"Oh Gosh, you sweet thing, you must've been stuck out there in the rain all day!" Mrs. Williams was a cat lover. 45 with long brunette hair and a fancy for Velvet blouses, she knew the windy city was not such a place for a striped stray-- Not one such as Tommy Tucker the cat, at least!
He had been traveling for a month and two days. Kansas, Missouri, a strange loop following the howling of feline pussy in heat and derailed by the trails of fresh salmon by the dumpsters or yummy leftovers in suburban garbage cans. Alongside the raccoons he would scower through trash bins, leaving residents rightfully pissed by each morning with the mess that would have to be gathered up and re-bagged, but Tommy wouldn't have to be there to take the heat! Once a farm cat living off mice and nestling in the haystacks, he thought best to up and leave after growing weary of being chased off by the mean 'ol farmer and his hussie bitch wife whom would shatter poor Tommy's ears with her demonic howls. "Geyt yerself up on outta here you mangy bagg'a fur!" He took fine advice from those very words and was quite tired of the same sluts he would bury into each night and dickhead dogs that would howl like muscle heads and it wasn't until that very leap of fate that Tommy would see his first river, or grow fond of the same very scraps of luxury mentioned earlier that humans would consider leftovers. Sure he would miss the pure trip of watching the windmill spin circles or the entertainment of batting around the grass snakes and letting them dangle between his teeth, or the possums, skunks and squirrels which he would always talk it up with, but his welcome was stale like the sips of the dirty mud puddle. Hell, even would even moreso miss the fine quality catnip that he would get fucked up on every evening, but for every will there is a way. Now, he did not know any other cats named Will, but he found his own way anyhow.
He made sure to eat heavily the night before giving the place the 'ol "see ya later, suckers" and fed his belly with two field mice, a bucket of water and some lovely shards of grass to clear his digestive system.
That is all of this tale for now. To be continued?? What will Tommy's adventure will consist of? Will the story ever get finished??
Thursday, May 28, 2009
In the AM Juggling tasks
4:57am. Good morning!? Soon I'll have a handful
of songs up, each coming from a different project. Right
now I'm looking for film producers and those interested in low
budget visual arts to start working on some "gritty fluff."
Most notably, a collection of short stories all pretty much
clashing together. But that's a far-from-now idea. The end result
usually always comes out as a creature of it's own, taking it's own
turns and personifications, establishing double-meanings often
accidentally, so I'll see where it's all headed when it gets there.
"Freelance your ass off!" Well, I am. It is so hard to try not to laugh
when pulled over by a bike cop, especially when you, as well, are
on a bicycle.
This interview is very hopeful and interesting for me personally.
Then again, if I could shove recommendations down people's throats all day, Days would turn into years with the articles, interviews and interpretations I am lured into.
Right now I am sitting down, listening over the "Soundtrack" themed album that I have on and off been slopping noises over noises and swaying one song into another. Sometimes I will listen to it and it will really draw me in. As compared to some of my other songs, that I will get sick of so easily and quickly, tossing them into that giant scrap bin. Music will change your mood, hell, it can change your day, and that is something that must be taken into high regards and consideration. As for any artist, or craftsmen, or anybody really.
There are so many tall steel stoplight poles. The steel poles all have fliers ripped down and bits and pieces of paper from art or upcoming shows that are seen like broken shards. The gucky tape aftermath. Or the billions of staples left from the outer skin of wood on the telephone poles. Cities armed with grey boxes against the walls. Think of the message of intent here. I won't even say it, but think of the message of intent and dehumanization that comes off whereas what the goal of "art" really is for those things that do not get torn down. All in all, I was going to compare that to the accepted status of adversive arts praised high and low, placed high and low, and the impact it has on courage, questionability and feeling.
Ramble,ramble,ramble, these words are best left for the notepages. Basically I am just exhaling between projects.
Here comes the sun, out the side of my window.
A couple of writings next time, and I will try and gather together some stale photos.
of songs up, each coming from a different project. Right
now I'm looking for film producers and those interested in low
budget visual arts to start working on some "gritty fluff."
Most notably, a collection of short stories all pretty much
clashing together. But that's a far-from-now idea. The end result
usually always comes out as a creature of it's own, taking it's own
turns and personifications, establishing double-meanings often
accidentally, so I'll see where it's all headed when it gets there.
"Freelance your ass off!" Well, I am. It is so hard to try not to laugh
when pulled over by a bike cop, especially when you, as well, are
on a bicycle.
This interview is very hopeful and interesting for me personally.
Then again, if I could shove recommendations down people's throats all day, Days would turn into years with the articles, interviews and interpretations I am lured into.
Right now I am sitting down, listening over the "Soundtrack" themed album that I have on and off been slopping noises over noises and swaying one song into another. Sometimes I will listen to it and it will really draw me in. As compared to some of my other songs, that I will get sick of so easily and quickly, tossing them into that giant scrap bin. Music will change your mood, hell, it can change your day, and that is something that must be taken into high regards and consideration. As for any artist, or craftsmen, or anybody really.
There are so many tall steel stoplight poles. The steel poles all have fliers ripped down and bits and pieces of paper from art or upcoming shows that are seen like broken shards. The gucky tape aftermath. Or the billions of staples left from the outer skin of wood on the telephone poles. Cities armed with grey boxes against the walls. Think of the message of intent here. I won't even say it, but think of the message of intent and dehumanization that comes off whereas what the goal of "art" really is for those things that do not get torn down. All in all, I was going to compare that to the accepted status of adversive arts praised high and low, placed high and low, and the impact it has on courage, questionability and feeling.
Ramble,ramble,ramble, these words are best left for the notepages. Basically I am just exhaling between projects.
Here comes the sun, out the side of my window.
A couple of writings next time, and I will try and gather together some stale photos.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
But who is holding the photo of the photo!?
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
05/05/2009 Feed Every Soul
This song has literally just been finished and is immediately up for download,
and will eventually be on one of the many releases I am working on.
I would say that the last few days have inspired this song, but it'd be
more suitable to say that it is the last twenty one years. Hopefully the
message will taken positively, as it is yourself that needs to change before
the world does.. Something I never really heavily considered until looking
at some of my past actions or inactions.
Anyway, download the song here 3.54 mb
Lyrics:
Each footstep forward sunk into the ground like a boulder
As sweat dripped from my cheek and I checked over my shoulder.
My pockets rattled from change, this felt like part two
Of what is this and what the hell am I supposed to do.
I’ve noticed myself taking many unknown paths
Hoping for better answers, but winding up in traps.
And I’ve noticed myself repeating all the same mistakes
Some times I swear it’s all a dream about to break.
Sometimes trust seems harder when you can’t trust yourself.
But to learn from yourself will bring you out of inner-hell,
And mistakes go repeated because everyone’s so accustomed
To follow that path they’ve fallen through… The tough one.
If we can learn from ourselves, and each thing that caused regret
Then we can make a better life and wouldn’t vote for presidents.
If we could feed every soul and get creative once a day
Then we could think ourselves to wonders in which we’d be amazed.
And how many people today have gone without a meal?
What number of people had been senselessly killed?
This is a wake up call to those here and to myself
If you can’t change your own life then you’ll never change anybody else.
I know we’re pushed to get angry and point fingers at each other
While we continue unhealthy practice of slowly sinking under.
It’s no wonder cold-hearted hate preachers convince us all to kill
We believe it’s necessary, we hate our presence and pay our bills.
We bitch of slow jobs that don’t require any skills
Yet we have the choice, to leave at our free will.
I walked further up the road as water dripped towards the drain
Wondering why we’ve always been disgusted by the rain.
When I realized where to look upon the things I blamed
I saw to change myself so things could rearrange.
I saw to change myself because you can’t ignore your yearning
To find out your own faults, to put out that mental burning.
If we could feed every soul and get creative once a day
Then we could think ourselves to wonders in which we’d be amazed.
And how many people today have gone without a meal?
What number of people had been senselessly killed?
The last handful of months have collected a large amount of sounds.
What I am going to do with the next releases is just offer them up for
trade, or possibly have everyone interested in a free copy receive one
through the mail. I'm getting off my ass and going to do spoken word and
more shows.. Figure out how to get a speaker system on the go so I can
perform both the hip hop and acoustic style music. Really I just want to
share my works, and get out to meet people.
Sick of the anger, of the blame,I admit past mistakes.
If you can’t change your own life then you’ll never change anybody else.
Lee
and will eventually be on one of the many releases I am working on.
I would say that the last few days have inspired this song, but it'd be
more suitable to say that it is the last twenty one years. Hopefully the
message will taken positively, as it is yourself that needs to change before
the world does.. Something I never really heavily considered until looking
at some of my past actions or inactions.
Anyway, download the song here 3.54 mb
Lyrics:
Each footstep forward sunk into the ground like a boulder
As sweat dripped from my cheek and I checked over my shoulder.
My pockets rattled from change, this felt like part two
Of what is this and what the hell am I supposed to do.
I’ve noticed myself taking many unknown paths
Hoping for better answers, but winding up in traps.
And I’ve noticed myself repeating all the same mistakes
Some times I swear it’s all a dream about to break.
Sometimes trust seems harder when you can’t trust yourself.
But to learn from yourself will bring you out of inner-hell,
And mistakes go repeated because everyone’s so accustomed
To follow that path they’ve fallen through… The tough one.
If we can learn from ourselves, and each thing that caused regret
Then we can make a better life and wouldn’t vote for presidents.
If we could feed every soul and get creative once a day
Then we could think ourselves to wonders in which we’d be amazed.
And how many people today have gone without a meal?
What number of people had been senselessly killed?
This is a wake up call to those here and to myself
If you can’t change your own life then you’ll never change anybody else.
I know we’re pushed to get angry and point fingers at each other
While we continue unhealthy practice of slowly sinking under.
It’s no wonder cold-hearted hate preachers convince us all to kill
We believe it’s necessary, we hate our presence and pay our bills.
We bitch of slow jobs that don’t require any skills
Yet we have the choice, to leave at our free will.
I walked further up the road as water dripped towards the drain
Wondering why we’ve always been disgusted by the rain.
When I realized where to look upon the things I blamed
I saw to change myself so things could rearrange.
I saw to change myself because you can’t ignore your yearning
To find out your own faults, to put out that mental burning.
If we could feed every soul and get creative once a day
Then we could think ourselves to wonders in which we’d be amazed.
And how many people today have gone without a meal?
What number of people had been senselessly killed?
The last handful of months have collected a large amount of sounds.
What I am going to do with the next releases is just offer them up for
trade, or possibly have everyone interested in a free copy receive one
through the mail. I'm getting off my ass and going to do spoken word and
more shows.. Figure out how to get a speaker system on the go so I can
perform both the hip hop and acoustic style music. Really I just want to
share my works, and get out to meet people.
Sick of the anger, of the blame,I admit past mistakes.
If you can’t change your own life then you’ll never change anybody else.
Lee
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