Late Night Playlist

Sorry, nothing profound to post yet, just my late night writing song list. Should have something good up tomorrow!

Christopher Cross - Arthur's Theme
Fear - I Don't Care About You
The Primitives - Crash ('95 Mix)
Meat Puppets - Backwater
Iron Maiden - Fear of the Dark
Black Sabbath - Fluff
Dio - Last in Line
Steve Urkel - Do the Urkel
Fear - I love Living in the City
Kleenex/Liliput - Hitchike
The Raincoats - Lola
The Doors - Peace Frog/Blue Sunday
GG Allin - Suck My Ass it Smells
Tiny Tim - Living in the Sunlight, Loving in the Moonlight
GG Allin - Sleeping in my Piss
ELO - Don't Bring Me Down
Bobby Helms - Fraulein
Anti-Nowhere League - Streets of London
The Frogs - Homos
The Dickies - Free Willy
R.E.M. - Bad Day
The White Stripes - In the Cold, Cold Night

Love Song

I see you standing by my back gate
You think I'm gonna let you in
You think I'm not used to being abused
You think I've never tasted sin
Oh baby baby I'm not so innocent

I see you standing by my front porch
Soaking wet from the rain
You think I'm some little frightened boy
You think I'm not used to pain
I've been there and I've done everything
I'm not going down that road again

I see you walk in through my back door
You think you slick you think you're sly
You may use your body to try and tempt me
But I see through all your lies
I just ain't that kind a guy

I see you there in my bedroom
Spread eagle on my bed
But Satan ain't gonna get me
I know whats going through your head
The price of sin is pain and death

I see you heading for my front door
I see you smile and turn away
Lord forgive for what I've done
I just couldn't turn away
It must have been the look in her eyes
Or the curve of her breasts
Jesus heal me and forgive my sin
For I have made an awful mess

Alone and Drowning

The lady at the end of the bar buys you a drink
You take it and sit down next to her
She's pretty plain looking but not ugly
A few beers will take care of that
You swig your poison and make meaningless small talk
Both of you waiting for the alcohol
Even in the dim light of the dingy downtown bar
You can see that she has very pretty eyes
The green of her irises remind you of a dress your older sister had
Back when you were a kid
You don't tell her this, of course
She tells you her name is Deidre
And that she works for a small publishing company
Proofreading manuscripts all day
You're pretty sure she's lying
Though you can't explain how you know that
You tell her some things about yourself
That are partially lies
She seems to buy them
Not that it matters much anyways
And then a slow song comes on the jukebox
And you both get up to dance
You spin clumsily around
You trying to lead
But her usually taking over
And as you spin you look at the other couples
Who've made some small human connection tonight
And none of them have eyes
And they're all grinning
Wide with sharp teeth in their mouths
Like they want to eat you and are just waiting for the chance
And then you're fucking Deidre in a hotel room
Or Luann
Or whatever her name was
Sliding in and out of her
Even though you can't feel it
You can't feel anything
She's lying there staring up at you
Motionless
And suddenly you're in a hospital waiting room
Fucking a large doll with button eyes
And it's mouth stitched shut
With x's
Like when a cartoon character dies
There's people all around you
Sitting not noticing what you're doing
And then it all fades away and you're underwater
Reaching for the light above you
Your hands trying to reach the unreachable
You're alone and drowning
Your lungs burning with stale air
You'd better hope this is all a dream
Hell might not be as hot as people say it is.

400th Post

The night moved slowly like an old man trying to get down a flight of stairs
Like it knew that it's time was up but it was incapable of moving any faster till dawn
Emmy was sick again
Emmy was always sick
Up till the day she died it seemed like
Poor girl
She was only 9 when she finally went
I remember when she was born
The sickly little thing
2 weeks premature
It was a miracle she survived
For as long as she did
Poor girl
Most of my memories of her are of me holding her in my arms
Rocking her as she screamed from the pain of colic
Or sitting in a rocking chair
Holding her while she slept
Fitfully, her dreams affected by fever
My poor yellow haired Emmy
I got her to sleep that night
She was eight
She had the flu
In a year she'd get Pneumonia
And that'd be it
I got her to sleep
Finally
I walked to the window
Past the dying embers in the fire place
And I looked out at the full moon
Glowing in the night sky
Surrounded by a hundred million stars
And I listened to the wind slap at the cabin
That I had built with my own hands
All for her
All so that she'd have a place
To grow up in
To live in when she got older
The wind's shrill whistle outside
The night's lonely song
I had protected her from the night
And the rain
And the cold
I had done everything I could
But I was still powerless
And I turned and looked back at her lying there
In her bed
The dying fire casting a soft orange glow on her face
I knew she wasn't going to last long in this world
I had always known it
Looking back at the moon
With the same skull face that had always mocked me since I was a child
I decided that after Emmy finally went
I was going to burn the cabin down

It's a Dead Man's Party...

Who could ask for more?

You're invited to a party tomorrow night at the Fairview pet cemetery at the end of Brownsville Road. Festivities start at 9 o clock and go till dawn. Invite any other ghouls, werewolves, vampires, or zombies you want but make sure that if you bring a zombie that he or she isn't so rotted that they're falling apart. Picking up body parts makes cleaning up after a bitch you know? And of course, sparkle vampires will not be invited and any seen will be killed on smell.
Food will be provided, fresh body parts both human animal and we have a vampire that was a bartender in Vegas before he died who knows how to make killer blood cocktails and other assorted nasty drinks, however, if you want to capture a prom queen or corporate executive to share, we all know how tasty those are!
This is a masked occasion so wear your most ghoulish looking costume. Oh, but no PE teacher costumes please. We all know how easy they are to trap, kill, and skin but please put a little more effort into your outfits this year. There was too many of those damn things walking around last year and they started to creep out some of our guests!
Unmasking will be when the full moon hits it's zenith. Be prepared for a few other surprises as well, this will be the most ghoulishly blood soaked box social that all you undead lovelies will be talking about the entire year!

Your Master of Ceremonies,
The Head of Dirty Dan with the Body of Slutty Fran

PS The band we had last year was killed by a vampire hunter, so if anyone wants to bring your own instruments to play, please do. The more ghoulishly hideous the sound, the better!

Another True High School Story

Are you getting tired of these yet?

I loved being on the Cross Country team when I was in high school. I made the best friends I've ever had, got to run with and hang out with good looking girls (when you're a freshman hanging out with senior girls, that's a huge thing), and it was one of the few sports I was actually good at. Another underlying reason that I never really admitted to anyone, especially myself, was that it filled my PE requirement and I got to skip gym class. I only had to take it once in seventh grade. That was enough.

I know that physical fitness is an important thing, what with the entirety of the country getting too fat to even move to get more food, necessitating the invention of robots to shove burgers and fries down their gullets on demand lest they eat their own hands off, but ask just about anyone and they'll tell you that gym class is a fucking nightmare. Everyone hates gym class. The only ones that don't hate gym class are the mongoloid retard alpha males that get to run around and yell and throw things and act like mongoloid retards with very little supervision. They love that shit. No ones really trying to teach them anything, making them confused and irritated with concepts like "words" and "numbers" and how fucking magnets work and they get to pick on people weaker and smarter than they are with encouragement from an authority figure. Said authority figure is usually a retard alpha male himself, maybe just a step above mongoloid. Sometimes not. The female gym teachers are usually butch pseudo-lesbians that love their job because they get to watch high school girls run around in shorts and get naked. I might be exaggerating with stereotypes, but there's truth behind every cliche is all I'm saying.

Our gym "teacher" fit the stereotype pretty well. He also taught health class but you could tell by looking at him that he wasn't very bright. His nickname was "Gumby" probably because he was obscenely tall and had to bend slightly to get in most doorways, but there was probably a stupider reason. Only the MRAMs called him Gumby to his face without him getting pissed. I suppose there was some kin-ship there. Most of those guys would either end up working factory jobs or become gym teachers themselves someday. He was once in their shoes: telling stupid sex jokes, yelling at random intervals in the locker room, grabbing each others nuts in the shower, and attacking the asses of the fat kids with towels as they changed. Yes, he's been there and he knows how glorious it all was, so he looks the other way except when he has to assert himself as the king alpha male by making everyone run laps. This is the perfect place for him and he'll keep it. Till the day he taunts a gay kid for being gay and loses his job and gets picked up by another school far away in an endless cycle. And when he finally retires he'll look back on the full life that he has led running a zoo for MRAMs and their prey. He'll die happy knowing the hundreds of kids he has scarred for life and won't understand why the fires of Hell are suddenly burning the hairs on his ass. Such is the fate of the gym teacher.

Um, sorry, I got a bit off track there. Anyways, other than running around like an idiot, having to suffer through changing and showering with a bunch of other dudes (something which I wouldn't have to go through again till I joined the military and went to basic training), and getting my ass beat and my glasses broken in dodge ball, there's only a few things that have really stuck in my mind from that one year of mindless stupidity and brutality. One was a boy who I'll call...Cletus.

Cletus's family was poor. Dirt poor. Even the poor kids made fun of him for being poor. I know nothing about what his private life was like but I'm guessing it was sort of like Kenny's on South Park. Without all the death. He was skinny and malnourished, his teeth were a lovely shade of yellowish brown, and when you talked to him you had to remember to not use big words or he'd get easily confused. Oh and he smelled. Bad. A heady mixture of musty dirt and cigarette smoke emanated from the very center of his being. I have a hunch that he might have come out of the womb smelling like that, it seemed so natural. Being at the intelligence level to know how to function in society but not much else, Cletus sought the companionship and the acceptance of the MRAMs. He might have fit in except that he wasn't an alpha male. Still, he did his best to repeat stupid sex jokes even if he didn't understand them, and yell nonsense at random intervals, and make fun of Gumby till one day it all came crashing down on his poor lice ridden head. One day he was changing clothes and stripped down to his massively skid mark streaked underwear. Someone yelled
"Hey, look at Cletus's underwear!
Someone else yelled
"Yeah, he's got crusties!"
Pretty soon almost everyone was pointing and laughing and the poor kid put his clothes back on and wandered off to cry alone. From then on everyone called him Crusty, all the way through high school it followed him. I think eventually he even got used to it. I saw a lot of people call him that to his face and he wouldn't even flinch. Maybe he just pushed the origin of it out his mind and was glad that people were calling him anything that wasn't ugly or stupid or poor. That wasn't the saddest thing I'd seen that involved Cletus though. The saddest thing was the time I was standing outside the bio lab under the overhang with some friends and we saw him going through the gutters looking for cigarette butts to smoke. It was raining out. Not hard, but even a drizzle would make looking for used smokes on the ground even more pointless than it already was. And sad. So very very sad.

New Blog, Looking for Contributers

The Amateur Night Art Show is up, even though there's nothing much there now. I'm looking for contributers so if you would like to work with some other artists (and me) to post up content, please email me at youngmancane_13@hotmail.com and I'll add your name to the list of people that can post up content.

Thanks!

My Thirteen Favorite Music Videos

I'm currently working on a story I hope you guys will all like. It's another fictional high school story, I have no idea why I tend to write those. In the mean time I wanted to post something up, so here's a list! I've posted some of these before, I hope you don't mind seeing them again!

In no particular order:

Pixies - Velouria
Pixies - Here Comes Your Man
Infamously, the whole band hated music videos and refused to make them, but they were forced to produce a few. The two above represent their best attempts at making anti-music videos. They were so successful with Velouria that MTV refused to play it! It's my favorite one of their videos, a brilliant piece of anti-entertainment if there ever was one.

Disturbed - Land of Confusion
Pearl Jam - Do the Evolution
Todd McFarlane must not have a very cheery out look on life, judging by these two sort of similar videos that bear his stamp. The Pearl Jam one is better in my humble opinion, the Disturbed video sort of seems like a warm up. Taken together though, they represent two of the bleakest treaties on humanity ever produced.

The Birthday Massacre - Blue
The Birthday Massacre - Looking Glass
I fucking love The Birthday Massacre. Their music is all sorts of beautiful and creepy and their music videos are incredible. Blue is a shockingly eerie work of art, and I have a thing for creepy dolls, so it might actually be my favorite music video ever.
A new video is currently in the works for a song off their upcoming album. I can't wait!

Tom Waits - I Don't Wanna Grow Up
The Ramones - I Don't Wanna Grow Up
Tom Waits did the original but both versions are fucking incredible. For the longest time I had no idea The Ramones version was a cover, it fits them so well!
Both videos are great too, Tom is insane like always and I love the art in The Ramones video. If anyone has any idea who did the animation, put it in the comments!

Talking Heads - Road to Nowhere
Talking Heads - Once in a Lifetime
Oh brilliant weirdness, how I love thee. If the sight of David Bryne flopping around on the ground like a puppet on strings or Tina Weymouth and Jerry Harrison dancing on the side of a desert road doesn't make you love this band, then I believe you never will.

Nirvana - In Bloom
There's something about seeing Nirvana as a clean cut 1960s TV safe rock group that just cracks me the Hell up every time I watch this one. People forget how goofy the band could be, especially when they were mocking the music industry itself.

Peaches - Fuck the Pain Away
Another one that cracks me the Hell up. Brilliant use of probably public domain Andy Griffith, brilliantly stupid song, just brilliant all around. Peaches = Brilliant.

Erasure - Always
This song is the gayest song ever. If you can find me a gayer song or a gayer band, please put a link in the comments and I will give you a cookie. Plus the guy rhymes open with itself like five times in the first verse of the song, how can you not love that! The video isn't quite as gay, but it is incredibly campy. As a straight guy that loves his camp I can give this video nothing less than three feather boas and a pair of fishnet stockings. Whatever that means.

I'm going to try and post on a regular schedule again, so look for some more stuff tomorrow night! Peace!

I Suddenly Felt Like Writing Again

A True Story

When I was in eighth grade I had a science class. The whole thing was set up so that instead of it actually being interesting, we just read out of our textbooks for an hour. The textbooks in question were incredibly old and most of them were falling apart. There were whole chunks of mine that I could just pull right out. The whole thing was incredibly boring and pointless and no one really learned anything, especially since it was essentially trying to teach us the same shit we had already learned in fifth grade, not that anyone really cared anyways.
One strange past time that sprung up and seemingly had been going on for awhile, was defacing our cruddy textbooks. It must have been going on for years since every book I saw had crude renderings of penises and boobs and retarded captions drawn on a large majority of the pictures. It was stupid but at least it made class time go by faster when you could flip through and find a previously innocent drawing of a boy leaning over a girl that now showed him trying to rail her with the same smile on both their faces.
I remember one in particular was a drawing of a boy cleaning out a bathtub. Some wit had drawn an erect cock onto the boy's pants and had scribbled in the caption: "I wonder what bro is doing?"
It was kind of a curious thing to me. It was retarded, but did it have some sort of meaning? Obviously, the sharp wit that had set about defacing school property had tried to imply some sort of homosexual incest fantasy, but why hadn't he just written something like "I want to fuck my brother" or "My brother has a hot cock" or something straight forward like that. Maybe he was trying to sound smart by implying rather than just putting it right out there or maybe he was afraid that if he got caught writing the word "fuck" he'd get in worse trouble. But then again, he did draw a cock.
I probably puzzled too much over it, it was probably made by the same type of person that thought he could say "spanked my monkey" in front of the teachers and they wouldn't know what he meant. I knew quite a few of those guys, sadly.

They got new textbooks a couple years after that. I suppose they were better in a way, but the fun of pulling out pages and scribbling dirty sex jokes on something the school owned while having the risk of getting caught be pretty low was gone.
I'm not promoting vandalism all I'm saying is that when you're stuck all day in a place you can't stand listening to stuff you couldn't give two shits about, you take your cheap thrills where you can.
Being a teenager sucks.