically it increased the chances of successful mummification. they also practiced rigorous physical activity, prayer and meditation on a daily basis.

phase two: for the second 1000 day period, the diet was reduced to only bark and roots from pine trees. this was done specifically to reduce the water content of the monk's body. during this phase, they became extremely weak and skeletal in appearance. the monk continued to subject himself to long periods of prayer and chanting mantras. towards the end of this phase, the monk drank tea made from the sap of the urushi tree. this sap is extremely toxic, and even its vapors can cause a rash. it is usually used to make a highly durable coating for lacquerware. drinking this tea caused the monk to vomit, sweat and urinate extensively, further reducing the fluids in his body, as well as causing a large build up of poisons. these poisons, however, were an important part of the mummification process, because they would also kill any organism that attempted to decompose the monk's flesh after death.

phase three: now this is insane. during the final 1000 day period, the monk was buried alive in a stone shelter with nothing but a bamboo tube to the surface for air. the shelter was only big enough for the monk to sit up with his legs folded. the monk rang a bell every day to let the other monks know that he was still alive. once the bell stopped ringing, the tomb was sealed. after a period of time, the monk would be exhumed. if the body remained intact and was successfully mummified, he became a living god, and was enshrined and worshipped by the other monks. however, if the body crumbled or decomposed in the shelter, his efforts were for nothing.

pretty fucked up shit huh? peep flicks of some of the living gods. it's estimated that there are anywhere between 16-24 in existence today.

lately.

this has been my theme song. 



i just feel like people have been letting me down left and right. and i fly off the handle. i say nasty things. i write nasty things. sometimes it's deserved. sometimes it's not. either way, i have a vicious tongue and i know it. when i wanna get at someone, i go directly for the jugular. it's good in some situations, but in others it really gets to people and it's fucked up.

i am an intense person. i love deeply. i hate deeply. i hurt deeply. it's the only way i know how to be. by default, i don't let a lot of people into my life because i am not very good with emotion, and honestly, it scares the living shit out of me. it's eventually been spit back in my face with every single attempt i've ever made, so i get skeptical, and it really takes a lot for me to let people in. and i guess that's why i get so mad at the people i care about. i guess in a fucked up way, if i can get really mad at you, it's because i really and truly give a shit about you. i don't waste my time getting mad at people who are insignificant in my life. 

maybe when i get mad, i read into things more than i should. i don't know. my fucked up brain is stuck in a warp and its been living in groundhog's day for years on end. always in a daze. my days are work, drink, sleep, repeat. it's awesome and shitty at the same time, but it is what it is. there's always some little girls up on my shit somewhere. there's always lots of booze and laughs and good times. days just melt together. little girls come and go. and then sometimes, like a ton of bricks, life drops basically one of the best people you've ever known on you and time just stops. and its like you wanna look up in the sky and be like dude. god. are you even fucking serious right now? 

some people just come into your life and you know that they will somehow always be there. but it gets a little tricky when it's a really amazing girl, because it's only a matter of time before you start getting attached to someone. hanging out all the time, laughing really hard, talking everyday, personal, intimate conversations. it will all eventually lead to attachment. and it's not anyone's fault. it's just called being human. people talk a lot of shit and try to act all hard, but in essence we are all looking for the same thing. someone who will be there and be next to you for this fucked up ride of life. i don't want much or expect much from anyone. just that real shit. just that shit that makes you feel good inside.

over the last few weeks, i have finally realized that some things will never be what i want them to be. and it will probably always bother me. but you can't win them all and you can't always get what you want. it's just an unfortunate part of life. it sucks pretty damn bad sometimes, and it really harps on your brain and hangs heavy in your heart. but you gotta suck it up and take it like a man. because otherwise you'll just die inside. idk. maybe one day, another ton of bricks will hit me. maybe not. who knows. but in the meantime, i'll be back in the time machine, warping solo through meaningless days with no seatbelt on. fuck my life <333

city.

so full of tasty treats.