Saturday, March 25, 2006

This Place Needs An Attitude Adjustment

Its been a while since the last post. Shit is real lately.

Here are some videos of people who were down for theirs. Greenvillians, wake up and go home.

Dark Day - Arp's Carpet


Dark Day Info

Nervous Gender you fucks.


Nervous Genders Info


Screamers - 122 Hours Of Fear


Screamers Info

The Normal - TVOD


The Normal Info

In the meantime, I'm going to be working, watching movies, and daydreaming. Take this information, and use it to keep convincing your peers you are more down than they are.

Bye-Bye
Cliff

Friday, March 10, 2006

When I get hype, i do more damage than a crack pipe!


1. Tuff Crew "Gimme Some"
2. Chi Ali "Step Up"
3. Positive K "One To Tha Head"

I think that everyone who considers themself at least a moderate fan of music, has formed a fantasy band in their mind. I know I've had thousands.

Now, I have rock bands, R&B groups, R&B solo acts, rap groups; sometimes I'm a backup singer, or the bassplayer. All eras, all genres, all positions, its fucked up.

Today, I got an idea for a new rap fantasy group. Now, keep in mind that in my rap fantasies, I am usually a 300lb black dude, with a jolly personality, but will still yoke your ass. (Oh, and its usually like 1989.) Anyway, this group includes my 2 best friends in the world, Heppy, and Sweat. Heppy is a little dude, screams all of his verses and jumps around like he's about to watch somebody get that ass whooped. He probably would wear like, a ski mask and shoelaces that didn't match and shit. Sweat, is kind of like Prime Minister Pete Nice; glasses, ice grill, turtle neck and a rope chain, smaking you in the face with monotone critiques, and fag jokes. Me? I'm, like a said before, a big fat dude wearing a starter jacket and a huge ass rope chain, that is just straight clowing you like its the elementary school playground. I'm the dude that is talking about fucking your sister, telling you that you smell like fart, and all that, but I still keep it gangster on some Chi-Ali type shit. Yea, and in case you didn't already guess, we all rock variations of the Kane flow.

We would just rap about rap, and how you suck at rapping.

The point of this blog, and the name of this fantasy group is This, That, & The Third.

Sweat would probably be This, Heppy would most likely be That, and since I was blessed with at least 2 other assholes sharing the same name as me (in real life) I will naturally be The Third.

Yea, there is no point in me sharing this. Its extremely irrelevant, even to me. Its an ill concieved, 1 dimensional, fantasy rap group I made up in a day dream I had 20 minutes ago. So, if you don't get it, and you think its corny, gobble a bowl-a-dick up.

You get the fucking GAS FACE!!! (ooogaadaooogaadaooogaadabbbbbbbbb)

Tha Third '90

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Love's Holiday (Spring Is Starting Over)


1. Sly Stone "Skin I'm In"
2. One Way "Shine On Me"
3. Velvet Haze "Last Day On Earth"
4. The Counts "Why Not Start All Over Again?
5. Curtis Mayfield "Wild & Free"
6. Moses Dillard "Bring Your Dreams To Me"
7. Convertion "Let's Do It"
8. Earth, Wind & Fire "Love's Holiday"


I’ve been waking up every day for about the last 8, with a deep, deep, deep, feeling of romance in my stomach. Nostalgia is pouring out of every pocket, staining every shoelace, affecting the taste of every beer, every cigarette I smoke, and so on. Even on the days when I have felt fucked up, paranoid, anxious; it still busts through all of that and has been really sustaining me lately.

Now, keep in mind, I’m a 25 year old father, who dances around in the mirror lip syncing to my favorite records, just like I did when I was 8. Only now I have an audience, my 1 year old son. So, I’m full of romance, I’m a sucker for it actually, be it relevant or false, I damn near rely upon it. Its one of the personality traits I’m actually glad for. Without it, I would have really spent my entire life being a total failure.

I’ve been thinking about things though; the period in time that my wife and I met, bringing my son home from the hospital, being 19 and burning bridges, listening to Sly, feeling Eddie Hazel, walking down the street with a beer, making horrible decisions meeting the greatest and most important friends and figures I have ever known in my life, giving in to being powerless, walking out of jobs with “fuck you” for the last word, slap boxing for till bruised and pinked, passing out in my front yard in the pouring rain, losing everything, realizing the power and importance of those hours upon hours spent alone lying stomach down on the floor in silence then with music then with talking to myself then with silence then with banging then with music; and did I mention making bad decisions?

I don’t front on a bad decision. There used to be a greater part of me that needed the security of a positive outcome, often preventing me from letting go and doing what was really, youthfully right. This ended when I was about 16. It wasn’t over night, but something just started to bend in me. What I perceived as fault at the time, of just giving less and less of a fuck, was really the amnesty of my shackled soul being granted.

In a way, you always sort of miss those times; the period you spent learning those big lessons. I don’t know man, I think I like how Sly put it, “If you’re real you never slack, you got to go”.

The songs listed above, have been and will always be, some of the songs that make me clinch up and sing to myself with squinty eyes and swollen neck veins.

Cliff

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

This Is Fact, Not Fictional Son Of A Bitch!



1. Willie D "I'm Goin Out Lika Soldier"
2. Willie D "Read These Nikes"
3. Bushwick Bill "Size Ain't Shit"
4. Geto Boys "Assassins"

Geto Boys will fuck you up like a goddamn accident!! Easily the most creative shit in rap history. (Fuck all that dorked out astrological break down nag champa shit you heard.) Not making any fucking sense does not make you creative. Speaking on a rap song about smacking a bitch in her mouth like a dude, killing kids, and Freddy Krueger is. It got your attention right? It made you listen to the fucking midget wearing a chucky doll like a rope chain. And yet, this is the shit that I find so corny about the worlds relationship with the Geto Boys.

People who consider themselves a fucking intellectual never want to acknowledge shit that doesn’t sound like it came from a damn manual. You hear a song like “Mind Of A Lunatic”, don’t get it, and write that group off like fucking a fat bitch. Trying to act like the shit ain’t real doesn’t work though. Boiling it down to just violent lyrics, and ignorance can only work on half of them half of the time. “Nyquil that sickness”.

Theres something I have always respected about a dude that has a point of view (no matter how much I agree/disagree), that is still “inclined to physically whip your ass”. Enter, William Dennis a.k.a O.G. Willie D. The truth. A dude that don’t give a fuck about a goddamn bystander, and songs like “Fuck Rodney King”, “Go Back 2 School” “Do It Like A G.O.”, among others, are a testament to that state of mind under which he lives. When those songs are nestled between songs like “Assassins”, and “Read These Nikes” like TP balls in the crack of your grammas fat ass, it says something bigger to me. Actually, if you really listen to “Goin’ Out Like A Soldier”, Willies 2nd solo effort, the entire record is a social statement.

It’s a statement that has found its way into the gutter of our musical times. “Fuck being rich, fuck your flashy coats, watches, clean hair cuts, groupies and bullshit. Fuck the money you made off of this shit. You are fake, and you cant beat me!!” Even though Geto Boys, and their contemporaries spoke to some degree about these same things, it was never a theme. It was never used to define them. It was usually used as a dis really, like, “I’m a old lady cutting motherfucker, and I look nice as you. PLUS I rap, and if you don’t like how I rap, fuck you, your girl probably wants to fuck.” It was cooler to be on the bottom, as long as you did your thing and the people around you knew what was up, then it was to be all over the T.V. set wearing a big bow tie, hammer footing around with a bunch of back up dancers. Even if Big Bow Tie was making more money, getting more airplay, and reaching more people. Self respect was #1.

We don’t know shit about self respect in music right now. I know its coming back around, everything does. I just hope it’s soon. I’m sick of seeing 14 year old kids wearing Iron Maiden t-shirts who have no idea what Iron Maiden is. I’m also sick of having conversations with 18 year old white kids about rap, who say that 2Pac is the godfather and that Fabolous is the Pac of our time. People are really confused then a motherfucker, and we all know who we need to shake them till they wake up crying; Willie Motherfucking D. I want to see Willie D back on T.V, practically screaming his verses with complete abandon. Threatening your mama, and teaching you important lessons like “Friends ain’t shit when you’re getting you ass kicked.” Which is true than a motherfucker. We need somebody to fear. And not like some homo, Marilyn Manson fear. Some being scared your kid is gonna lock themselves up in their room, fuck that. I mean some real fucking fear. Some, “I’m scared my kid is gonna join a gang” shit. Fear of a mutiny on this bullshit. Kids coming together and kicking you down off of your soap box. Listen to Bushwick's verse on "Talking Loud & Saying Nothing" . The reason groups like GBs, Public Enemy, Ice T, N.W.A and coutless others of the time, were being persecuted? The reason those crackers started putting "Parental Advisory" stickers on your records? They were scared.

Get out the way or get T-Rolled bitch. From another nigga insane kicking ass extremely.

Cliff

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

WOW! This is gassy!!


1. Guy Whatelet - "Some People Said"
2. Cynics - "You're A Better Man Than I"
3. The Omen & Their Luv - "Maybe Later"

Lately, things in my mind have been changing. My general philosophy has taken an abrupt turn, right into a brick wall. Being so overly self aware for so long, I have been seeking freedom. The reality of freedom, the ideal of freedom. But with that freedom there comes a price. A self comprimising price, that pretty much becomes confinement. It becomes the great sleeper hold you just can't shake off.

Now, after some years of wrastling with this theory, I'm about to nod off. I can feel my throat closing up, and hear my snores getting louder. I need control. Janet wasn't playing around, the shit is important. Because, with control you really have freedom. It is actually the key to true freedom. CONTROL!

Since when did being "Outta Control" get anyting constructive accomplished? And, that is essentially what this false sense of freedom that we have been preaching, and trying to reach is. Being outtaconfuckingtrol. I'm sick of feeling like Anthony Michael Hall in Sixteen Candles all the time.

Breif Intermission (BRB!!)



(I really love this clip. When Sky throws down his tambourine? Fuck you!! Nothing can come between you and the world when you are wearing a cape and dancing like a drunk sorority girl.)

So, I was watching this Seeds performance on the greatest thing to hit the web since Plumper Porn, Youtube, and thought how funny it was back then. Rock-n-Roll I mean. It was so fucking taboo, and passionate, yet we still had to exploit the hell out of it anyway we could. Sitcoms, Variety Shows, giving the squares a little taste of our freedom. Showing them how we get down. It was a really popular thing for some really obscure band to try and "get a break" on fucking Patti Duke or some shit ya know? The Seeds on "Mother In Law", Music Machine on "The Munsters", and so on. There actually used to be a page dedicated to archiving appearences of Psychadelic / Garage Rock bands on sitcoms in the '60s.

I remember once, I saw an episode of Green Acres, where they had dudes nephew down there from New York. He had long hair, worked on motorcycles, was into "rockNroll". He was a bad motherfucker. Refused to do work, sat around all day. You know, because he was stoned. It was crazy. I'm not sure if a band played at the end of that episode or not. That was a very common thing huh? Which is real rad and everthing, but look at The Monkees!! Thats what happens when the squares get in on your deal. You get the Monkees. Your power loses its fucking power. It just tapes a big fucking sock in your mouth.

Myself? All of this breeds apathy in me. It makes me just not give a fuck either way. Like, the way I feel right now, I don't even want to keep writing this essay. Whats the point? Its easy to connect with that shit right? "Whats the point?" Its really easy to just not care. To not want to see fire, as long as the shit is hot. Microwaves, voice activated dialing, letters in "E-Mail" (which is some other shit all together. Uh, handwriting anyone??) Lets stop giving enough of a fuck to listen. I think thats the future. We'll just exist inside of our own minds. Thats freedom.

So theres another half assed, partially completed thought about some bullshit. So fuck it. Lets stop grabbing at our own funk, and enjoy that of others. Here are some videos.

See you soon!!! Bye-Bye!!

Maybe this is fun...



Its The Monks live from a German dance show called Beat Club. Watching the entire clip is a requirement. No Monks = No Devo.



Okay, shit man, one more. Standells "Dirty Water". Live at a fucking slot car track or some shit. I have no clue what this is.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Punch Drunk


1.The Ritual "Speed Freak"
2.Catfish Knight & The Blue Express "Deathwise"
3.Coven "Choke, Thirst, Die!"
4.Venom "Live Like An Angel (Die Like A Devil)"
5.Electric Wizard "Phase Inducer"

I feel more uninspired than ever. My son is really sick. And even though I want to, I dont want to write about shit.

So, here are some things I've found on blogs by people more inspired than me, recently. WOW!!

Charlie Up Your Asshole

A nice blog I read sometimes, highlighting the legendary Manson Family Relief Fund LP. If you have never heard this, the first clip is the highlight. "Scratching Peace Symbols On Your Tombstone"? Mama's tombstone that is. It starts at about 2mins.

Jim Jones Is The Best Friend You Ever Had ("Jonestown Death Tape")

Always one to get obsessed with "Themeing", I'll keep the cult leader, maniac vibe at hande. Here is something I had sorta planned on joining every other blogger over the last 2 years or so, by writing about this really creepy tape found at Jonestown. You will be listening to Jimmy urge his followers towards the punchline. One of the more jolting parts is when he screams at his followers to calm there crying children. That, by letting them cry, and be afraid of their nearing demise, they are damning their souls. Very wacky. Have a good time.

Here is more info on Jimmy / Jonestown / The People / The Tapes and more.

Have fun with all of this random doom and gloom. I plan on posting again as usual soon.

A few topics loaded? Sure.

1. Tumbleweed Ted: The Art Of Being Useless
2. Teena Marie
3. Deep To Me, Too Deep To You: Unexpectedly moving records from my childhood & beyond.
4. Random / Pointless Conclusions & Revelations: Step 2

See you next time. Bye-bye!!

Until then, quit your job because you dont need it. Drop out of school because all they teach you is fucking lies man. Kill your parents because they are the ones who fucked you up in the first place. And set your neighbors trash can on fire, because they live there. Stop taking shit off these assholes.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

To Doo-Doo- List

1. Tyrone Davis "A Woman Needs To Be Loved"
2. The Whispers "Its A Love Thing"
3. 33Hz "Chemical Reaction"

As usual, I'm behind at this shit. Yesterdays post was supposed to be Sundays post. Which I didnt even get up until almost midnight last night. Over the last two weeks, I have neglected nearly all of my house hold responsibiltys due to my own internal weaknesses, and made only a tiny break in an adjustment to my familys new schedule. When I started, I was sure in my ability of juggle my real life responsibilities, my ranting, mastebatory blog, my job, and my fantasy band ideas. But, day dreams are a son of a bitch. In reality, I've just been mopeing over a crumby and laundry covered living room floor, surrounded by gunked up counter tops, and uncompleted tasks. My wife has been working her ass off for about 16 days straight, while I sit at home confused and stagnant. What a fucking asshole.

I should just slam my hand in a car door. It would be alot quicker, and affective over fewer people. Slumping down, back into this rut of unproductive failure is the last thing I need in life. My wife and I have worked really hard to rebuild our castle, there is no room to fail anymore. No more will I just drink and dream, its time to create and complete.

I historically suck at house work, and being a good roomate. But I've finally gotten past that at 25 years old. My wife is the greatest thing I've ever been apart of, and she has helped me with lots of work, and many kicks in the ass. I will not let this work have been in vein.

This bullshit is over over. I'm so for real.

2006 is all about the Elevation Of Game.

As this post is a product of a new start, the MP3s listed are to be a soundtrack for you as you have fun, feel great, fulfill promises, pull your weight, complete your tasks, handle your business, realize your dreams, and make the ones you love happy. And if that Tyrone Davis song doesnt move you in a damn near life threatening manner, you are a cold motherfucker, and should stop dateing immediately.

Monday, February 20, 2006

Pointless Conclusions & Revelations. Step 1.


Random / Pointless Conclusions & Revelations. Step 1.

1.Sly & The Family Stone "Skin I'm In"
2.Ween "The Stallion Pt.3"
3.MC5 "Call Me Animal"

A. Porno magazines are for the porn obsessed, and 12 year olds only.

This friend of mine, Tiffany, gave me a stack of Cheri and Hustler magazines for my birthday this year. Maybe 7 or 8. They were tied up with a bow, and a note that said something to the effect of "I hope you and your old lady enjoy!!!". The next morning, after cleaning up the disasterous ass aftermath of my birthday party, i stuck the fuck books on top of the kamode. Since then, everytime i take a shit, i flip through one. A few I have looked through 2 or 3 times. And you know what, I haven't been aroused one time. Its a boring fucking medium. The only way satisfaction is derived is if you are 11 and its like, the 3rd time you have ever seen titties, much less, a chick with her womb exposed. Or, you are a die hard (no pun intended) porn freak who needs to see pussy holes in every single forum, under every circumstance possible, and keeping up with actresses and new video releases.

B. The Undisputed Truth is the black KISS.

I love Motown, The Temptations were great, Norman Whitefield was on some shit, but The Undisputed Truth were a corny, broken ass Funkadelic.

C. I am still a needy motherfucker.

Over the last few years I have felt stronger than I ever have in my life. But over the last few weeks I realize that maybe my self assesment is a little sensationalized. Maybe I dont get bored and lonely as fast as I used to, but I still get bored and lonely. And over the last few weeks, I've been on some seriously, pathetic, bullshit. Bad moods, staring off into glare on my T.V, pointless attitude to the people closest to me, etc. But, fuck that, its just the ghetto trying to kill me, and I ain't falling for that okey-doke no more.

As read in an earlier post, Sundays are for goobs. Boring, salty ass, never ending days. It just so happens that this is my only day off from work. So, with relflection at hand, and time to express in limited ass amounts. I'll try to keep short and consise with a few of this stupid ass "revelations".

Like anyone gives a fuck. Listen to me talking about what I'm doing like someone needs to mark it in their day planner. Its funny how the blogs or just the interweb in general (chat rooms / about mes / message boards / etc) give us a false sense of self importance. Anyone can have a swagger. When in real life, we can hardly get the courage to send our fucked up meal back to the kitchen of our favorite restaurant.

P.S. The pharmacy at Walgreens is on some serious elitist shit. Poor folks like us can only get maybe a quarter of our scripts filled their. So I just asked my wife, why the fuck she just took ANOTHER script there, and she said. "I love Walgreens, it so nice there and the Pharmacist looks like a really tall skinny Wizard." Nice.

Friday, February 17, 2006

Masculinity Is A Bitch




1. Pentagram "Forever My Queen"
2. Ruby Andrews "I Want To Be Whatever It Takes To Please You"
3. Bassholes "Puddin' Tane"
4. Sister Ray "You Can't Push Me Away"
The whole “Metro-sexual” craze has totally hit the street with a steel toed boot and a buzz cut. Every second or third guy you see, has a ribbed turtle neck on, quite a bit of gel up in their frosted doo, and some leather shoes that come with the trusty Pilgrim Buckle. I work with a girl that is a Cosmetologist by day, that was telling me about her brothers friends who come to her on the low-low for some shaped up brows and Mani-Pedis. That shit was real far out to me. They were scared to be seen doing it, but the finished product of themselves wasn’t embarrassing? Hmmm. This type of shit would have probably gotten you laughed at then a motherfucker 10 years ago.

Every guy has some color or product in their hair. Dudes straightening their every day before they will leave the house. Making sure their bangs are sitting just right over their favorite eyebrow. Every guy has some rings or other jewelry hanging from their silky and buttered hands and necks, too much cologne; maybe some jeans they picked up in the Junior Miss Dept hugging in tightly, and walletless because now they have a purse. Guys want to work in clothing stores, or some other labor less, lower body type of position. They want to be thought of as sensitive, concerned, self aware, and super clean wine drinkers (even though a large percentage of these shit-holes are just ‘bout it for the pussy).

Guys are so soft handed now it’s crazy. And unfortunately this extends beyond your flat ironed, mall employed guys. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve been around a motherfucker who refused to perform a task because they didn’t want to get dirty. What type of shit is that? All ages, most classes, it doesn’t matter. Don’t you remember when you were a young boy (or girl) and every man around you could fix almost anything, or at least they would give that shit a whole hearted shot? Men had fucked up hands, facial scars, tough jobs, not much time to relax, not a whole lot to say, and when they did speak it was really insightful or fucking hilarious. Although I was always in admiration, and constantly inspired by it, I had my own personal issues that pretty much have crippled me from allowing myself to do anything truly constructive for a larger portion of my life. This also includes caring about or realizing anything outside of my own mind.

Even though when I was 14 I thought that these guys were dumb, they were still my Heros. Which, intellectually, they really were dumb. But so fucking what? They have all of us beat on everything else. It’s actually, their wisdom, hard work, and commitment that has spoiled and afforded us the leisure of “Intellect”.

Take care of yourself and handle your business. Take care of your woman’s every need. Not just her bar tab, or telling her which blouse to wear. Be her handy man. Feed and teach your kids. Do right. Work hard. Build a home. Fuck $50 hair cuts, $100 blue jeans, clean finger nails, waxed eye brows, matching socks, showers everyday, breathy lead singers, talking your self out of a fist fights, diaries, not liking heavy metal, scarves with t-shirts, pouty facial expressions, "sex lines", what you eat, and what you listen to. Shut up, and be a goddamn man.

I would like to thank the following for being around when I was growing up. Helping me to not be a total pussy my entire life:
Papa Robinson
Gary Burgess
Rufus
Tommy Looper
Big Dave
Mr. Turner
Seagrams Ed
Mr. Revis
Blob
Mr. Leroy Looper (Helmet Head)
Preston
P.R.
Horace
Onie

There are too many more. These are just the ones on the tip of my mind. Please leave a comment with a couple of your Male influences in the comments section.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

I Wanna Lose Control For About 15 Mins




1.Rodd Keith "Little Rug Bug"
2.Arthur Russell "Make 1,2"
3.Don Blackman "Loving You"
4.Gary Wilson "I Wanna Lose Control"

Who is the Happy Harry Hard On of blogging? Who is the Judas Priest of the web? Convincing 14 year olds to kill their parents and / or themselves. Its an element that is definitely missing in cyber space. Fucking stupid, Cyber Space. Do you ever think you are an idiot for being so committed and reliant upon something called “Cyber Space” for your information and entertainment? Or, something that is often referred to by using a “surfing” analogy?

I do. I think to myself, a lot actually, that this is very fucking lame. When it comes to music, it really bugs me. My pal Masse and I were having a discussion about this the other day. Its like, how are people really enjoying and experiencing music? Taking risks? Getting to know the music first, before the hype or the stupid fashion? Hearing the record before they read thousands of reviews and partially squeezed opinions, that by human nature, create predjudices? I used to buy the most random shit when i was younger. Spending hours in the record store and unable to decide. There were things i wanted, but i felt like i was cheating myself or missing something by just picking up something I already knew about. Like, it was an easy out or something. Whatever I picked up, I took it home, loved it, hated it, it didn’t matter. I formed an organic relationship with the album and its songs and art work. When I loved it, it was often really funny, I would hear this great record, and months later read about or see pictures of the dudes and they would be the corniest motherfuckers ever. And more often than not, it didnt really matter. If I was making the effort to read up on, or find out more about said band or album, i was probably really fucking into it. If I would have read that interview or article prior to my purchase I would have never picked it up. And shit, even if I did pick it up, getting over the visual of some rim job with a gold hoop, bowl cut, and a Mickey Mouse shirt, talking about how heavy shit got in the studio it would have never left me. I would've been listening to that album from a very corrupted place.

I’m sick of reading about bands. Listening to FREE CLIPS. Reading some jerk off bloggers witty review. Starring into fancy fucking websites. I want to go to the record store, and buy an album I’ve never heard about. Based on instruments listed, or really great cover art. I don’t want to know the label, the drummer, the lead singer. I dont want to know what their favorite bands are, or who they've been touring with. I want to take that bitch home, and listen from beginning to end with headphones, and only know the music.

I really hate sounding like some motherfucker that’s just bitter or out of touch, but come on. Music used to make me want to fight, music made me wanna fuck, music made me wanna play music, music made me wanna get fucked up. Sometimes when i was already fucked up, it would make me want to get even more fucked up. It could turn a really bad time into a really great time, and good into bad. And this was all from just listening. I didn’t know bios, or political stances (unless it was a topic on the record), I didn’t know if the motherfuckers collected ceramic dolphin figurines, serial killer memorabilia or soilded panties, and I didn’t give a fuck. Still don’t really. (Well, collecting soiled panties would probably be a great seller for me honestly. That would be one hell of a dude to boast that shit.)

Its good to be inspired by a persons art. Not their persona, which I think is too often whats happening. Of course there are special cases where the two go hand in hand, and a persons vibe and charisma is undeniable, but you should accept guidance in its natural, uncontrived form when its presented to you. Be thankful if you find it, and accept that you probably need it.

I mean, sometimes all you had to do was play a song in a girls presence and they would think you were “trying to tell them something”. It was too easy to put off the wrong vibe on a first date just by flipping the tape over and shit. Your ass had to be careful about what songs you put on a mix tape if it were for the opposite sex, or they might think it was a love letter on cassette. Hell, step out of context on a mix tape and you would make somebody think “Goddamn, this motherfucker got problems". They might not talk to you for a while after that. Its happened.

But, to wrap up this tired ass entry, there is nothing wrong with music or media today. There is good shit out there. Sincerity, is everywhere. Its just, the complacency of our youth, and society in general. Nothing is sacred. Everything is ironic. How did being sincere, and genuine become corny? How did, saying what you mean directly become weak? When did dancing, just because the song is hot get played out?

Look man, I ain’t shit, and I’m totally cool with that okay. This is just my hyper romanticized point of view, based on my relationship with music, love, and life, in contrast to the people i have been around over the last few years, and things i read. Which, my history is a pretty pathetic one to say the least in most cases, so dont get it twisted. I've always been lost, and I'm still pretty lost. If you think you've found the way, you are probably worse off than most. But goddamnit, open up your fucking hearts, and let yourself love something. Dance in public. Enjoy Phil Collins because that motherfucker is real. Spend more time on your About Me section, and less time filling in band names on the Music section of your Myspace if you know what i mean.

Cliff.

Okay, and speaking of Myspace. 95% of the bands on this forum are fucking crazy. I found this today, on a bands page that lives in my city. I went to school with one of these assholes littles sisters. Anyway, this is how they describe themselves "The sub-sonic mixture of rock, pop, trance, and hip-hop gives us a form of music we like to call Terrestial Rock!" Im sorry, i really have nothing clever to say in respose to this. It speaks for itself.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Standing On The Verge Of Getting It On




1. Eddie Hazel "Frantic Moments"
2. Beach Boys "Thats Not Me"

3. The Raincoats "Animal Rhapsody"


I feel pretty lonely lately. My wife started a new job during the day and is phasing out her old night job. Which means for a while it’s a lot of doubles. So, during the day I’m getting my Michael Keaton on, then working night shifts in a greese pit, and so on.

I’ve never really been one for extended solo trips. Its why I hated Sundays when I was a kid. All of your friends were at Sunday lunch with Grandmas old stinking ass, or getting their holy ghost party on. My family didn’t do shit. We sat around and listened to each other swallow. Starting when I was about 8 or 9, on “Sunday”, I clung to the floor in front of my stereo. ALL FUCKING DAY. Which was real great and all that but, by noon, I was dick deep in a mind hole. Accompanied by blank stares, and detached conversation. Driven only by boredom, and self loathing, I moped, drew invisible pictures on the carpet for hours, talked to myself, listened to non-stop heavy metal for a couple of hours, then I would drop some Kid N’ Play like it was my fucking job for another couple of hours. I practiced dance moves for my fantasy appearance on Star Search. I would sit in the bath tub all alone and sing. I would lie in the floor with my head in this book shelf I had for hours, just listening to myself sing or hum along with the music. Sundays were pretty depraved, and quite pathetic. The ability to carry out 2 and 3 hour long Air Guitar sets is pretty fucking useless in life.

I mean, I would play outside, or draw or do some other shit like that for a little while. But, when I was 8 my attention span was pretty minimal and corny. I needed stimulus. I’m not really sure what it is. Even if a lot of shit is going on around me, or I’m directly involved, my mind wonders. Not just to a bad place but, just wonders, and after too long I get way out there. I’ll seem like I’m withdrawn or disconnected from who or whatever is around me, but I’m just really far off in my own random thoughts.

I’ve felt this more often over the last couple of weeks. And now its just really building up. Where, the last 3 mornings I awoke in a fucked up mood, already in a mind hole. There is no right side of the bed for me lately.

Well, there really is no resolution to this shit. That was it. I’m bored, lonely, and sick of spending entire days without speaking to anyone who can speak back.

So, above I listed a couple of songs I’ve been listening too lately. Not necessarily relevant, just songs.

Enjoy the music, ignore the trifling ass text, and stay tuned for more interesting shit.

Oh yea, i almost forgot. Waking up to this video clip I found on another blog made me feel better than a motherfucker today. This dude wasn't playing. Too bad now you know he's working at Kinkos or doing data entry somewhere. Homie looks like a sober Mick Mars.

Cliff

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Lets Spend The Night At Your Mansion.



1. The Beautiful Ones

2. Take Me With You

So, ive pretty much looked at Purple Rain every night for the last 8 nights or so. It started because wifey had A.) Never seen Purple Rain and B.) "Didn't really like Prince Rogers Nelson". What the fuck i've always thought, and found it time to proceed with a little guidance.

Putting on Purple Rain; giving a little preface on why me and those on "the level" know Prince as a total fucking seething genius. I settled in with a sloppily rolled doobie and kicked back with my little student.

After a solid week of doubles at work, and life stress, wifey was nearing her nightly visions of sugar plums. So, i let me stoned a dusted eyes take a rest and spaced out to dialogue and soundtrack.

Around the time "The Beautiful Ones", came on shit was getting deep. I dozed off into a seriously heavy, dreamy sleep. Harloquins danced on the backs of lavender Pegasus, and i fed them all from the palm of my hand, Twizzlers and Fluff.

Then suddenly, fear came over me.

An anxiety came over me in the dream, so strong, that i realized i was sleeping and understood that whatever was going on had to be in "the real world". I popped up sweaty and nervous to the backwards shreeking of "Im Fine" from the scene when Appleonia buys Prince his white guitar, and is playing cassette of demos she finds in his tape deck.

I had forgotten about the sound in that scene, and freaked the fuck out. I couldnt determine if the sound was in my mind, or in the movie. At the time, it didnt make sense for this noise to play over a kissing scene. I had this same experiance on Acid once. It really blew my high, and i spent the last 3 hours or so, in a frenzy of makebelieve. Truly feeling that every sound or action I encountered was a complete figment of my imagination.

The next night, we put on Purple Rain again, and now with the power of my new and heightened perception of the film and sound track, i painted and undenieable picture of who Prince is, and the intesity of his magic for my wife.

She watched, and listened in the proper state of mind. Officially putting her on "The Level", and opening her heart to the meaning of dreams, and giggeling. Showing her the endless pillow fights, and roller coaster rides that ARE knowing Prince.

This is no new discovery for most of us. I only share because i feel that the irony soaked culture we live in has, in a small way, cast a light of quirkypopularcultureoddityhasbeen onto Prince undeservedly. He is a mystery, an asshole, and a genius. His music should be heard from a non corrupted place.

As i begin my crusade of THE FULL ALBUM. Let this be the first on your list. Start here. Use headphones, start with side A, and don't stop until the needle is bouncing off the lable of side B.

C.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Techmaster PEB


Ultimate Woofer Test Posted by Hello

I used to have this cassette tape a long ass fucking time ago. A dub actually, that was given to me by this kid Cory. He was a pretty cool guy. A few years older than me, but the only reason i was around him was because he was my moms friends kid. The first time i ever drank a 40oz was with Cory. He used to drive a 1989/90 Sidekick. It was teal, with a hot pink lazer stripe down the side.

He had 2 12s that didnt match, hooked up to a stolen tape deck. Techmaster was regular ammo for his ultimate bass weapon. The skating rink, and mall parking lots were our spots. Also, there was this really grimey hobby shop we used to roll at. Where i met this other really funny asshole named Chris who was literally obsessed with Dj Magic Mike. This fuck didnt even have a car. Shit, he didnt even live with anybody who had a car. And used to fucking knock that Magic Mike through his walkman. It was strange. He would have entire conversations with you while the Magic Mike was blaring out the headphones so loud, that it could be heard at least 5 or so feet away.

Cory is the same dude who gave me my first Bad Religion tape (another dub) one side was Against The Grain, and the other was Suffer. I'm not sure what year it was, but i was about 10 or 11. So, around 91. Against The Grain was brand new. But anyway. Cory was really funny. Gangster / Skateboarding / Low-Rider Magazine / Lover / Modern Rocker... He really wanted to break free from the Berea Forest. But the brush was too fucking thick in the end.

Last I heard, him and a couple of guys (one of which is retarded), were caught or almost caught picking up hookers. I hope they were gonna rob em'. But im pretty sure somebody was trying to get their dick sucked. This was in 1997 or so.

This MP3 is expired. My bad.

Cliff



  • Techmaster P.E.B-"Bassgasm"