Live From Times Square, It's BROCKTUNE STUDIOS!

THE LIST: Well when you put it like that there's not much else to say. She left two days after all this shit was over. When you say it like that it's almost as if we spent no time nowhere, thinking about nothing right then. But I went with her then because I was out of cigarettes and it was late. Outside it was cold and wet, like a poet. We stepped onto the road, with the billboards and the wild grass - new york city - and I slipped - and it crossed my mind. - next comes the scene on the couch. So set it. The one thing about the place was that because of WHERE it was sometimes if the atmosphere was just a little too complex for whatever reason only a few of the commercial free stations would come in. And the best one was this bossa nova, salsa, samba, and cha-cha-cha. So I ended up listening to it a lot but, no, I don't think I ever got much more out of it than just enjoying it when it was on - but the point is is that because it was so nuts out, it was one of those nights and it was on. She was sleeping all spread out on the sofabed, and when I looked over there and realized how late it was a muted trumpet did a lilting solo. - but where was I? man - it became some weird DIY thing with her where everyday items, if they'd really kind of BEEN everyday, know what I'm saying - everyday items, then they wore their years of service on their sleeve - almost on purpose. - ingrained - you know the drill. the epic show of skill. you know the drill. the heroic act of will - On the heels of that...sign came down from the top today, saying More Quit - the body wants more quit - the world smells the fear on me smells it as I walk down the street, sees it on my face, hears it in my bass - greed is denial, already - new beginnings - love - where do the locked doors in the subway lead? - I borrowed the idea from an old friend. as it started to always be something, I made a case for stalling - I made a case for walking. When I left, I closed my eyes and stepped and looked amazed, and I, brash with the rest of them, trusted my stuff and I absolutely had to and take couches and floors where I could see. start with a wall or a door with a sign on it - "I was interviewing this guy - I didn't like his confrontational style" - band - bush - new and improved- why do I even feel compelled to write about them? I don't want to write about them - how the strings and my fingers feel familiar - how there is safety in the random - typos - I REMEMBER DRIVING THE VAN HIGH - the typos most checked - how can I get away with writing about relationships when I know nothing about them? - think of it as kind of an inside running joke. I had just estinguished the cigarette when he stopped talking on the answering machine. It didn't go straight out with the beep but it was pretty damn close. Outside the window the construction going on across the street could still be heard, but it wasn't overwhelming the brand new indie rock record I'd received through someone who had been reading the site where I do book reviews. - we were searched for - longed for - googled - no doubt by the waiting, hyperactive, sedentary public that was tuning in - my instincts don't say a lot these days - monolith - cognition ignition decision - my boss punched a wall - 2005= judgement! - left alone in the woods - if only, if only - irrevocably, irrevocably, irrevocably - I can't figure out if I over reacted or not - probably - bonus thrity dollar gift card - my life is like a washing machine on sale - no interest for twelve months - i was listening to the rain, I was hearing something else - METS SEVEN PITTSBURGH ZERO - Bobby Jones? - Searching for a place to have a moment. the old knife shop had been there for years but is now a bank. If I stop in the middle of the sidewalk is it that I think that place should be here or am I stunned because no one else has stopped? There's more to the street than the gutter. everything was cool while we were just sitting there. it wasn't until the crowd swelled with the people who lived here now... people who seven eight years ago would have been over the bridge or under the river - but now it was safe enough for them. they'd heard enough; me, I'd had enough. But it wasn't going to end there, or outside as I puked up the one bite of pannini I'd taken off my friend Adam. WHO'S A SLEEPER? NOT FUCKING ME! I REMEMEBER EIGHTH AVE TRAFFIC - I want to write about non-localized consciousness - ammunition - disclaiming - so much of this has come from somewhere else - who will be there to go through all of my tapes, all of my papers, all of my wasted hours and find them worthy? - who must see me as worthy before then? her? - oh poor little heart, will he never learn? - so... my weekends are bullshit and nothing sounds good on the radio / but it's voices and I can take it but it's the commercials - the relentless commercials trying to sell me shit. try and sell me cigarettes and maybe I won't feel so compelled to have them in my life - Warm. In. All. The. Right. Places - Bush is a criminal... pass it on - My shoulders hurt. Need to keep track of things like this on my calendar. IN MY MENTAL CALENDER. At what point will the cards cease to mean anything? Probably never, they've found there eternal space at the top of this page. Hm... Why can't the weeks just go on? PLANET - How I got into college: It was the first time I shook my father's hand - not many kids come up here with posters of Salvador Dali paintings... oh, I cried and I cried... Kim DiGiorno. Donna. Franz Liszt. Hungarian Rhapsody #2 in C# minor - Here at the foot of the stairs, after the fall, after the staring at the wall, 'twas worth the wait. Wiping the dirt from my mouth, harmless and proud, glad that I ended up out, 'twas worth the wait. The waiting it out. Next Dan. Roaches. A quick poem: BREAKUP. *clears throat* crawled out of bed / crawled back in. Thank you! Thank you! Helping the dudes at beach move cinderblocks. Breaking the Stanley Cup. Putting on the play (White Frog Pajamas) - When planets face north, everyone loses. A million dollar idea: the personalized, programmable alarm clock! - Dream Journal: Walking the long road to Tibbets with the two (two?) bowls of puke / shit listening to the footsteps... rainy glistened night, jogging... my girlfriend - it still sounds strange to say. Here are a couple of old songs. couple old songs. Hup! Hup! Hup! It still sounds strange to say. 8/2 + 7/21 Must be 2004. Destiny. Sleep. Red Herrings. no no no, it's in C major, C major - I FEEL AT THIS POINT THE WHOLE SYSTEM IS BREAKING DOWN - ball girl - Why must conversation be an endless stream of stories without opinions where drunkenness is the punchline? well, there's my paranoia. I can't go head to head as my stories are humungous and cloistered in context. I would think questions come first, stories come later... But what if she is into me? Maybe my not pushing it is just practice. I'm so sick of juggling - uh, uh, if I can get past Janice, if I can get over this one, and into the head of that one... - asleep. like a street, but it's sooooo scandalous - feh, you have that right. I kid you not! Have you read my NOVEL?? It's about an [job] who [hobby] when one day [person] [conflict]. I'd write it but I don't have it in me. OR I'm hungry. OR I'm tired - I will just sit here and listen to this Television album and hum, elevation, don't go to my head - yes kid, it's spring training, but what is it doing for you? the world listens little to the lute-strings of the heart... - who's that? my parents - i will always believe that Gore deserved a rematch in 2004 - 2008 will have to do - I REMEMBER WHEN THAT GUY CUT ME OFF ON AMSTERDAM AND SHOULD HAVE HIT US - what do you plan to do with your life -- her feet are a wandering faith - please help me get metconnect back - thanks brotha joe - howie - albany ny - to astoria - to sunset park - to Augusta Maine - to Canarsie - to Times Square - How's it going to end? - Piano Trio in B flat Opus 99 Schubert - "Search & destroy" wherever it is, it's west. tub. evidence. drain. cape. The problem with drawing is that I don't have the skill to make it expressive. up to your neck in it. SWIM! - 12/30/05 12:15 am: I was so consumed with these people. these interesting people. they were all around. they used to be everywhere. what happened. and why? If art is social, wouldn't part of art be showing off? Dev - would it be fair to say that each time we get a little closer, you back off? Halls. Official!! : my weekends are bullshit and all my pens run out of ink, scratch the page and render my words invisible, only an impression. Who can I meet that is new and enjoys moments of quiet repose? If she was in to me, she'd ask me questions, right? I told her I write, she knows I am in a band, is she just not interesed? is she music? or is writing and playing in a band just not as interesting as I continue to think? music - corporate sucks, always has, always will. but - i have wiped my ass with a coffee filter - when I shit skyscrapers I wipe my ass with the clouds - I will always remember you as weird and good to me - me and Dan actually tried to buy a bag of weed on the corner of 37th and 5th. AVENUE!!!! I have always depended on the apathy of those closest to me - crucial yacht... that sounds like crucial taunt... what was that? did that happen on the train on the way to practice or is it finally time to work all that out... is it time to list what actually happens and what doesn't and keep them in two separate notebooks? DON'T TELL ME DON'T TELL ME - is this the ultimatre combination of cut and paste and stream of consciousness? I suppose maybe, if I can make it coherent.. sad... like robot sad. no help: how can this be anything but a bad thing? use two hands. c'est la guerre. as all writing is rewriting, all art is recycled... dear john - outlook! - word power -I REMEMBER GETTING MY FINGER CAUGHT IN THE CAR DOOR - that sucked man. you would not want to know some of the reasons I've had. What are yours - none of us would ever want to know anyone that way - all the stars in the sky tried - Percy - all the kids we never had sighed - all the groups I never sang with slide - some may try for number two - it was just one of those things, you know. we got into waiting for people, we kept drinking, talked about music and cigarettes and windows. I remember staring at the ceiling thinking, with a hand on my dead shoulder, that these were the kinds of things that songs were made of. especially with all the crying on the train afterwards and such. damn. SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS I REALIZED THAT I WAS TOO DRUNK TO PLAY THE GUITAR - not that anyone - give me one reason to stay here, and I'll turn right back around - you've got to make me change my mind - I'm glad you put on Jawbreaker - no shoes - i'd gone home to change at some point, i only wish the world had changed with me - blah - well anyways the point is is that we never made it to the bar, never made it to the show, we kissed on the couch in the corner, i'd had my lap sat in, went for a beer run, let the night pass. something about a certain smell and a certain window that it was hoped this smell would pass through. we were in cleveland by this point, we had a bag or two of blow left and we'd been on the run from whatever it was for some time now. shrubs and why can't I type that. and ashtray. sure that too. and your friend Bob and Hugh's girlfriend and mugshots and cornerstone mirrors and the folding tables out front. this is summer to me, apparently. that and sweat. and white clothes. and torment and pass it did. neighbors complained eventually, and can you blame them. there were whole cities at stake. so the three of us stood out in the hall for what seemed, at least to my (I look out as the wind picks up. the sky goes light and tan. all my thoughts in order, and I'm yawnin and I wasn't meant to fly nor was I meant to fill these pages nor leave this windowsill empty) drunk self, as a long time. so I went back in for her (all the yous in these songs used to be someone else. now they're you) and saw them talking. it couldn't have been that long, but things were growing as it were. I thought of the hallway I just left and wondered if it was whispering thing to me, right now, and not being able to see or feel or hear my existence nonetheless knew me so well that it spoke to me only assuming I'd be there. but I wasn't.... I was lingering... I was keeping a direct line from my mind into each eye until they were standing right next to each other. now sure they know each other and it might have just been my drunk brain filling in the gaps like eyes do automatically. those eyes. but these things are true: we were waiting for people who didn't seem to be coming. I could not blame anybody as that was the way of the world and the way of the city I'd chosen, part of the tradeoff from the value system that I inserted myself into. if one can insert oneself into something that china-dollish. hunker down. think. no no no you've got it all wrong, and you've got ME all wrong in the process. It's not lying on the couch, it's called vizualization. that sent my mind racing as I cherry picked things to help this make sense: step one. look at your hand, I mean really look at it. step two. stare at a penny for fifteen minutes. what "comes" to "mind"? them slow away them deep in shit them lost on the roof with a panorama and a poster for the film and them without anything to hold in their restless hands. them disappearing into rooms. them counting for minutes and minutes at a time. but it made no sense with everything else. so I said, "tell me wall" I said this though I was still inside, tell me hallway what's the word from out there? what the hell are the stairs looking up at? wha?? "they're making out" even though that was not true. not the biggest lie, but a lie nonetheless. patterns appeared where there were none but I don't feel upset about that. I'd rather be overzealous at times in seeking out and training myself to recognize patters than god forbid let that ability slip even a little. after that it's a world of fast dizzy inebriated emotion, no text messages, hurting on the platform, staring into space on the train, wiping my eyes as I left. nothing to tell me otherwise the next day. so without much else to do I went on with my life. - independent arists - Accumulating a lot of past. What a relief! as the long wet night climbs its way to me. When I rely on the medicine to snap me out of it, the night dissolves. be as mean as they all told me you were - the theme of Live from Times Square, it's BROCKTUNE STUDIOS! BROCKTUNE STUDIOS "annoying The Man since 2000..." 10.2007 / Serenity / Miles to go... JOE'S SHIT MUSIC YES FICTION YES VISUAL ART paintings new MMM paintings old SURE random sketches WHY NOT POETRY C'MON F.A.Q. Links forthcoming. send me a link please read.. . The Point Send Me Shit UPDATE : Pictures from Becca and Ange's visit Don't forget to visit The JAM Online Highly recommended. Viva Yonkers!