http://www.youtube.com/user/chasinreveries
few new things. covers, stuff written today.
gonna try to keep it going fairly regularly
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
a piece of history
watching videos that are "yes on prop 8"
really quite insane, truly a bit of history.
watch some of this video:
http://www.protectmarriage.com/video/view/6
its outrageous, the way that she does not want her kid to be exposed to "adult issues" when he is so young. The adult issue being a childern's book in which a prince marries another prince... would she call it an adult issue if the child were read a story with a king and queen? they try to maintain an open stance, they try to pretend they support gay rights, they just want to "protect" their children. protect? bah!
really quite insane, truly a bit of history.
watch some of this video:
http://www.protectmarriage.com/video/view/6
its outrageous, the way that she does not want her kid to be exposed to "adult issues" when he is so young. The adult issue being a childern's book in which a prince marries another prince... would she call it an adult issue if the child were read a story with a king and queen? they try to maintain an open stance, they try to pretend they support gay rights, they just want to "protect" their children. protect? bah!
Monday, October 27, 2008
"playing for change"
this gave me some serious fuckin goosebumps.
the guy's name is Mark Johnson. you can watch the interview with him here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-dK3I--mKkA&feature=related
he talks about how he got the idea, what it means for him and the world and the schools he's building.
but if you wanna just see the songs here is the first one, Stand By Me:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_A_ma2h0idk
and here's what the show ends with, One Love:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPG5wqscMjo
beautiful.
the guy's name is Mark Johnson. you can watch the interview with him here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-dK3I--mKkA&feature=related
he talks about how he got the idea, what it means for him and the world and the schools he's building.
but if you wanna just see the songs here is the first one, Stand By Me:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_A_ma2h0idk
and here's what the show ends with, One Love:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPG5wqscMjo
beautiful.
Friday, October 24, 2008
against the wall
the world is evil. it's true. and you love it. you bask in it.
i work. not because i need too. i never needed to do mushrooms either. with the same reasoning i tried working with illegal immigrants. let me report back from the reality i see:
the way it works is she can hold their pay and they can't do anything, not even feed themselves. it's slavery. i work for a slave master. she hides shit and says they stole it and she's not gonna pay them. she kills her koi and buys more with the money she's not giving them. she pays the white workers. she cycles through them like cattle. she pretends she cares about them and then she shits all over them and laughs it off. her dad's a drunk living in a giant moving van they're renting with the $11,000 they have saved up in the business account. when i discovered all this and told ceasar he didn't even react. he knows. i found out why he runs the company and works every weekend for $10 an hour. he smiles while she whips him because he has to take care of his daughters. slavery exists in a more real sense then you complaining about having to work at starbucks.
Well, I wake in the morning,
Fold my hands and pray for rain.
I got a head full of ideas
That are drivin' me insane.
It's a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor.
that fucking bitch exists and you don't even care
because everyone is racist.
this is what i'm up against.
i work. not because i need too. i never needed to do mushrooms either. with the same reasoning i tried working with illegal immigrants. let me report back from the reality i see:
the way it works is she can hold their pay and they can't do anything, not even feed themselves. it's slavery. i work for a slave master. she hides shit and says they stole it and she's not gonna pay them. she kills her koi and buys more with the money she's not giving them. she pays the white workers. she cycles through them like cattle. she pretends she cares about them and then she shits all over them and laughs it off. her dad's a drunk living in a giant moving van they're renting with the $11,000 they have saved up in the business account. when i discovered all this and told ceasar he didn't even react. he knows. i found out why he runs the company and works every weekend for $10 an hour. he smiles while she whips him because he has to take care of his daughters. slavery exists in a more real sense then you complaining about having to work at starbucks.
Well, I wake in the morning,
Fold my hands and pray for rain.
I got a head full of ideas
That are drivin' me insane.
It's a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor.
that fucking bitch exists and you don't even care
because everyone is racist.
this is what i'm up against.
zeus bolts & trudge
Zeus bolts
got the tail on the donkey
pinned, missed the spot
smacked my skull when i was strong
faked a war when i fought
fished paddles from a pond
upstream, eating flesh
cold pirhana life sinking ships
captain, a noose
flags, a ruse
the fast the fact you choose
pry a heart to shove a goddamn Zeus bolt of
conquest
blue fools
poster heroes, bloody veins crooked
seeping yesterday's life with a pirhouette
and a dip into streams of consciousness
skipping stones
wondering where to go
stop the world
gooey guitars mangled from blistering fingers
been too long
spinning worlds halting, one collides
dradle twirls on my holiday hair
friends who twinkle in their florescent chambers
squeezing out crusty convictions
throwing a contradiction like a boomerang
and cutting off your grip on the slippery globe
Trudge
grilled skin
pink to my steel bones
brushing indifference over a fucked canvas.
it's all a sloppy second
biting at my bursting bubble.
i'm hungry
vomiting feral strokes to cover costumes of permanence:
time spit the river
time fucked virginity
time crushes the diamond
--man in scottish dress shoots
white plates in the sky
raining over sprouting landscapes.
water over a desert wanderer
muddy socks, wiggling my toes, catching my breath from the air-
i'm sopping wet with my forevers
snorting the blues through harmonicas in a minor
grinding the squeeze
licking up the in betweens/
i'm gonna wrap up the extremes
take them to the dogs
got a funeral in my body
hearst carving up my arteries,
death crafts the flesh road
brain cut with cheap prose,
and lizard lexicons.
i shake hands with a wizard who takes my coat
gives my knees a shine
asks about the days where i carried a past
asks about the wherever in the supposed to be
and cackles when i say i sculpted lies out of truths in reveries
he says remember me and
sends me off in a rocket
baggage dropping out my skin pockets
like crumbs off my tie after apple pie.
got the tail on the donkey
pinned, missed the spot
smacked my skull when i was strong
faked a war when i fought
fished paddles from a pond
upstream, eating flesh
cold pirhana life sinking ships
captain, a noose
flags, a ruse
the fast the fact you choose
pry a heart to shove a goddamn Zeus bolt of
conquest
blue fools
poster heroes, bloody veins crooked
seeping yesterday's life with a pirhouette
and a dip into streams of consciousness
skipping stones
wondering where to go
stop the world
gooey guitars mangled from blistering fingers
been too long
spinning worlds halting, one collides
dradle twirls on my holiday hair
friends who twinkle in their florescent chambers
squeezing out crusty convictions
throwing a contradiction like a boomerang
and cutting off your grip on the slippery globe
Trudge
grilled skin
pink to my steel bones
brushing indifference over a fucked canvas.
it's all a sloppy second
biting at my bursting bubble.
i'm hungry
vomiting feral strokes to cover costumes of permanence:
time spit the river
time fucked virginity
time crushes the diamond
--man in scottish dress shoots
white plates in the sky
raining over sprouting landscapes.
water over a desert wanderer
muddy socks, wiggling my toes, catching my breath from the air-
i'm sopping wet with my forevers
snorting the blues through harmonicas in a minor
grinding the squeeze
licking up the in betweens/
i'm gonna wrap up the extremes
take them to the dogs
got a funeral in my body
hearst carving up my arteries,
death crafts the flesh road
brain cut with cheap prose,
and lizard lexicons.
i shake hands with a wizard who takes my coat
gives my knees a shine
asks about the days where i carried a past
asks about the wherever in the supposed to be
and cackles when i say i sculpted lies out of truths in reveries
he says remember me and
sends me off in a rocket
baggage dropping out my skin pockets
like crumbs off my tie after apple pie.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
the desert sessions and grumble
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Desert_Sessions
will let you know how they are.
getting them now.
grumble
if ya turn faces
and split ideas
for 8 cents a piece
sell the crumbs
for saliva
and zinfandel
over a bloody sunset
sprinkled with fog and water rays
you might find yourself
hanging on the edge of some
rumbling hunger
for the line
that splits your whispers for something
into grumbling nothings
will let you know how they are.
getting them now.
grumble
if ya turn faces
and split ideas
for 8 cents a piece
sell the crumbs
for saliva
and zinfandel
over a bloody sunset
sprinkled with fog and water rays
you might find yourself
hanging on the edge of some
rumbling hunger
for the line
that splits your whispers for something
into grumbling nothings
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
"America"...a poem by Allen Ginsberg
"America I've given you all and now I'm nothing.
America two dollars and twentyseven cents January
17, 1956.
I can't stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.
I don't feel good don't bother me.
I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind.
America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I'm sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I
need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not
the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don't think he'll come back
it's sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical
joke?
I'm trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I'm doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
I haven't read the newspapers for months, everyday
somebody goes on trial for murder.
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid
I'm not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses
in the closet.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there's going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
My psychoanalyst thinks I'm perfectly right.
I won't say the Lord's Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven't told you what you did to Uncle
Max after he came over from Russia.
I'm addressing you.
Are you going to let your emotional life be run by
Time Magazine?
I'm obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner
candystore.
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
It's always telling me about responsibility. Business-
men are serious. Movie producers are serious.
Everybody's serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.
Asia is rising against me.
I haven't got a chinaman's chance.
I'd better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two joints of
marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable
private literature that goes 1400 miles an hour
and twenty-five-thousand mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of
underprivileged who live in my flowerpots
under the light of five hundred suns.
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers
is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that
I'm a Catholic.
America how can I write a holy litany in your silly
mood?
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as
individual as his automobiles more so they're
all different sexes.
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500
down on your old strophe
America free Tom Mooney
America save the Spanish Loyalists
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven momma took me to Com-
munist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a
handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the
speeches were free everybody was angelic and
sentimental about the workers it was all so sin-
cere you have no idea what a good thing the
party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand
old man a real mensch Mother Bloor made me
cry I once saw Israel Amter plain. Everybody
must have been a spy.
America you don't really want to go to war.
America it's them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen.
And them Russians.
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia's power
mad. She wants to take our cars from out our
garages.
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Readers'
Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia.
Him big bureaucracy running our fillingsta-
tions.
That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read.
Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us
all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from looking in
the television set.
America is this correct?
I'd better get right down to the job.
It's true I don't want to join the Army or turn lathes
in precision parts factories, I'm nearsighted and
psychopathic anyway.
America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel."
Berkeley, January 17, 1956
America two dollars and twentyseven cents January
17, 1956.
I can't stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.
I don't feel good don't bother me.
I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind.
America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I'm sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I
need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not
the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don't think he'll come back
it's sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical
joke?
I'm trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I'm doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
I haven't read the newspapers for months, everyday
somebody goes on trial for murder.
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid
I'm not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses
in the closet.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there's going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
My psychoanalyst thinks I'm perfectly right.
I won't say the Lord's Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven't told you what you did to Uncle
Max after he came over from Russia.
I'm addressing you.
Are you going to let your emotional life be run by
Time Magazine?
I'm obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner
candystore.
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
It's always telling me about responsibility. Business-
men are serious. Movie producers are serious.
Everybody's serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.
Asia is rising against me.
I haven't got a chinaman's chance.
I'd better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two joints of
marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable
private literature that goes 1400 miles an hour
and twenty-five-thousand mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of
underprivileged who live in my flowerpots
under the light of five hundred suns.
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers
is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that
I'm a Catholic.
America how can I write a holy litany in your silly
mood?
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as
individual as his automobiles more so they're
all different sexes.
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500
down on your old strophe
America free Tom Mooney
America save the Spanish Loyalists
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven momma took me to Com-
munist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a
handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the
speeches were free everybody was angelic and
sentimental about the workers it was all so sin-
cere you have no idea what a good thing the
party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand
old man a real mensch Mother Bloor made me
cry I once saw Israel Amter plain. Everybody
must have been a spy.
America you don't really want to go to war.
America it's them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen.
And them Russians.
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia's power
mad. She wants to take our cars from out our
garages.
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Readers'
Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia.
Him big bureaucracy running our fillingsta-
tions.
That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read.
Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us
all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from looking in
the television set.
America is this correct?
I'd better get right down to the job.
It's true I don't want to join the Army or turn lathes
in precision parts factories, I'm nearsighted and
psychopathic anyway.
America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel."
Berkeley, January 17, 1956
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
a ridiculous statistic:
"Of the $20,000,000,000 worth of U. S. property exempt from taxation, nearly one quarter is owned by churches."
from: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,787795,00.html?promoid=googlep
in other news, it's easy to say that things are nice, it's valuable to argue why they aren't and it's good to remember that an idea may not be attached and growing from the individual who throws it up. some ideas are like 15 shots of whiskey. you can only hold em in for so long til you gots to get em out. but the drunk could've been good. anyways. sometimes a night spent on the toilet is good for your life.
from: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,787795,00.html?promoid=googlep
in other news, it's easy to say that things are nice, it's valuable to argue why they aren't and it's good to remember that an idea may not be attached and growing from the individual who throws it up. some ideas are like 15 shots of whiskey. you can only hold em in for so long til you gots to get em out. but the drunk could've been good. anyways. sometimes a night spent on the toilet is good for your life.
your vote:
http://www.pbs.org/moyers/journal/10172008/watch3.html
from http://www.pbs.org/moyers/journal/index-flash.html
really good stuff
also related:
http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/23638322/block_the_vote
from http://www.pbs.org/moyers/journal/index-flash.html
really good stuff
also related:
http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/23638322/block_the_vote
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