Monthly Archives: August 2019

Another long day with not nearly enough words on pages to show for it.  I suppose there’s still a little time left.

N.P.: “(Let’s Go) Smoke Some Pot” – Dash Rip Rock

I try not to hold entire groups of people in contempt and ill-regard, but honest to Christ, dear reader, I have never seen anyone in a minivan do anything right on the road.  It’s as if it occurred to them one day, “I am a really shit driver…I need a larger vehicle so I can take up even more of the road with my remarkably unskillful driving.”  DIckheads.

N.P.: “Y’all Motherfuckers Need Jesus” – The Goddamn Gallows

I knew well before I ate it that I’d put too much ghost pepper powder in the soup.  Holy shit, dear reader.  I did finish the bowl, however.  Also, not coincidentally, finished a whole thing of mango lemonade.  And still managed to get a couple of really good pages down.

I keep waking up around 0300.  This morning was 0246.  Like awake.  As in done sleeping.  As in time to go do…what?

N.P.: “Barra Barra” – Rachid Taha

Almost got killed twice today.  But I didn’t.  Also briefly considered murdering two people today.  But I didn’t.  So I guess it all works out in the end.

I suppose I should do some writing.

N.P.: “I’m Shipping Up to Boston” – Dropkick Murphys

So, the problem with Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Honey is that it tastes delicious.  Like candy.  Like schnapps: it doesn’t taste like booze, so you drink it because it’s lovely, and then you get up to go pee and you fall on your ass.  That’s the problem.  Other than that, it’s fucking brilliant.



N.P.: “Flood I” – Sisters of Mercy

I don’t know what the hell’s going on anymore.  Days are just a daze these days, and the nights are truly weird.  Restless.  Inconsistent.  At least this disgusting summer is winding down.

I had a look at a book that was about as close to a “competing” book, the closest I’ve seen to what I’m trying to do.  I was pleased to note that I would (and am) doing everything totally differently.  And better.  It’s not the author’s fault…he has limited perspective.  But I’m feeling a bit better about mine tonight.  Which continues apace.  Or maybe not.  I don’t know that either.  Time is doing such strange things lately.

N.P.: “Ashes to Ashes” – Faith No More

Libby: “We are in limbo now, Henry.  We are outside the mainstream.  We are in purgatory.  We are lost.”

Henry: “Libby, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill myself.”

Libby: “We are testing our limits.  We are in the pits. ”

I don’t know why, dear reader, but that little snippet of dialogue (from the movie Primary Colors) has been going through my head sporadically rather a lot lately.  I know I’m always going on about needing an assistant, but I think I Need an assistant.  With a capital N.  And italics.  Yep.  This is serious.

N.P.: “Heirate mich” – Rammstein

“I am the punishment of God. If you had not committed great sins, God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you.” ~ Genghis Khan

Goddamn right.  Uncle Genghis knew what he was talking about.  He was a party guy, and we could use some more people like him these days.  At least I certainly could.  The Agenda is progressing, but not nearly as quickly as I’d like.  And not nearly as quickly as it could if I had a few more like-minded minds helping push things forward.  But it’s nothing I’m not used to.  I got this.

N.P.: “The Great Chinggis Khaan” – The HU

These 19-hour days are getting to be a bit much.  Time for the weekly medically induced coma.  I need to spend some quality time with Hypnos and Morpheus.

N.P.: “Rakim” – Dead Can Dance

Still alive, still kicking, still vertical (for the moment).  Oriented x3…that’s about it.  The Struggle, it seems, dear reader, is endless.  Yet still, we fight on.  For The Cause.

N.P.: “My TV and You” – VAST