Waterwheel

The Life and Times of the Soon to be Late, Georges Borchardt

2009-09-25T15:19:00.006-05:00

I came across this pretty lengthy but fairly interesting interview about the renowned publishing agent Georges Borchardt, yes, the one who introduced a few somewhat famous authors to the States (i.e. Sarte and Samuel Beckett). I am not lying when I say this is lengthy, so beware, as I had to break it up between a few days to finish it. But for anyone interested in books, I found the below a must read.

Really old French dude spills his guts about publishing novels in the States

If somebody asks you what you do and you say, "I'm a writer," the next question will be, "But what do you do for a living?" - Georges Borchardt

Cheers.

I Want To Deep Relationship You

2009-09-12T11:55:00.002-05:00

A few days ago at work, Steve gave a tour of his apartment complex to three Korean UIC students who were looking for a residence. A day later, at 5:48am, Steve received the below letter, which not been edited from its original content.
Who says the language barrier can't provide a few classic moments?

hi...steve...

i'm hoya, shied boy...

i met you yesterday you my new aptment serching, you are so kind and comfortable...

don't worry, i'm not gay.

i just uic student studing english, i hope my english tutor.

your pronounce is so good, i want to deep relationship you.

even if i don't english, i try to study and i want to know you...

if you are good, i daily meet and togather talk about everything and everybody...

my friend steve~

can you help me?

i'm not dangerice guy and don't worry...

i want to good friend...

take care and have a nice day...

i want to receive your good mail...

hoya.

with much care,
kaw

Drink Em Up Boys, It's My Last Night in Town

2009-08-19T15:54:00.004-05:00

This may quite possibly be the only bonus to Chicago's 10pm noise curfew on all outdoor amplified sound systems, aka live music.

Too bad I am short and could only see the top of Ben's head. Oh well. Maybe in my next life I will be a giraffe.

Enjoy,

KAW

Freud Would Have A Field Day

2009-06-10T15:08:00.002-05:00

Friends I need help.

Two nights ago I had a dream about being at a barbecue. In the dream there was one of those red and white checkered table cloths covering a picnic table, and the table was full of hundreds of different kinds of meats ranging from full cooked ducks (thanks Steve) and huge chicken legs (thanks Kentsmas).

I no longer remember who was there, I actually do not think anyone I knew was in attendance, so it could not have been considered "crucial" or anything.

Anyway, while I was at the barbecue, every time someone turned their back or wasn't paying attention to me, I grabbed a piece of Spanish chorizo sausage, cut in about 2 inch circles, off the table and scarfed it down.

Now this isn't that terrible, except this occurred for the entirety of the dream, over and over and over again. And no matter how full I became off the sausage I just kept packing them in.

After reading the above correspondence, which answer best defines the meaning of the Sausage Dream:

A. I am subconsciously gay and starving for sausage.
B. My brain really wants me to start eating meat again.
C. I miss Spain and really want to live in Barcelona.
D. I want to have sex with my mom.
E. All of the above

Cheers,
Kent

The Clocks are Sorry, The Clocks are Very Sad

2009-05-08T12:20:00.008-05:00

Dear Grandmother,

There is nothing easy about this dying.

But what matters now and only now, is how you gave everything to this world, especially to my brother and I. The way you kept all of your promises and how you saw every single one of my baseball games and how you knew how to say I Love You even in those last days when you were so weak you couldn't move your lips.

and then there was your sister, who did the same for her family. How similar you both were, the way you gave up everything for someone. I only hope you knew how appreciative we all were. But in the end, how unsurprising it was, both of you leaving this life of wanting, no more than a half day apart. How close you were your entire lives, soul mates with the same blood. Nothing would make more sense than holding the other's hand into the unknown.

For you both, here are two poems for which I will hum to you every day for the rest of my life.

The first by Donald Justice, I have found, out of all the poems I have ever read, to be the saddest. And another by e.e. cummings for which I find to be one of the most beautiful poems.

There is nothing else, than to have both these at the same time, so heavy with their own weight.

Psalm and Lament

In memory of my mother (1897-1974)
Hialeah, Florida

The clocks are sorry, the clocks are very sad.
One stops, one goes on striking the wrong hours.

And the grass burns terribly in the sun,
The grass turns yellow secretly at the roots.

Now suddenly the yard chairs look empty, the sky looks empty,
The sky looks vast and empty.

Out on Red Road the traffic continues; everything continues.
Nor does memory sleep; it goes on.

Out spring the butterflies of recollection,
And I think that for the first time I understand

The beautiful ordinary light of this patio
And even perhaps the dark rich earth of a heart.

(The bedclothes, they say, had been pulled down.
I will not describe it. I do not want to describe it.

No, but the sheets were drenched and twisted.
They were the very handkerchiefs of grief.)

Let summer come now with its schoolboy trumpets and fountains.
But the years are gone, the years are finally over.

And there is only
This long desolation of flower-bordered sidewalks

That runs to the corner, turns, and goes on,
That disappears and goes on

Into the black oblivion of a neighborhood and a world
Without billboards or yesterdays.

Sometimes a sad moon comes and waters the roof tiles.
But the years are gone. There are no more years.

if there are any heavens my mother will

if there are any heavens my mother will(all by herself)have
one. It will not be a pansy heaven nor
a fragile heaven of lilies-of-the-valley but
it will be a heaven of blackred roses

my father will be(deep like a rose
tall like a rose)

standing near my

(swaying over her
silent)
with eyes which are really petals and see

nothing with the face of a poet really which
is a flower and not a face with
hands
which whisper
This is my beloved my

(suddenly in sunlight

he will bow,

& the whole garden will bow)

To the two woman who taught me how to treat everything with compassion, may your loving kindness touch every single inch of all the new worlds.

With much love for all time,
kaw

College Street

2009-04-27T09:54:00.003-05:00

A friend of mine found this on the Huffington Post and sent it my way. Thought I would pass it along for everyone's enjoyment.

College Street + Police Riots = Memories

Cheers,
KAW

Welcome Helios, And All of Your Son's Fire

2009-03-20T10:12:00.000-05:00

Good Afternoon Friends,

For the past couple days I have been waking up at incredibly odd hours of the night. Two nights ago it was 3:10 am, and today 4:48. This normally wouldn't be a cause for concern, as I have been sleeping in a living room for 7 months. But since Dane moved out, and I re-routed my sleeping habits behind closed doors, I felt that my REM sleep should at least occur at a more consistent basis. But anyway, I didn't realize the reason for these rude awakenings until last night when I logged onto the Google homepage and the main font had been changed to the "Hungry Little Caterpillar"

"That's it" my brain shouted! It wasn't actually my sleep habits, but instead, it was the Sun playing dirty tricks on the Moon. For instance, this morning, the sun came up behind the moon and covered his eyes with his hands, saying "Guess Who?!?" but since the moon is made mostly of rock, his blue eyes turned molten, and dripped out into the vast meteor field of Satellites. So what sounded like the dying cat screams of my radiator, was actually the Moon running circles around the Earth's atmosphere yelling at the top of his lungs "Fuck you, Sun! Fuck you, Sun!" and the Sun chuckling like Santa Claus does in those old cartoons, holding his belly while leaning back in hysteria. I don't even want to know what the Sun was doing at 3am a few nights ago...

Anyway, an explanation is coming... So why would the Sun play such tricks on the lonely and Nerd-like Moon? Because today, across the entire globe, daytime and nightime share almost the exact amount of presence in our lives And from now until the Autumnal Equinox, the Sun will rule over the moon. So, in celebration of this yearly feat, the Sun gets back at the Moon for all of that terrible winter darkness, and rubs it in by physically scarring the moon (seriously, this is in Greek Mythology, look it up). And you thought all of those craters were from Asteroids? shame on you.. shame on you...

But alas, I want to give a shout out to my boy, THE SUN. My dear friend, I welcome you back to old form.

Please everyone do their best to enjoy for the next 6 months, while he is king of the sky.

Cheers,
Kent

Ketchup Always Cheats

2009-03-12T09:10:00.003-05:00

Good Morning Friends,

I wanted to give a congratulatory shout out to my good friend Ally Sedivy for getting the ultimate job:

Just to think, all she has to do is run around in either a ketchup, mustard or onion costume and she gets to watch home games for free.

Let's just hope she won't get roped in to the Dark Side of the Ketchup, and resort to cheating for fan amusement. Although seeing people in hot dog costumes get shoved into the wall behind home plate is quite amusing. Plus, in my opinion, why would anyone want to be anything but the Mustard dog. Onion and Ketchup are only optional condiments for a good hot dog. But I also live in Chicago.

Cheers,

kaw

Close Only Counts for Horseshoes, Hand Grenades, and Atomic Bombs

2009-03-11T22:10:00.006-05:00

Good Evening Friends,

Stephen came across this bit of coincidental magic on Craig's List earlier this evening:

"We both got off at the California stop - w4m - 29 (blue line 12:50pm:

You remind me of Charlie Day from "It's Always Sunny in Philidelphia." I sat across from you and I really couldn't stop looking at you. You didn't even seem to notice, but you glanced at me maybe once or twice. There was an obnoxious drunk asking for money around the Damen - Western area and he stood at the doors. My earphones were in and I pretended not to hear him. We got off at the the California stop together and even walked down the stairs side-by-side, and I thought I could muster the courage to tell you how cute I think you are, but alas, I kept my earphones in and chickened out completely. I had a cream hat on, dark hair underneath, and a dark green coat. Maybe you remember, but probably you don't. I so wish I had said something now...your scruffy beard and lovely eyes made me smile."

Some days I want nothing more than to find a missed connection about one of my friends so I can respond for them, and say something super creepy like, "just glancing that one time into your green eyes made my taste buds think it had just eaten the worlds sweetest Nectarine". But, alas, I had never found a post close enough I felt comfortable responding to. Until today! When this lovely green coated woman posts one that could have been me. I mean how many short, bearded, homeless looking men could possibly live in my neighborhood? Unfortunately, too many. Plus I was at work around 12:50pm this afternoon, thus ruling out the made connection. But who thinks I should respond anyway by relating her eyes to some delicious tart, a classic show tune, slaying dragons, or some other weird metaphor that may creep the shit out of her?

Cheers,

kaw

To Surf Across the Atlantic , Alone

2009-03-06T15:35:00.005-06:00

Good Afternoon Everyone,

I came across this website earlier today (thanks T.P.) and found this to be quite astonishing:

Katie Spotz

It always amazes me, how much personal sacrifice some people are willing to place upon themselves. I mean, I had trouble rolling out of bed this morning, and Katie is out training on the Pacific, to row 2500 miles in less than a year. But what gets at me more, is not perhaps how tough the challenge is going to be physically, but mentally as well. In order to row alone, for such a distance, there has to be a deep deep hunger for loneliness. And I admire this more than anything. How a person can knowingly pull themselves away from everything they have ever known, and find the passion necessary to complete the feat. It will take her approximately 100 days to row across the ocean, with 100 days worth of freeze dried food and just a small built in cabin to provide shelter for sleeping and protection from storms.

This all reminds me of a man I met a little over a year ago who got a job on one of the most north western tips of Alaska (at least as far as one can go before it is below 30 on a daily basis), to watch over an uninhabited island. He was to be the only person living on the entire island, in a small cabin without electricity, just an old radio that barely works. A boat would come in about once a month bringing rations, or whatever else he needed. What he told me, was that someone who once lived on an opposite island, had left a white horse, who now roamed wild. When the tide was low, the man would walk across the sand to the other island to watch the horse gallop around. This was his only routine contact in the world, completely guided by the earth's gravitational pull, and nothing else. This intense loneliness, was what the man most desired in the world.

Anyway, Katie will be the first woman to do a solo row across the Atlantic. She is also the first person to swim the 352 mile length of the Allegheny river. And since I didn't mention it before, Katie is a graduate from Kent State, so perhaps she can also become the first person of fame (not related to sports, sorry Mr. Gates) to actually graduate from KSU .

Cheers,

kaw

As The Fog Rolls In

2009-02-26T16:28:00.007-06:00

Good afternoon friends,

Since Monday of this week, the following 3 noteworthy things have happened:

1. I have seen a total of 3 car accidents, all of which involved an ambulance and more than 3 cop cars, but also appeared as though no one was bleeding or laying lifeless in blood on the pavement. I am starting to believe cops just like to hang out as much as possible, so when something goes wrong they all head to the scene to talk about football and porno with their buds. Hell, I would do that too if I was in the force, except maybe substitute Football with Fantasy Baseball and Porno with chatter about why Slumdog Millionaire and Sean Penn both did not deserve to win their respective Oscars. Shame.

2. Was several inches away from being roadkill while crossing the street twice.

3. A friends apartment was broken into. In broad daylight no less, and the thieves threw a brick through their front window and proceeded to take everything electronic in their apartment. They even live on one of the busier streets in the city. I am quite astonished how no one heard or noticed a smashed out window, or better yet more than several men carrying a big screen TV out into a van. Maybe the final episode of Seinfeld is airing too much in Chicago for our own good.

4. Snoots declared that he would take Grady Sizemore #1 in the fantasy baseball draft. Idiot. I hope he gets first pick so I can get Sir. Alberto Pujols (He got knighted, no joke) and then later trade him a number 7 pick for Sizemore when he slumps in the first half. I am posting this only so everyone can get a cheerful laugh on Snoots' behalf and also because the rest of this post was too much on the negative side of things. For that I apologize. But seriously, if you looked outside today and saw the amazing fog downtown coming in from Lake Michigan, it seemed as though Doomsday was approaching, and the 4 horseman were riding Jet ski's (painted black with skulls on them, of course) on the Chicago River. I may be over exaggerating, but maybe I am not.

I hope all of you are well. And please watch out for cars and thieves.

Cheers.

kaw

Sexy, Smooth, Yet Sophisticated!

2009-02-14T14:50:00.003-06:00

Good Afternoon Friends,

Happy Valentine's Day to everyone. Its one of those days where it seems the Earth spins a little bit faster, excited so many people are boning at a constant rate of 10,000 fucks a second. If I were Earth, I'd be spinning faster too, so hold on to your nearest cock pole, and try not to be blown away.

I know you have been waiting to complete your new favorite V-day compilation so you can construct a cute little package to give to your favorite guy or gal, and then proceed to making the world spin faster, so I will not keep you waiting.

Valentine's Day Compilation- Song 13- Between the Buried and Me- Camilla Rhodes

This moment is set. Let's make magic. You're the #1 girl; it's time to
stay at the top. This the song of the year. We just recorded your
orgasm. The music isn't shit anymore; your sexual vibe carries across the
land. Daydream sex, broken marriage fuck. You cause this shit. Everyone
has been waiting for this moment; for this song. This song of the
year: "sexy, smooth, yet sophisticated." The music isn't shit. It's all
about IMAGE, IMAGE, IMAGE. Fuck your song, you're looking good. We just
recorded your orgasm, and the money is rolling in.
Alone, afraid, smile glued bright. Feeling so dirty, sexed up by human
eyes. An "artist" washed over, pulled under. The moment is set, let's
make magic. You're the #2 girl; it's time to kill for the top. Let's
show this song of the year. We videotaped your orgasm. The music was
never shit, we lied, we lied, as you lay...drained, tired and robbed of
your self-expression...you're a toy, a toy for lust and greed. Insecure
depression, the mirrors are laughing at us. Trying to be sexy queen,
trying to be darling. You've pounded in her little head like daddy wants
to pound in you. Daydream sex, broken marriage fuck. You cause this
shit. Makeup, bras and lingerie no need for this algebra. Family dinners
silent, speaking only to ourselves...This orgasm on the screen has molded

Valentine's Day Compilation- Song 14- Converge- Love as Arson

All these fairy tale forevers welcome everyone in,
and it's no wonder that she fell from his great blue sky.
I can still taste my defeat on these lips and you still have Hell welled up in your eyes.
I will burn that bridge when we get it it. Erase the sun.
These days we laugh a little slower,
and we push our fears a little lower than I ever thought we'd sink.
To those who've killed this hope, a presage, I will rise again. Phoenix in flight,
I'm here to break your wings. I welcome this.
Don't let this heart stop beating I won't let this heart stop beating
and I will rise again and again. I will rise again

And just when you thought this was already the best mix ever assembled, I have decided to add on not One, but TWO, super secret songs that you can add onto the end of this mix to surprise that special someone in your life. Enjoy:

Valentine's Day Compilation Completely Necessary- Secret Song #1

Valentine's Day Compilation Super Completely Necessary- Secret Song #2

Now, you may think that I mis-planned this album due to how unbelievably short this is for a mix CD. But really, I know you better then you think. This mix is intended to help you and your partner reach the best friggin climax known to all of mankind, and not be forced to push pause/stop when you are panting, covered in sweat and have become paralyzed in that puddle of love making due to that super climax you just had. So, purposely I made this so it cums when you cum, and then you can just hit the play button again and begin so fresh and so clean clean when you decide on Seconds, Dessert, or even Morning Sex Round.

I hope you will enjoy this much much more than I will, but for some reason I doubt that.

With much care,

kaw.

P.s. My Valentine from Nard Dog Jr. Jr....Say hello to "Crimson Ghost-entine," my after date, date for this evening's festivities:

Hypertension? Diabetes? I Had It All!

2009-02-13T16:39:00.006-06:00

Good Evening Friends,

Today is Friday the 13th, and it can only mean one thing, and no its not time to run around killing kids in a variety of gruesome ways, but rather, it is time I stop fucking around and post some real heavy hitting jams that will do all of that work for me. There is nothing more metal than enlisting some Banshee screams and low death growls to do all the dirty work. And because I am going out for a drink, and don't have time for that killing bull shit no mo'. I know what your saying, I gave up so soon, with only one more day of these stupid rants about metal music and morbid fantasies that were not fact checked and/or do not even make any fucking sense. But I need a beer, or 50. How else will the blond in yesterday's post look good enough to sleep with?

Valentine's Day Massacre Compilation- Song 11- Number Twelve Looks Like You- Blue Dress

Dragged to the burial where witches flew overhead
Roses drip black, and children weep in awe at their mother's side
And tissues break... shows your ample wit...
To get back at your bastards lust.
Razor proof veil and an odorless scarf bring the day to rust.
Blue dress at a black grave
Razor proof veil and an odorless scarf bring the day rust.

Valentine's Day Massacre Compilation- Song 12- The Red Chord- Dreaming in Dog Years

Searching for a mode and for a method.
What's he thinking and what the fuck is he saying?
And does it matter anyway? "Never again..."
I begin to think,
As the liquid seeps in and the agony escapes my lungs.
The simple concept of trust.
You can't take back some mistakes.
You've come to see me, now I know that my life must end.
And while I may be forgotten, there will be no forgiveness.
You've come to see me, now I know that my life must end.
Searching for mode or motivation... what was I thinking?
Dreaming in dog years.
And though I may be forgotten, there will be no forgiveness.
You've come to see me, now I know that my life must end.
Be it seven seconds or seven years,
It doesn't matter when you're dreaming in dog years.
Just like the kiss that condemned christ,
It was such a pity to throw what we had away
Dreaming. Now, I'm not afraid to die.
Just like the kiss that condemned christ, what a pity.
You threw it all away. Dog years.
Now I'm not afraid to die.
There's nothing left. Dreaming.
Splitting headaches and random thoughts...what matters anyways?
Hypertension? Diabetes? I had it all, now I can't feel my legs.
I heard the metal clank, and Guy just sold out good ole' Bud.
And it's not gonna be alright.
And it's not going to be "ok."

No worries, it will probably be alright and then ok. No one drinks Bud anymore.

Fuck Heineken!, PABST BLUE RIBBON!!!

Cheers,

kaw

A Light Towards the End of Dead Mountain Mouth

2009-02-12T09:35:00.008-06:00

Good Evening Friends,

Holy Cow! I cannot believe Valentine's Day is only two days away! Normally, at this point, I would be scouring the local street corners for the dirtiest and cheapest gal of the evening hours that I can take out for a romantic St. Valentine's dinner. Last year I found this 6'4 thick legged Ugly Blonde Broad at a local 7 Eleven buying a Coca-Cola slushie, so I took her out for a night on the town, and by town I mean we went to Chipotle. She ate two burritos, damn expensive whore. But this year is going to be completely different, you know with the economy the way it is and everything. I think I am just going to stand on the street corner myself and see if any dudes driving around in Beamer's (if I get lucky, a blue lambo ) with tinted windows will take me to Chipotle. I have been craving some good ol' chips and guac for some time now... nudge, nudge.

Anyway, with that aside, today is yes, another day, which means two more metal jams for your metal peanut butter. You know that part on some albums right in the middle where the songs kind of drag on a bit, as though the band put their best songs in the front and back of the albums so you as a listener enter and leave the album a satisfied fan. But after awhile you just end up skipping over them, and who has the energy these days to hit the next button on your Ipod when its buried in your winter jacket pocket. But for this mix we won't have any of that bullshit. Instead of putting forgettable songs that seem to go on forever, I decided to put two short ass, shit kicking, skull fucking, baby raping and last but not least pussy lickin, songs for your enjoyment. Together these two songs clock in at a whopping 174 seconds. Before you have the opportunity to hit the skip button, they will already be over, so you don't have to worry about straining your main masturbation hand or anything.

Valentine's Day Massacre Compilation- Song 9- Agoraphobic Nosebleed- Unwashed Cock

This is as far as I come ever.
Most everything's nonsense now.
Confusion has replaced amusement.
More worthless wonders of the world to confuse our libido.
I need to sleep not feel.
I'm not there, not here.
An unwashed cock at a point in time
and space where pussy is your asshole
and the hurt is acute.

Valentine's Day Massacre Compilation- Song 10- Genghis Tron- Chapels

Burning through the wedding-
It's confirming, I'm contained.
I'm more my bride's shadow
than a groom is meant to be.
But the bells sing "you're a liar"
as she bares a half-man's fire.

May you all find your wonder of the world this Saturday.

Cheers,

kaw

Murder, Savior!

2009-02-11T20:42:00.010-06:00

Good Evening Friends,

Today is Wednesday, which is hump day for most people, but for us it means the fourth installment to the greatest V-day mix CD ever created. Onwards:

Valentine's Day Massacre Compilation- Song 7- Psyopus- Death, I

Council black answers leading through suicide's curtain. Darkness, answer for this pain I feel. Slivers in my life appeal to this awakening Death, I am drowning in pain. Constrict the treading. Pull me underwater deeper until my back floats to the top circled with chalk, bloated, and drifting along into nothingness. I close my eyes to better listen. I think I hear you whisper, Slit wrists. To explain the deep worthlessness inside of my time spent here waiting. Bridge this pain to your shore across this vast sunless funeral ocean of nothing, drowning in its currents. Drown me in its currents. Murder Savior, murder you're my savior, Murder Savior. I into you confide intimate suicide; I've lost my mind behind this parasite. This life and I collide into thought genocide. Tighten the knot! Then kick me off the chair a dangled sightless stare. Hang here, I wait for fate to free me of despair. My council soon arrives, conquest by suicide, my will is high to die, these bounds untied. Blackness surrounding. Death, I am drowning!

Valentine's Day Massacre Compilation- Song 8- Bodies in the Gears of the Apparatus- A Lubricated Rubber Glove and Pornographic Photos of a Decapitated Chinese Hooker

Rationalism is no equal to romanticism.
A crime of passion.
holding her head under water.
She took notes as I stole her thong so the dame got what was coming to her.
I know that I've got the look,
so no mister with a handle bar mustache can tell me otherwise.
You've got a lot to learn about rock n' roll. God is a bullet.
I had no choice.
I had no way out.
I had to pull the trigger

Word on the street is that the Drummer from Pysopus once tried out in a drumming competition for Limp Biscuit, and won hands down, and then told them to fuck off and joined the jazz infused death metal ridiculousness that is Psyopus. If you listen to Coltrane and then immediately listen to the album "Ideas of Reference" by these guys, you can hear a lot of similarities in song structure, quite amazing, in my book. And not to mention this entire song is hands down one of the most well crafted and one might even be inclined and daring enough to say "Beautiful" songs ever made. You might be thinking to yourself, "How the fuck could a death/grind metal song be beautiful? You, You, You, wretched baby squid beater!" Back in seventh grade, when Emily Batun-Woods gave me my first kiss (I think I used too much tongue), down at Whetstone park, this song came into my head. For years and years I was baffled and had no idea of its relation to me until I actually heard it 11 years later, and then realized the real meaning of life. Now tell me that isn't beautiful! Or maybe it is Coltrane I was thinking of...

For selection numero 8, I am gonna have to come clean: I just may have picked this song due to it's title. I mean, come on! How can you resist a band with 7 words in its title, and then a song by the band with 12 words, and its about decapitated hookers! Thats 19 words in the link for the song! Too bad I once heard from my sources is that the dudes in this band are kind of assholes. But lets put that aside for a second, and remember that A-holes can make good jams, remember Glenn Danzig? If I had to say that one song on this album reminds me of murder, it would be this one, no contest. I don't know what that means, but it sounds good.

In other news, I have to give a big shout out to my main man, Nard Dog Jr. Jr. for the props embedded within his own admirable attempt at wooing the opposite sex through righteous jams, and I am not referring to the band.

Remember friends, treat everyone like you are fucking a hollowed out Silver Back Gorilla skull, who just killed your whole family, which happened to be a clan of Ring-Tailed Lemurs that rescued you as a deserted baby floating in a creek bed in one of those stupid wicker baskets mothers collect or not reason, and raised you like their own child.

kaw

Age Won't Make Us Apathetic!

2009-02-10T21:41:00.004-06:00

Good Evening Friends,

For the third installment of the Valentine's Massacre mix I have chosen two of my favorite chord shredders. And by cord shredders I am referring to the unique ability to pull out your spinal cord in one fellow swoop. For a visual image: Sub Zero Wins

Valentine's Day Massacre Compilation- Song 5- Dillinger Escape Plan- 43% Burnt

Smell that whore
Bring me back
Bring me a brick
Take my bottle
And break it
Pour it all out
I pushed you too far
Self absorb that pity
I want to knock you off your horse
I just feel it
Everything's fine
Spit on yourself
You're so beautiful
Crack and chip off
Like the sun won't
Shine down
Take your medicine like a champ
While that sting can last a million years
Self absorb that utopia
So bad
I just feel it

Valentine's Day Massacre Compilation- Song 6- Ed Gein- Beating a Dead Horse

She's a dead horse.
There's no sense
in beating her into the ground.
She's a dead horse.
Accept it and move on.
No matter how many times
you kick her in the chest
she will not take another breath.
And don't let the twitches fool you.
It's just nerves, it won't last.
There's something newer and better
waiting to take her place.
But you won't move on.
So as you sit here beating a dead horse
we'll be riding circles around you.

On a serious note, Dillinger Escape Plan are quite possibly one of the best live bands I have ever seen. I have images ingrained in my skull of Greg Puciato swinging from the rafters at the Grog Shop in Cleveland trying to kick off the overhead speakers, which in my book = bad ass mother fucker. An no, the band is not named after John Dillinger's erectile problem, where he constantly got stuck inside vagina's, GET YO HEAD OUTTA THE GUTTA! Instead, it is named in homage to his greatest idea: After hearing a whole swarm of cops (swarm= think of the apartment scene in Luc Besson's 1994 classic The Professional when 200 riot police try and stop Jean Reno but fail miserably) were going to be waiting for him outside the theater.So he decided to use the back door to trick those silly fucks, but thats where the whole swarm of cops had originally planned as his escape route, and thus shot the shit out of him. Sad story, I know.

Then there is the always dangerous Ed Gein. Seriously, I can't believe I was able to make it 6 songs into a Valentine's Day mix CD without having a band named after a serial killer. Was it luck? Was it strategy? Did the chicken come before the egg? We shall never know. Regardless, this music does not dress up as a clown to dig up corpses and make trophies out of their bones. Please do not worry. But, it does dress up like a clown to kill other creepy, serial killing clowns (They took out IT years back, and got the city key to Derry, Maine). This might be the only band on this mix that serves a purpose centered around the general good of mankind. Be thankful. This is also the longest song on the album, which is aptly named "It's a shame a family can be torn apart by something so simple as a pack of wild dogs," clocking in at 2:37.

Cheers,

kaw

The Vulture, My Friend Fuck

2009-02-09T22:43:00.007-06:00

Good Evening Friends,

For the next installment I have selected two serious face rippers. Remember that scene in Face Off when John and Nick get their faces cut off and then surgically melded onto the other's face. It is kind of like that, the face ripping, except instead of having your face placed back on a human, the doctors will place your skin on a warthog and then make you watch as the new and improved "Warthog You" makes out with your girlfriend and says "Peaches, I could eat a peach for hours" over and over again. Yeah? I am not kidding.

Valentine's Day Massacre Compilation- Song 3- See You Next Tuesday- Honey, I've Never Had Sex That Wasn't Awkward

So my friend
Put aside your ignorance for just a moment
And try to understand what you are doing
Put yourself in my place
You might see how disgusting you have become
My friend: the vulture
And when it happens to you she won't be there
My friend: the vulture
And when it happens to you she won't be there
My friend, fuck you
You will get yours
Armegedon is in flight
Hell is here
I am coming

Valentine's Day Massacre Compilation- Song 4- Circle Of Dead Children- It's a Bloody Day When You Get Your Head Nailed to a Cross

We were not born into sin
We were born into the ignoble and desperate grasp of thoughtless
traditionalism
shaped into the guise of human nature
Human nature is a self-fulfilling slaughterhouse
and we must resist the simplicity of existing as a simple human
A shred of salvation is the mission of the pigs
The trusting pigs and the man-made ghost
Linked by susceptibility and ignorance
Morality is synthetic
Human nature is pathetic
Embrace the mythos
Embrace the lie
Morality is synthetic
Human nature is pathetic
You want your cross and you will receive it
A cross for every pig Squeal on the cross as I drive a single spike through
your skull
Hammering as the pigs of Faith squeal
The prayers of tradition silenced by the howls of crucified holy
Destroy the mythos
Destroy the lie
Destroy the pigs
Hammer out life
Hammering - bleeding the pigs
Hammering - bleeding the pigs

Number two was a heavy dose of a heavy dose of hell, so I thought we needed something short and sweet to follow, you know, tickle the balls with your tongue while you are down there. But what is more impressive, is how much vocal range the Michigan native, Fox, can dish out within his blood curdling screams. At one second he is he is up in the banshee mode screaming, and you are like, "dude, this dude can really get up there," and then BAM SUCKA, while the band hits a crunching breakdown, Fox delivers some pretty decent growls that remind me of Christian Bale when Batman in the Dark Knight. Superb. Also, their band name spells out CUNT, so whats not to like?

Then for number four, I had to go back to the basic death metal charm, pig squeals and grunts to get the job done. I once had a dream that I was wrestling a half wolf/half T-rex in a 1000 square foot deep pit in Patagonia with small tiny razor blades completely covering the edges. For a long time I was kicking the shit out of the monster, I mean, I have a mean "Tiger Knee" and sometimes my elbows turn into machine guns... but halfway through the ultimate battle, I realized the locals had used dead children to dig out the hole, which then I proceeded to puke, and the Rexwolf gave me one roundhouse kick to the face and I was out for good... and I then proceeded to wake up fully covered in Slime. Awesome Dream.

Hammer and Bleed those pigs my friends,

kaw

The only Anti-Valentine that will actually work! (only $7.99 plus s&h and you also will receive a free used Peter Pan toothbrush!)

2009-02-08T23:14:00.004-06:00

Good Evening Friends,

Ok, if you have not been keeping up with Mr. Minich's (AKA Eat Dicks, AKA Nard Dog Jr. Jr.) blog over the past 9 days, he has been releasing a new punk rock "love song" to download every day to put on a V-Day mix, which induces instant butt pleasuring and cock snorkeling, etc.

Well, this gift from Dane's cd collection to your Penis' and/or Vagina's happiness inspired me so much that I decided to steal his idea and release my own Valentine's mix cd. But since Dane will already capture those of you who will be boning on the 14th, I decided to reach out and provide my own gift to all the others, a compilation of Death Metal and Grindcore songs that will make every woman or man's heart melt right out of their chest, and also punch the back of your head in with a sledgehammer 150 times. So if you don't think a punk rock love mix will get the job done, but are not sure about this one either, here is a list of people who may find this useful:

A. Those who have girlfriends but want to break up with them so they don't feel weird about not having bought them flowers or chocolate, or any type of shiny things to place on fingers or around necks.
B. Those who want to annoy everyone in the office who got flowers, chocolate, or any type of shiny things to place on fingers or around necks.
C. Those who cry when listening to sappy music before crying during a sappy movie while eating chocolate you sent to yourself at the office to look as though you have a secret admirer.
D. Those who want to test if their significant other is "The One," and know that if they can listen to this entire album from start to finish and not run away screaming for the police, then they are a keeper!
E. All of the above

I will be releasing two songs every day until the BIG DAY, so fasten your seat belts and go get some popcorn with butter made from elephant semen, cause this mix will blow you away (duh with sawed off shotguns, of course). And since you cannot actually hear the beautiful lyrics underneath those high pitched Banshee Screams or Pig Growls, I have been so kind to post the lyrics for you. Onward onto the songs:

Valentine's Day Massacre Compilation- Song 1- Dying Fetus- Kill Your Mother, Rape Your Dog

"kill your mother and rape your dog!
fuck these corporations and their fucking record stores,
I don't want my fucking paycheck feeding money whores
these bastards flood the market with their fabricated shit,
and laugh as this pathetic fucking music gets them rich...
stay the fuck, right out of my life,
I don't need your, fucking advice,
you don't know what, our shit is all about,
so don't even try to figure it out,
fuck your spice girls and your fucking pearl jam,
its all a bunch a shit, I say, fuck it,
fuck your dave matthews and your fucking rem,
you god damned bitch, fucking clueless"

Valentine's Day Massacre Compilation- Song 2- Tony Danza Tapdance Extravaganza- 5 Deep On Charlie

"This
This has opened my eyes
Pushed now far away
Remains the same
Love persisted
Crazed thoughts away
Time shows all ways
This
Bring me
Bring me forth I
I show this lean
To watch alone
And find you
This place shows light
Judge not less you will be
I walk this path
Bring me
I walk this path
I show this lean"

Its imperative to start a perfect mix cd with something to perk the ears and catch their attention/desire to listen to the rest of the album. So instead of wasting time, I had to start with the all-time Dying Fetus classic, which takes me back all the way back to Sophomore year of college when I was still punching baby squids for fun. Also, the title alone is just genius and scholarly. I heard once that the men behind the instruments in this band all graduated with Phd's from Harvard but after watching all three extended versions of the Lord of the Ring's Trilogy in one sitting, decided to play death metal instead. It happens to the best of us.

I selected the Tony Danza song second because in every good mix, the second song has to be either better or at least just as good as the first song, so it can set the entire tone for the album. There is nothing better to set up a Massacre album than this face ripping five-tet from Tennessee. While wandering the streets at night, I hear bums describing this album to other bums, always saying something near the likes of "Yo Dude, its like sleeping outside in sub-zero temperature and then being bashed in the nose 1027 5/8 times with an alligator that was cast in iron by an Ethiopian Witch Doctor. And normally I wouldn't trust statements from beggar's but seriously, this is the only way you can describe the amazingness that will be playing through your head phones while you will now be wandering the streets at night talking to bums about TDTE. Make sure to pay your respects and give your quarters to the homeless, they need to do laundry too!

With Much Care,

kaw

Pink Couch Sessions Sounds Like a Porno Website

2009-01-25T14:13:00.004-06:00

I have had a super huge man crush on Paul Baribeau for several years now... and this cover of a Leonard Cohen song extends my boner to its limit.

This is Paul:

This is his jam:

http://www.ifyoumakeit.com/video/paul-baribeau/chelsea-hotel-no-2/

Also make sure to check out the American War song on the main page. Matt lives in Kent and is from No Target Audience (and now Sidekicks) local fame. I really dig his solo stuff, a lot.

Also Also, here is a list of some other favorites I suggest checking out if you have time to kill:

Riot Before- 5 to 9
Defiance Ohio- Hair Pool
Bridge and Tunnel- Call To The Comptroller's Office
Lemuria- Pants
Andrew Jackson Jihad- Sense, Sensibility
Good Luck- Stars Were Exploding
Andy Cook- Scarlet Rose
Ghost Mice- Gone Gone Gone
Eric Ayotte- Mr. and Mrs. Everyone

Here's to swimmin' with bow legged women,

kaw

Of Only Becoming Weather

2009-01-23T11:53:00.008-06:00

Good Afternoon Fellow Friends,

Today's mood here at Starcom Worldwide has become what I can only describe using the following 3 adjectives:

1. de-spond-ent [di-spon-duhnt]: feeling or showing profound hopelessness, dejection, discouragement, or gloom.
2. dole-ful [dohl-fuhl]: Sorrowful; Mournful; Melancholy
3. lu-gu-bri-ous [loo-goo-bree-uhs, -gyoo-]: Mournful, dismal, or gloomy, especially in an affected, exaggerated, or unrelieved manner.

The company laid off about 10% yesterday, ranging across all media types and job positions. This is the way they conduct lay-offs (which is probably standard in most corps but regardless, shitty): They come over to your cube and ask you to join them for a short meeting. While you are in the office, someone grabs your coat and bag, and they escort you out of the building secretly. You then have to schedule a time with HR to come get the rest of your belongings during non-office hours. No one in the office is told who is laid off during the 5 hour "Blitz Session" so the only way to discern if the person is gone for good, is if they do not return to their desk after an hour or so (especially since this was conducted during lunch hours). The office was filled with teary-eyed people walking from cube to cube to see which of their friends and team members survived.

Nonetheless, 4 out of the 9 people from my digital billing team were axed yesterday, including two supervisors and three people who have been with the company for 10+ years. Don't ask me how I survived, as I am just a temporary associate, the company would not even have to provide me with severance or unemployment. So thus, I figured myself and the other temps would be an obvious target for termination. But alas, here I am, writing from my desk located in an aisle with 5 empty cubicles.

My New Years Resolution may have been to "Give No Fucks in 2009." But, in this case, I cannot appropriately apply this feeling towards those who took the meat slabs to the face yesterday. To help everyone feel at least some empathy and to envision what those who lost their jobs may be going through this afternoon, please reference the following:

And please pardon my sentimentality to the situation, but I thought I would share my journal entry, turned poem, from last night.

Of Only Becoming Weather

Pay no attention to luck
as with all things that come and go
it is just another dried leaf
tumbling across the lawn
into the cold tough cement of a one way street.

One day a man is fired from his job
and the next he finds a wool pea coat
on a street corner and puts it on,
snug, the sleeves not quite
reaching his wrists. But this is what
he keeps! Even though, just the second
before, he was waiting for the night chill
to dip below 15. So his body could stiffen
and there would be nothing left of chance,
but those silly snow flakes trying oh so hard
to find the ground and melt again.

I tell you, do not think twice about luck
or anything that comes with it.
Just be satisfied, that in any instance
our bodies can choose to melt,
or with the frozen snow lining the sidewalks,
decide to stay just a little while longer.

May all of you stay mystical and warm,

KAW

Post Numero Uno (What's "post" in Spanish?)

2009-01-15T22:36:00.004-06:00

Good Evening Fellow Friends,

So I have decided to embark on writing one of these bad boys. Typically, since I spend about eight hours a day on the computer at work, when I get home I tend to stay away from the old desktop. But, saddened by the fact I rarely read everyone's daily thoughts and happenings, I thought maybe me writing one of these would help us stay in touch. I know, I know, this is all sappy bullshit typically used in a first post, but it is true, I miss too many people dearly.

I have decided to use this to document the strange lives we all lead, but also to post some of my writing. Since it was about 25 below with wind chill in the city today I have decided to leave a poem about winter I wrote a few weeks ago. Feel free to leave whatever comments, critiques, hate mail you would like.

The Winter's First Freezing Rain

The pale dark evening settles in a freeze.

The rooftops are glisteners, ornaments of the moon.

Maybe those lucky window seaters

of planes turning towards O'Hare,

can see this sparkle, the wink of the apartments.

These tree limbs in the cold breeze,

icicles dancing across the mirrored shingles.

I am content just watching the smoke

pile out of every pipe. So thick and pillow like

these goose feathers rising from the chimney's,

to be pulled, instantaneous into a sideways frenzy.

How much this is like our breath!

Exhaled to be swirled in the bitter and the frozen.

Yet these clouds are always, and swirling always.

Also, for your viewing pleasure, Dane's countdown on our bathroom mirror documenting the number of days my coat has not been stolen.

May all of you stay mystical and warm.
-KAW