facsimile

Internet is the new taking a walk

2010-06-10T22:02:00.001-07:00

b i r t h d a y

2010-04-30T12:59:00.000-07:00

Jazz hands.

Of course we ate. Of course I took a picture.

Billy and Boyd.

Pepi Ginsberg. Holy Moly.

Deer Tick.

Sax in the backseat of my Camry.

That accent could spark some westward expansion.

Burly men love Lady Gaga.

Dr. Dog. I'm speechless. Just angelic.

contd.

They played the Breeze. Jesus. !

ah, still speechless.

Some guy crowd surfing at his bachelor's party.

Syllables are attempting to connect still.

Man, it was a fucking amazing birthday.

My spoils of war. And my tote bag arsenal ever amasses and carries my shit.

I want to thank Farid and Andrea for co-piloting this adventure with me.

Back To The Yeasayer Part II

2010-04-14T14:47:00.000-07:00

Y E A S A Y E R

2010-04-14T11:45:00.001-07:00

Known eco-terrorist, Geoff, seconds before his angeldust trip turns lethal.

Jen shows us a jellfish hickey. Only known cure: piss on your neck.

The middle guy showed me his nipple hours later. I owe him one; one nipple.

Lion King Lazer Show With Fire-breathing Zebras.

Stephen and Alan.

Cecil pointing out a unicorn in the crowd.

El Paso in the first row. Eat it, Marfa.

Left: Harry. Right: Henderson.

Stephen, the Loveboat.

Top to bottom: Alex, Billy Ray, Alex's crotch, Marfa asphalt.

Boy George's bicycle.

Three steers and no queers.

The coolest older sister and one soon to be smelly tent.

the power to walk

2010-03-29T14:41:00.000-07:00

Ezra

2010-02-21T22:51:00.000-08:00

bonfire in the wakescape

2010-02-09T22:19:00.000-08:00

short this february

2010-02-09T22:13:00.000-08:00

vonnegut. creating new constellations, ones i can relate to.

sailing toward the home boundary.

bats, leeches, and hopeful hearts.

:::womyn:::

2010-01-07T22:33:00.000-08:00

my xmas blog

2009-12-25T19:00:00.000-08:00

-red light distract-

-6 carrots were killed to make this cake-

-ricardo and alejandro-

-ale and mama-

-g & l-

-alan. most likely in the family to date a supermodel-

-storytelling-

-that family band idea is gonna take off next year-

-public hanging. ungrateful grandchildren beware-

-the salt and peppa go, chirp chirp-

-two cocks don't make a right-

-cup-

-new projects for the future-

the ultimate ceiling

2009-12-14T19:13:00.001-08:00

-picture it, sicily!-

-ill have a beer with my man-

-ladies, please form a line by the wall-

-the motifs we want-

-teleport me there-

-holding a flaming ball of shit-

-monster-

-chicago is happening-

-lewis and clark-

-ill have a burger with that shake-

Fleet Foxes

2009-12-05T04:48:00.000-08:00

Fleet Foxes.

This proves god has a beard "" ha

50 names for snow

2009-12-02T15:48:00.000-08:00

-shards in my heart-

-daisy and duke-

-e talking, its been a while-

-feathers and hearts-

-lone-

-bodyrock-

-highlighter-

-the girls-

-trio-

-snow white-

-white dogs can't jump-

-body line-

-we are so lucky to live here. everything beautiful is coming to town.-

New Camera New Thrills

2009-11-29T20:48:00.000-08:00

-lease comes with wings-

-action figure retirement plan-

-bird sanctuary-

-injuns ride steerage-

-nail your foot odor to the wall-

-going green gets those PETA girls wet-

-my writing studio and bill pileup-

-giant v viner-

SOULWAX :: show on youtube

2009-10-29T21:49:00.000-07:00

Smells Tell Us

2009-10-17T18:52:00.001-07:00

We all have one. But can we make it outdoors in time?!

Spook check-in.

It comes easy for some.

Love handles were a luxury those days.

Halloween.

Mothers living their dreams through their children.

Us teens, run into a wall and we call it love.

Its honestly the greatest thing in the world.

Ugly goes double platinum.

How you delegate surrender.

The lunchboxes you regret your Mom through away.

This is how a supermodel is created.

Girls flirt with gravity. Goddamn.

If and/or when I teach in Europe I'll be driving one of these. The Vespa, Hi-Oh.

Pallid Hotdamn

2009-10-06T21:47:00.000-07:00

Old Computer Old News, Bring it back

2009-09-21T00:41:00.001-07:00

I love this bitch. During DMS I reflect on this, my favorite picture of her.
Blogging for the kids.
I wish I was taller. And who wants to fuck the stinking marine biologist?
Cocaine is great, however you want to break it. Credit cards and id's are best.
How many bears are in this picture?
Whitey does it best.
The next seconds in this duck's life are going to hurt. I guess no quack attack, Jack.
This is supposed to be me in South Park world. Minus the tattoos, slight beer gut, and shorter shorts. But I'm whiter than this.
Cecil's parents place this summer. Even houses can sink!

Untitled Me Portrait

2009-09-16T01:44:00.000-07:00

Wishing for a neverland, always

two candles for september dreams tom tom

2009-09-13T03:48:00.000-07:00

Attention...Dream World Press
By Raul Munoz

Feathers on the grasswalk like an >> Elder's headdress. --Yes, we'll surrender. >> Danglin' moon tonight, hanging from >> The violet sheet like an earring. >> It was raining bad that dream. >> Cats and dogs outside, let them >> Reach our ceiling. Third to last >> Was half dog half sea lion. Last >> One in was dog sized sea lion. >> --That's weird, come on in, stranger. >> Then it was Africa, a pet nursery. >> Miniature sheep and baby elephants. >> The city, asphalt was on a hill. All the >> Guns and ammo rolled to the bottom Gutter. We were headed to Europe next. >> :Shirtless backs facing God asking for peace.

Pupils like Eagles
By Raul Munoz

Do you see a chance of living through this? >> If you fall I fall, we can land face to face. >> Pupils like eagles, show us past great Plains that castles still shine through Our wars. >> Picket fence, shoutgun aim, Put your beer down, here comes again >> The man with a bible soaked in blood, >> And the dirt won't come off. But it's too >> Late to ask for reprieve or a drag of his cig.

3 summer poems i was afraid but now abandonment

2009-08-31T01:00:00.000-07:00

Raul Munoz
“Laptop Wake-me-ups”
Viendo la reflexcion de mi padre en la pantaya
DADS REFLECTION ON MY LAPTOP
Me estoy viendo y pienso si esto es el fin
Voy as ser como el?
Mi destino ya escrito and dicedido para mi
Nunca tenia un milagro o una oportunidad
Para cambiar calquier parta de mi vida
Solo ser otro estrano lleno de drogas
Nosotros regales al cuerpo.
Madre, es verdad.
Soy la proxima pagina de este
Pais de banderas nocturnas.
Estas muerto papa
Que ha pasado con nuestra
Dynasty.
Momentary, aching for implosion.
Shot up jeeps, bullet proof deaths.
New York City cops—they ain’t too smart.
Top five things to do:
Museums
Simian mobile disco DID NOT HAPPEN. BUT ALREADY SAW THEM.
La riots and designer drugs. BOUGHT MY TICKET. LIFE DON’T ILL ME.
Catch every borough.
Snakes on a plane. –gotta catch that one in New York.
Raves are such a double-edged sword. With regards to drugs.
I can’t say I go to raves sober. You’ll always find me on the dance floor with one
Substance or another in me leading the next step to euphoria.
8/31: But I can dance sober too. Am I digging another hole for myself. My backyard is ruined.

Raul Munoz
“Shark Nursery”

Bite your lip and look me in the eyes. You’re a pirate
To my heart, the veins the wires that make your noose.
Meet you in the catacomb, it’s the darkest cover that
Brings out the cocksucker in me. –Brush your tongue,
And write me a journal so I can steal it when you shower.

Had a dream, wrote my own epitaph at age thirteen.
Woke up and went back to sleep, wrote it again.
This dream I was twenty-two. It was less words, too
Blurry to tell if they meant anything. I asked the gentleman
Next to me if he could read them for me. –I don’t have eyes.

Sat down on a bench next to a family plot, only first names.
Best to wait it out by this local dynasty, tribe.
Age fifty now, grey bearded and the bad cancer, wearing glasses.
I got the prescription for this moment, the whole ground can wait.
What do we have here, stranger? 1987-2037. A TWILIGHT SON.

RAUL
50 years sound right.
10 23
11 24
12 25
13 26
14 27
15 28
16 29
17 30
+20 YEARS= 50 YEARS. 50 YEARS SOUND RIGHT

Raul Munoz
“Cape Crusade”*
*take this literal for me

Walking on wind steps paved
By those feather children.
They pretend to be wolves and
Howl at the pallid peak, like
Howling at a strangers face.

Its three cents to make the
Passage, says the nearest elder;
His last feather winding for a fall.
Long brushes marking lines and
Circles on our faces, a line now
Amassed behind me. Face paint.
It’s an homage, he says.

I want blue the color of your kingdom,
Says a young bride behind me, 17 years.
Her gown, made of crumbled parchment,
So much angst the young writer,
How he balls his block and error.

Beginning to skip beginning to run.
(Kingdom comes to the lonesome.)
Behind me now, just little dots colored
For tribute, but can they say a prayer?

First sight of the burial ground.
It takes weeks to match
Myself with the marked land.
Rusted pillars and wires make
The borders, no sight of entry.
Abandoned crow nests, cobwebs.
It’s the surnames buried and
Everyone makes their own tombstone.

The first one to speak sang a song.
Get a rise out of me, feather man
Get a rise out of me, you broken arrow
Get a rise out of us; we wait to leave our tomb
How did I get here? I interrupted.
Children aloof float up here, he replied.
Make a pose you can live with.

two images and a dream i saved. "attention" ::: the poem

2009-08-30T00:40:00.000-07:00

Raul Munoz
“Attention”
Feathers on the grasswalk like an
Elder’s headdress. –Yes, we’ll surrender.
Danglin’ moon tonight, hanging from
The violet sheet like an earring.
It was raining bad that dream.
Cats and dogs outside, let them
Reach our ceiling. Third to last
Was half dog half sea lion. Last
One in was dog sized sea lion.
–That’s weird, come on in, stranger.
Then it was Africa, a pet nursery.
Miniature sheep and baby elephants.
The city, asphalt was on a hill. All the
Guns and ammo rolled to the bottom
Gutter. We were headed to Europe next.
:Shirtless backs facing God asking for peace.

BASURA MOTIF

2009-08-19T19:45:00.000-07:00

Everyone hold hands.

Get your leather get your nation state.

Mothra, Mothra, Mothra. And he comes from behind to laser you away.

Not enough treaties for a rain shower.

Cardboard ghouls, we'll sell them to the blind.

When the foliage leaves, its the pictures that we'll remember.

There's never enough coke at these parties.

Angels without wings are called mothers.

Nancy, answer my calls.

You can't feast this piggy.

Converge, the new diverge.

If we sink, save the letters.

I've got soul in my pockets.

Vagrant for a night. It requires no heart.

Recurring dreams. A back-burner emotion.

My cubs, remember me for my fangs.

New York Poem

2009-08-16T14:19:00.001-07:00

Its the end of the road and I couldn't help it.

Mammoth mothers and fathers out to save us.

Its fifty talons to the sea shores.

Take me away to your mortality.

I wish I could do this longer.

Two hands for a good thunderclap.

We all need a good bed bug.

Hope to get the best from you.

I wrote a poem on the plane, at the airport, in Brooklyn the past week that sums up my New York stay and the summer; I'm crossing fingers.

Raul Munoz
“Desert City; Rooftop Wet Meets River Breeze (ATXNYC)”

(1): Crying and laughing sound the same, save for the
Obvious pitch. In fact, they are brother and brother
Aligning the same emotion: celebration misery.

(2): You worry too much about your façade
Wrinkling you forgot how to dance. Let
That cocaine slur reach the blacktop.

(3): Am I a late buzz for your morning-after
Wake? When the shutter speed is ten you
Kiss a thirty. Holding devils on your palm,
Sprinkle pitchforks into my throat. Late messages.

(4): Natural History Museum. We saw the progress
Of man and taxidermy at the Natural History Museum.
We wanted to fucking steal every creature model and
Reproduced INDIAN artifacts and oblivion keepsakes.
(Conquest): Does not become at the surveyors office
But two-hundred years later window shopping their remains.

(5): I’m trying to have a moment in my aisle seat, something
Permanent but shades away from losing cabin pressure. Two siblings
Next to me, their embrace and their plane chat. I just need to see my
Brother.

(6): This summer is drinking and sweating. And driving and taking in the
Skyline: Five weeks in my state capital, then the epicenter of the earth.
But it’s the I love you’s and mom and I miss you’s that really get to me.

(7): I couldn't write a poem on the plane to Brooklyn. I tried Spanish, it
Made it worse. A truth all men soak their face. DADS REFLECTION ON
MY LAPTOP. Is it over? Is that what how my face will age? Will his
Tail stick to the sole of my shoe?

(8): It’s a forest of clouds from the window view and I keep reminding
Myself I’m an adult now. Time to get a job, apply for graduate school,
Serious writing, be a good son and brother. If I can keep the latter!

(9): 1987-2037.

(10): Grow up,

POP GOES

2009-08-06T21:48:00.001-07:00

Keep it honest. I'm 22, in need of a good haircut, and aching for some e.

Bring talons to a gun fight. Guardians Featherless

I'm ready to go home after this.

Call it invisible wired fence.

I want a ranch and a horse. The Southwest, you'll find me there in my grey days.

Royalty at the beach.

The classy get mixed up with the condiments.

First class howlers.

Love, the frontier after space.

I was a minor threat in high school, still dealt soft hands.

My worst nightmare but I'm still your voyeur. Take my blood and get me to the castle vip.

Raul Munoz
“Pop”

She’s made of rivers, lakes, mountains and fog.
A peninsula leading us to the wet bed where land
And wave meet, a Jesus burial for our mishaps
Our black eye socials and our coats at the door.
Breathe in dirt breath out your lip sweat. Gasp.

Personal libraries, the perfect hideaway for the
Vodka fountain pen and the letters, so heavy, tall.
Left boot carries her diary, cut-out Polaroids, lead.
Right boot carries some of Mother’s lip stick and a
Shank for those who howl her way. –Tempt me, lady

Smile at them? I rather shoot a gun blindfolded.
She gets kicks from boys kissing in the park. Why do
I rise so early in the morning and you spooks, awake,
Counting your gifts when all I really want is a chance
To fill my nose, fix my hair, and catch up on my subscription.

Mind me while I'm gone

2009-08-05T20:06:00.000-07:00

Best three-sum.

Hum hum hum hum hum hum bird.

Too cool for most things under the sun.

Can you palm a whale?

Raul Munoz
“Mind the Traffic”

Mind the traffic next time.
It’s hard to dodge bullets
But vendetta driven auto
Mobiles on your-speed;
God be a saint.

Dress designs like gardens
Filled with four-leaf maybe’s
Now reduced to smokestacks
Reminding me of biblical beards
Dissuading us from heretic regularities.

Both her legs to the roof, the kids go
For a peak of the soiled matching
Daisies; it’s hard to read these moves:
Thrust, breath, thrust, breath, breath.

GET A RISE

2009-08-05T19:42:00.001-07:00

Iron v Iron.

It helps to skip breakfast.

Too much love, I've wasted my pockets.

You're my number girl.

Final week in Austin. Next stop New York City. I've learned a lot and I've receded from past teachings. Miss my family and friends. Miss the El Paso moon, my intimate twilight and the city lights at night. --Yes, you are welcome. Come back, child.

Raul Munoz
“Get a Rise”
I’m searching the paperwork for a friend. In the meantime I keep finding rolled up singles. Waking up with a bloody retainer, the bedside provides no life preservers but the ones you salvage in the night, always left on the taxi ride home. Staring at the fake wood wall paper atop my soul, I’m reminded to visit the hardware store and start anew. No wall hangings but my diploma and a rams head from a safari before I was born. Out of cigarettes but yesterdays buds can save me money and time. Don’t answer the phone much these times. I don’t have company over at all; all business administered outside and they can write me a letter if it’s that urgent. Keep the wolves in the wild. It’s raining and it’s snowing, God can’t make up his mind. My vote is for sun that I could hope to give up my jacket. Found the letter; this boy could howl. – I’m not a healer so why do you ask? I did a shit job burying you and now you ask me to bury your soul. We should crow proof this time. – You asked once how to get blood off bed sheets that you woke up from a bloody nose and if I ever had one. I told you to throw them away, but you never asked how to stop.

Things to mind on a stroll

2009-07-27T14:13:00.000-07:00

Baby Sonic Boomers

2009-07-26T13:00:00.001-07:00

"City Scapes."
Family fathers keeping the wake.
Southern Belle, I'll make you.
You're all thieves, here, forever.
Put me in the movies.
To be a voyeur.
Keep me posted on her arrival.
How do you feel about a long-term vacation?

Play date at the ruin park.

Spooktown Alive ::::knick knacks

2009-07-24T12:04:00.000-07:00

Here in Austin, Texas summer 2009

2009-07-22T14:17:00.000-07:00

Its going on three weeks in my state capital. Brand new college graduate, afraid of whats ahead. Ive seen a bunch of great acts ie Matt and Kim, Deer Tick, The Glitch Mob. Ive been a bedfellow with my many Austin friends: Val/Sarah, Chris, and Eric. Ive learned the value of the dollar after checking my bank statement, (never charge plastic on 6Th. street). I finished Absurdistan and am now engaged in Trainspotting. Heroin has never been a more full-time drug in my view. I started writing a new short story that has promise. And I have rekindled my love for Christina Ricci.

Buffalo 66 first got me into this angel.

Eric and I just saw her on Speed Racer, another romance of mine. Japanese cartoons when I was little with Spanish dubbing. Speed and Racer X getting buck on the racetrack.

And I wrote this poem the other night, early morning, about a bunch of things in my life that now I couldn't discern in the subtext:

“City Scapes”
This city loves to get us lost. Take us away skyline, away to something new, something lethal, make it renaissance; breathe in our mouths the nectar that the kids can’t escape.
What do you say, lover? These hands can’t keep fidelity with the soap of our fathers and must get dirty. Let’s crawl into the bark and make ourselves a new providence, forever free from the overhead lights that tire us with electric labor. Bleed out the shit. We’ll look terrible in the morning but how we feel when the moon sings us to sleep as the last bite of ecstasy dissipates and how you tongue your lips just to make me feel young again.
Walking home, we can walk in circles, we can walk spelling each other’s names ‘cause that direction is the ether. And how we’ll love to administer that fact to ourselves till again returns our friend, the speakeasy owl.
It’s the same clothes from morning fucks days ago; we keep our receipts of all-night diners and rolling papers from Indian bodegas. We all have to take notes sometimes. An address, a time, a word that absolves us from the beast clawing at our denim backs. Hallelujah, you pig. Away now, I’ve got a date with my lady. Breakfast and a long toke.

Drive fast, baby
Drive fast baby
We can’t rest now, baby
Drive fast baby
Take us from these borders
I want to see nothing but the
Snakes that protect the cacti castle
I’ll make you a desert bride.
Eject everything on the plain and you’ll
Be the queen of forever now.
So sweet it would be to sharpen all three heads and
Cut some of the sky for our dinner lighting.
Come back shirtless. Octagon prince memory.
Dad, you raised a serpent in the grass.

P.S. Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley boys, I love you all.

More blogs to come.

My Recent Video Blog

2009-05-04T18:59:00.000-07:00

I can't get enough of these guys. I'm waltzing to my death to Nite Versions.

A miniature bit of inspiration on and off the drum set.

Deer Tick, a fine little secret of 2009. I'll be seeing them in Austin in July.

Its a nice video. I've been listening to this song on my walk to class from Kansas. It gives me the chills, something to relate to my tired bickering.

They're cliche now and I still get buck to them.

I want to start doing push ups to this ultra violence. But I'll stick to no bread.

RAVE

2009-04-21T21:20:00.000-07:00

I'm listening to Daft Punk's Essential Mix from the 90's, my first time. And I'm wondering how to put a rave in perspective, in words. With many, the e talking takes control so I guess its appropriate to start there. The three of us, Erik, Cesar, and I arrived to The News all tea'd out to see The Bloody Beetroots. The line was gargantuan with kids from across the border making the bulk of the crowd. Cesar got in no waiting attached with his friends, Click Click Bang. Erik and I later got the star treatment and went to the front. We went to the bar upstairs and shared a Tecate or two. My first time going to the bathroom provided the initial side effect of tea: loss of intelligence. My hands went down to my zipper but they had forgotten the procedure to going number one. After finally returning from my rudimentary self, I admired the humor in my position and thought about using that scene as starters for my upcoming stand up routine, coming this summer. I then got the first burst of the radio, so began the e talking. We went to the balcony and caught Click Click Bang from Albuquerque. Once the mood captures your attention, you divorce yourself from everyone. You gain this autonomy from your friends and family and only the present counts. I went downstairs and get mixed in the crowd. From then on hydration would play a major part of my evening. Erik was a generous chap the whole night with his water, so were the myriad of kids in the crowd, whether it be water, ice, or Coca Cola. I have to say that Click Click Bang took the night. They had a longer set and caught the attention of the crowd more than the latter of the night. Everyone was jumping and dancing and touching themselves. I had someones baggie of Vick's vapor rub in my front pocket and was the Vick's viceroy for the night. the waves were coming, countless, filling my entire body. Any contact from any one was stellar. I met a fellow chap in the crowd who refilled my radio and just in time for the Bloody Beetroots. Like I mentioned, they were great but not the kings of the night. I give the crown to the kings from Albuquerque. They started and ended their set with Warp. They played every remix I have of them on my iTunes including the popular, Cornelius. I'm usually in a minimal state with my movements and demeanor. But for the climax of their set I was raising cane and jumping and getting buck on the dance floor. I saw a few fights and douchers in the crowd but that didn't deter my great time. It was for the record books, and for the photo album if I had a camera.

And in California my brother and friends enjoyed great performances from my favorite djs including The Beetroots.

MSTRKRFT.

John Legend with MSTRKRFT.

The whole lot. Para One. Gaspard from Justice. So Me. Alex and Andie. Pictures by Alex. Thanks to Alex for letting me post these pictures. I was really happy for his adventure and wanted to share with everyone.

Bang Bang

2009-04-20T19:05:00.000-07:00

Easter

2009-04-12T21:38:00.000-07:00

I was driving home from Village Inn tonight and had I'm From Barcelona in mind. The song, "Chickenpox." Its a great song, but "great song" hardly gets the tune and words right in description. I hummed some of the melody and the first lyrics. "You can't have it once you've had it." Thinking about the song, you can't chickenpox more than once unless you have shitty luck and you can't have your youth once you've had it. I don't remember having chickenpox. I hope I had it because how the saying goes is pretty disconcerting: Its best to have chickenpox when you're little because as an adult you'll get an angrier outbreak and die a painful lonely death. But I can remember my youth and I hope to never bury it albeit I have a tattoo saying otherwise.

Today was a good Easter. It was a good Easter because there wasn't anything Easter about it. I woke up late and showered and went to the library to do some belated research for a class debate on apartheid in South Africa. The city was a ghost town the drive there, everyone in their homes eating and drinking. Listening to At The Drive In on my headphones-a dangerous thing to do behind the wheel but my only means to disrupt the silence in my car-I hoped no one would be there and saving myself the embarrassment of being the only asshole not at some family gathering. But there were people there and it really didn't matter. We were all heathens, together, online and printing shit for homework.

After the library I went home and made a quick breakfast/lunch and watched an episode of Futurama. I then went to Jessica's grama's house to pick her up. I took a glance of her collection of animal figurines in the front yard, nice novelties to give the place a friendly welcome. Bunch of frogs and red cheeked gnomes. We got in the car and headed east for Harley Davidson to see Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band. We saw them last year in Marfa for free. Today was the same with a donation of food or other perishables for orphans in Juarez. We met up with Priscilla and Gabe and caught a beautiful set, an El Paso twilight as the background as an extra. The crowd was ecstatic, almost obnoxious at some points, probably East Siders, ha. They played songs from their freshman album and a few new ones from their sophomore to be released in a few weeks. I got the shakes from the set, I even was in a trance for a few solo songs just with Conor. A great lyricist, a great poet, a novelist really. It was a very spiritual show for me, I wish I had more of them.

Photos by Jessica.

At the end we tried to get Jessica's raffle ticket signed but the man, the policeman shut down the party and so we headed for our cars. Jessica, Gabe, and I went to Village Inn by UTEP and enjoyed a nice meal. We played tic tac toe, we had trouble deciding on the ever-expanding menu. I decided what I wanted and then found out breakfast was served anytime of the day and I had to go back and reaffirm my decision. We talked about cults, movies, drugs, Coachella, Asia, and The Doors. Eventually we paid our bills, Jessica and Gabe both touched my face in the parking lot then laughed, me completely oblivious to the fact and we said our good-byes. Then I drove home.

Tote Me

2009-04-11T13:44:00.000-07:00

I'm a man who loves a good tote bag.

I bought these two bad boys from overseas and I'm super excited to debut them in school. The applications are endless. They're also good for a little grocery shopping, shoplifting, going to a picnic, and antiquing.

William Faulkner. Shirtless, making babies with the typewriter.

Ernest Hemingway. Pensive at work. Mothers, lock your daughters. This matador goes for the kill.

I was having fun looking for old pictures of some of my favorite writers and influences. Here's Hunter Thompson when he had hair. Rum Diary era I'm thinking.

These guys are fucking the buzz. We're lucky there wasn't an embargo on British goods in the 60's.

And MC5. I saw this video in class. Fuckin' tough!

The Who

2009-04-06T20:31:00.000-07:00

It's pretty belated, but I recently fell in love with The Who. Maybe its a generational thing. In high school everyone wore Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin 197-whatever tour t-shirts but it was more about the persona and finding something to match your Birkenstocks.

These YouTube videos have rocked my world. This is before the "industry of cool." This is a rock n' roll to call your own. Now that I think about it, no one wore The Who on their clothes in high school.

Maybe that extra-fried "hippie" had one lost, behind his bed frame collecting dust with a bunch of empty Cheetos bags.

Ultra-Everything

2009-04-03T11:38:00.000-07:00

The Bronx at Mess With Texas Three. You can see a bunch of us El Paso droogs moving around and causing some ultra violence.

The Bronx at Emos during SXSW. I'm the guy with the blue shirt and the shoes in the air are mine. RIP Sperry's.

The Bloody Beetroots are coming and you should go. A nice place to find a devotchka of your own.

And I'm reading A Clockwork Orange. The introduction by Burgess helps to bring everything in a clockwork motion, making you very empathetic. Alex is another Holden Coffield.

The Bronx The Black Lips: show reviews at sxsw

2009-03-23T20:39:00.000-07:00

The Bronx at inside Emos Wednesday at the Brooklyn Vegan show during SXSW.

It was the first day of SXSW. We caught a free showcase outside Emos with bands we didn't care for-it was mostly admiring the high-rise denim revival and how band members resembled our friends-and free Lonestar. We were just killing time before The Bronx played across the street. As time grew closer we entered Emos. We stayed in the patio waiting some more, buying beers, talking to the band like a little school girl fan, and catching up with other South By veterans. We downed the last beer and went inside to wait. I began to get nervous. Like waiting for a car crash to happen in a busy intersection. The drunks in the crowd shared their enthusiasm for what was to happen. Still nervous. They finally got on stage. They began with Stop the Bleeding. Twenty seconds in I lost my voice and I was exhausted like I had jogged miles wearing cement shoes but I kept. I was kicking, shoving, hip dancing, yelping whatever choruses and verses I could afford from my leathery chords, and falling endless times. The Bronx played favorites of mine like Heart Attack American from The Bronx I and Shitty Future from II. I was wearing my boat shoes and I lost them quick. Didn't matter much. Boots and sneakers were stomping my red hot socks the remainder of the show. Friends told me they would come across one or the pair throughout the show and tried to salvage them but it was useless in the chaos. At one point I found them but I just threw them on stage. Quite stupid now that I can look back. A thirty minute set left me smelling like a dumpster. Exhausted and fulfilled. It hurts to cough and laugh. I bruised like a fruit. A friend says I need more vitamin C in my diet.

The Black Lips at Mess With Texas 3 Saturday

It was the last set of Mess With Texas 3, the sun setting down. Absorbed in the large crowd, all of them sweatied and bruised from the Circle Jerks moments prior, I joined them waited for the Black Lips to start. I slowly moved to the front finding crevices in the crowd. I could see the band get ready: awesome short shorts, gold teeth, and Pilgrim attire. My allotted space became few and I knew the crowd would be a wave and we would all be falling atop each other side to side and back and forth for the entirety. The back of the stage was filled with scenester girls wearing whatever fashion ads filled the latest Nylon. They weren't into punk music but all their subscribed blogs did so there they were. The shit finally started, mostly new songs from the latest release, 200 million thousand. I was stoked and howling. I was manhandled and shoved around till I made my debut at the front of the stage. Our favorite songs from Good Bad Not Evil were done along with others hidden in the rough. I sang what I could, trying to keep my arms intact and my feet on the stiff ground, praying I wouldn't lose my last pair of shoes, my Vans, the key word is slip. Sweat pouring and bodies converging endlessly like Mexican jumping beans on acid. My recent stick n' poke was rubbing on sweaty coarse bodies causing that unbearable static on the flesh. King Kahn came out and did a song with the Lips. I raised an arms out when I could; though cautious, I didn't want it to come off in the tempest. It was two hells, maybe mirrored reflections, everyone singing, smiling, having a buck of a time. Girls bras were thrown on stage, I counted three. At one point and to paraphrase, they said on the mic, Jesus fed 5000 people. We can do better. Out came bags of McDonalds filled with dollar burgers. And how they flew! Wrappers and cheese fell like confetti on the crowd. I got a piece of bread in my mouth. The patties that made their return to the stage were pitched back to the crowd with the backs of their guitars, a fast food minor league game. My bruises doubled and I again smelled something fierce and maddened. After the last pattie took flight and every song and bead of sweat was exerted the Lips finished their set. Everyone gave their thanks and we dissipated to our caves before the second round at night.

February called in sick

2009-02-09T17:45:00.000-08:00

I have no camera, digital or otherwise. I probably won't get one till late in the year when I'm working out of El Paso. So I want to compensate this blog, my only voice online with other stuff and stealing friends' pictures. Yesterday I fell off my bicycle. I took a, lets say, hour and one half ride to clear my mind. I intended it to be short, but alas, all my questions and dilemmas weren't making themselves clear so the ride continued. Applying too much pressure on your brakes will make your bicycle fly forward, and you're invited for the fall.

Raise your hand if you love Crayola. I've rekindled my love for the brand recently.
I'm close to writing thirty journals. The stories and poems are getting longer and less creative, the caricatures are getting uglier, and I never seem to find myself emotionally.

This is late in my life but I'm a recently converted sock enthusiast. So my Mom buys me socks and underwear, 'cause I'd be lost in that aisle if I had to choose, and she finally goes beyond the realm of plain white and gets me some baller-status, I'm getting buck tonight, socks. Fuck yeah, and thank you, Mom.

One morning before I ultimately decided to ditch my volunteer work, I was listening to Flosstradamus and got the idea to get a diamond tattoo. My brother drew up a diamond and I got it hours later. Having no camera, I drew up its location on my arm. If you've seen my Texas tattoo, then you know its placement. Its scabbing right now which is an awesome and tedious experience.

Raves are the new Korn concert here in El Paso, Texas. Its the perfect excuse for e-talking on a Friday night. El Paso is getting buck this year with the rave and electro and dance and techno and house and whatever you call the noise that asshole with the laptop is making scene. With the drug war in Juarez all the DJs are coming instead to El Paso. Great news for us. An upcoming show we should all attend is The Bloody Beetroots. They play April 17th at 69, the night before their Coachella appearance. This video is a nice teaser to their show. Granted they look like and probably are rock star assholes, but you don't have to talk to them. Just roll and touch yourself. I did that one time. Awesome.

Slayer

2009-01-22T18:41:00.000-08:00

Ever wonder how records were made in 1937.

I've always wanted to be a Slayer fan. One day.

I love Kool-Aid. And you should too.

The Big Lebowski in two minutes. A classic rebirthed.

My next Indian shirt. Yes!

Us at Acid Girls after some of us got kicked out and others followed. But it was only five bucks, so fuck it.

Peruse This Garb

2009-01-20T19:34:00.000-08:00

BBC2 Culture Show ft. Soulwax
Uploaded by Frauleinnoise

I found this sweet documentary about Soulwax.
Bear and Horse Indian jewelry. Making demigods out of the wilderness.

Indian bowler ties I found online. Goddamn, you'd be the hot shit at the next reservation meeting.
Now your Lego's can engage in mass murder, stealth, with a side of jihad.
I always wanted Lego to make a Batman, and they did. Now the kids can fight terrorism in miniature proportions.

So it was a quick dream. It was an aerial shot, so I'm thinking I was in a helicopter during this dream. The helicopter was doing its thing and following an interstate. There was a congestion of deer on the interstate. And then fucking bears were up in their shit. Standard American bears. And some were pink. Later I discovered through my keen observation that these bears weren't pink by birth. They were fucking feasting on the fauna. I guess their blood was neon pink. Even in dreams the bear persona follows me.
Daniel and I drove to Austin this past weekend to visit Jessica and Erik and the rest of the Austin family. We had lots of sushi and Lonestar and watched lots of Arrested Development. I saw some dog dick at Town Lake and drank a lot of redbulls on the drives. We had a great time. Picture taken by Daniel's camera. I named it George Michael

list me some reasons

2009-01-11T13:05:00.000-08:00

Its a new year and I'm camera-less. I'm thinking of bringing back the disposable camera. Hopefully, this revival will work out better than my fanny pack and use of the word, boss, like, that's boss, yo, revival.
Here are two lists i wrote down recently, and more to come as the creativity settles. Its going to be a good year.

10 THINGS TO KEEP IN YOUR POCKET AT ALL TIMES, in no particular order
1) Change. The backbone of buying Steel Reserves minutes before buying time is over.
2) Lighter. Cigarettes, weed, meth, cocaine, heroin, Eric Clapton live. They all need this.
3) Movie ticket stub. Pull it out during an awkward silence and milk the shit out of how much Valkyrie sucked.
4) Lint. Insulation never hurt anybody.
5) Phone. Nothing like being sterile with a thing that veers radiation in all directions, so say the guys that think everything causes cancer.
6) Keys. 'Cause everyone should have a, I fell on my keys, story.
7) Lip balm. Its much like crack cocaine, the addiction, but they sell it at Walgreens.
8) Receipts. Handy parchment for when you receive new digits or you have to imdb a movie when you get home.
9) Hanky. We all need a snot rag, 'cause strangers' couch cushions won't suffice.
10) Hands. Glove substitute. And you can cover up an erection in public pretty well.

5 WAYS ARACHNOPHOBIA [THE MOVIE] HAUNTED MY CHILDHOOD
1) Checking every corner and ceiling before going to sleep.
2) Feeling the inside of my toilet with my hand before going number two.
3) Any shoe on the floor was a possible meeting place for eight-legged cocksuckers.
4) No perusing the A section at Blockbuster.
5) Freaking out of my bed at night when my hand touched some food crumbs.

December*

2008-12-31T02:25:00.000-08:00

*Pictures taken by everyone. Happy New Year, El Paso.

VIDEO (music, tv, book)

2008-12-09T21:21:00.000-08:00

Sunday Night Marfa Drive*

2008-11-24T15:02:00.001-08:00

Woke up Sunday morning to two missed Cesar calls. Called him, heard the news. Relayed the news to Jessica. Two hours later we were Marfa bound to see Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band. We had no tickets. I checked online and they were sold out and a phone call told us it was at capacity. We had our doubts and our hopes and we said, fuck it, lets do it. Our fallout plan was eating at Marfa's Sonic.
We arrived two and a half hours later. Cesar led the way into the venue. He walked in and no one was stationed at the reception table and he headed in, and so did Jessica and I. We found awesome seats and free wine and beer was being served. We met up with Duran and company. It was a close to two hour set. It was beautiful. Marfa was the last date of the Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band world tour and you could tell. Everyone let loose and it was a party on stage with everyone involved playing an instrument, roadies and all. Conor is a funny witty man that loves his band and friends. His banter and use of "fuck" is amazing. He played one song off Cassadaga which was cool. Everyone in the band had their own song they sung which was nice. An epic show for the three of us. Warm feelings when I remember.
Cesar at Prada. He caught a great deal on the road: 20 cent apples.
Jessica at Prada. Afraid of the dark but can still be an awesome roadie on road trips.
I totally neglected my homework for this trip. But I had super fun and loved Cesar and Jessica's company. We had a fantastic Wendy's dinner after the show in Van Horn.
Top two quotes of the trip, paraphrased:
1) What mile marker are you?
2) Watch out, its a truck!
*Pictures taken from Jessica's camera phone. Not great pictures, but rich in sentimental value.

Austin November*^

2008-11-16T13:19:00.000-08:00

An argument on I-54 because I'd been listening to electronica for ten hours; they were drinking, smoking illegal substances, and I couldn't catch a break with simple directions. Too cavalier, these kids.

Getting my groove on finally with some Lonies and some camouflaged beer which made no sense. Unless you're hunting. So you're drinking and carrying a gun and you fear that your un-camouflaged beer can will give you away to the harmless deer. And we hit an armadillo on the drive to Austin.

My OG friend, Chris Lea made it out for the weekend. He brought a skull beer bong with him. Val was really taken by it.

There was a liquidation sale at the 'stache emporium on Riverside.

I look like a Lebanese Charlie Chaplin.

Blaine, loving his new 'stache and the very viable Natural Light 24 pack.

Trail of Dead. One of many bands that is finally suffering from old age. Good set though. Oh, and the punk stage. A bunch of fat old men playing songs once re-popularized in the Tony Hawk video game franchise.

Sarah and Michele: Austin mamas. Daniel and Raul: El Paso Casanovas.

Ben Nichols and Raul. Holy Shit! Picture of the year.

Sarah Monster. I like her feather assortment. Very speakeasy flapper!

It was a good weekend. Nice to be out of town for a few days. Got to see some beautiful friends. And look at those awesome side burns. I've been feeding them nothing but American ground beef. I want to thank Arto, Daniel, and Red Bull for the backstage pass for Fun x3 Fest. The open bar was awesome and there I got to meet Ben Nichols. P.S. Love everyone at Shake H.

*All pictures by Daniel.

^Reckless driving by James. Ha!

Beautiful Rave Girl

2008-11-02T21:51:00.000-08:00

I'm sure you're unstable. Too many drugs and not enough talks with Mom. I like your clothes, must've bought 'em online. Couldn't find them here. Fiery hair that I could swallow full and be content for the night.

Your face I can't remove from this dejection. And I already forgot how you look. Just stare at you like a creep, but I'm ten steps behind your first impressions of me.

In silence we can find our way back.

Stick N Poke 08

2008-10-26T12:05:00.000-07:00

My love rack. No magazines after Spring 07 allowed.
Cecil. The fifth wheel of H.E.A.L.T.H. and the third leg of our hearts.
The little tyke* got woken up and wondered out his bedroom to see what the commotion was. Stick and Poke, yeah!
I cringe. I cry. I moan. I scream. I yelp. I yell. I chuckle. I sweat. Little volcanoes were erupting on my skin. Like poking an open wound with a switchblade. And so many more things.
A Cecil feather. I'm damn proud of his work. I took it like a fucking infant, but I took it nonetheless.
Cecil getting work done. They want to reinvent rock paper scissors with tattooed weapons on each finger. I'm thinking about getting a two by four with a nail on my finger. That's a good weapon. Oh, a grenade. I'm getting a grenade on my finger!
El Paso Hot Button. Goddamn, this man could rock his shit out. A one man heart breaker, soul taker, and rock n roll maker.
The Chinese Stars. Too much rough housing, and sloppy dancing, and raisins grinding with white trash Heath Ledger Joker makeup floozies.
Anne Marie and Bob's Pumpkin Carving Party of 2008. My first pumpkin carving ever. This is hour two of my pumpkin. I hardly touched my beer and never made eye contact with anyone, save for my five minute breaks.
End result. Top pumpkin is Daniels. Mine is the Party Bat.
Afterward, we went to our friend, Justin's 22nd birthday party. We met some new friends and saw a lot of sloppy fresas. Girls don't seem to care if you walk in on them in the bathroom at a U.N. party. I felt left out without a flag, but I finally got the 50 states.
Saturday, we went to an East Side party where Blaine and Aaron spun. Funny thing about the East Side. Its not anything in conversation. But the drive back from, you begin to talk shit about the place. And it does suck.
*Not a real penis, its plastic. Don't report me!

Its been time, brother

2008-10-19T14:36:00.000-07:00

I'm twenty one. Its less than a year from graduation and "fucked" is an understatement.
Sunday Bicycle Society. They sure love The Tap and the Sun Bowl. I recently got the hang of skidding on a bicycle. It'd be funner on a fixed gear.
The undead, the dead, and a cougar. Watch out, young men. This one has big claws!
James and the Giant Fro. Look at the combing action!
Chino's birthday, and no one told me it was a bandanna themed party. I looked like an idiot.
Kenley, you were a vocal bitch, and a saint. But Leanne got the best of us both. Who cares about the other one!
Daniel at Black Market. I saw a lot of people I haven't spoken to in years. Beers were three dollars and up as always!
Sometimes I write my Mom letters explaining why the car won't be parked outside in the morning.
Blaine recently got his first tattoo, by Daniel. It was a double whammy. His love of skating and El Paso.
I finished The Rum Diary. And I'm close to finishing The Road. I last stopped on a page of cannibalism on The Road. I always found cannibalism fascinating but after this book, I'll pass on any impulse during my apocalypse.

You're a Fruit

2008-10-01T10:52:00.000-07:00

I've been under the weather lately. Waking up to cobwebs of moco in my nostrils and filling the banister with tissues of colors: white, vanilla, yellow, and green. But at least I'm not HIV positive. This is my attire for when I feel bad. MJ gave me this blanket in the winter of 2005. Thanx, babe. You'll catch me doing a Dracula pose if you live with me.
I started doing caricatures. I have another batch that takes inspiration from Mitch Clem but I'll reveal that one later. I made some back stories for these three gentlemen. Chuck engages in recreation, most notably buying prostitutes during his work break at Red Lobster. Every pay day or when they disperse tips he goes to the back alleys or bad sides of town and gets a lucky toothless lady to unwrap his plantain. Scooter is a petty thief who steals shit he doesn't need. You'll find maxipads, light bulbs, and novelty t-shirts from Walgreens in the trunk of his car. Tick is a retired drug mule that now works at Smash Hit Videos and devotes his extra time to his cat's blog.
Erick, Jessica, and I went to Beck and MGMT. Yasmin was nice to give me a birds view shot of us. You can see me holding an overpriced light beer. They also served five dollar weak margaritas.
Afterward, we went to Marlyn's party somewhere on Los Angeles. Everyone was dancing and making blunts and talking about Beck and MGMT. I was apologizing to everyone that I weirded out earlier at the show.
Jessica and I then took a nice walk to the second Beck/MGMT show downtown. We walked with my Carta Blanca and danced a little. I then bought a lot of Shiners at the coffee shop. I met up with Wolf Motherfucker, and the performers from that show. I was feeling up someone's beard at the show but I don't remember the details. I think it was Blake. Sorry!
MGMT played Electric Feel which I missed at the official show. Beck's guitarist is a cute goddess that is loved by everyone she meets. And Beck is, like, five five. But he seems to love El Paso so god bless that little angel.
This is a goddamn sexy picture of MGMT.
Sunday I joined the boys on their Sunday ride. I thought of it more as a prolonged ride to the Tap, Blaine's idea every time I'm sure. We loitered at the Sun Bowl while everyone on a fixed gear did tricks and stuff. I broke off around Sunset and rode back to my car and headed home for some homework.
Monday I went to see The Mars Volta with my friend, Mark, a number one fan of The Volta, and an ex-Juggalo, and Rick. I met up with Rob, Pete, Taty, and Hola. It was my first time seeing the band and it felt good to pay only fifteen bucks. The drummer was goddamn amazing. However, I wished there were more dance moves on stage like I had been promised on their many Youtube videos.
Danielson is back in town and that means trouble for my liver. I'm excited for the fun times ahead and the many Halloween parties and costumes, and for Soulwax on November 1st.

Pirates, yo

2008-09-22T16:53:00.000-07:00

So it was a good weekend. Matt Talley came in town and we had ourselves some Carta Blanca's and Mickeys' together, other people's drinks. We went to 3 1/2 parties on Friday. The first stop was my friend, Matt M., who had his b-day party; a lot of Gatti kids showed up. A few lucky girls would be beaten, raped, and recorded!
Matt Talley (the other Matt I know), myself, and Wolf Motherfucker.
We went to a Le Disko dj party, i guess. It was the same people too cool to move or dance and tried their damnedest to maintain their cool posture and not mess up their hair. Eh, it was free.
I feel like John Madden. OK. Yellow: the situation, two kids scamming in the back unaware that I have a camera. Red: look at the leg action, goddamn. Sky Blue: that necking, fucking shit. I'll have all of the above.
Saturday was the battle of I-10. I rode my new bicycle around Kern and took some nice pictures of the El Paso view. Atop Rim Road it was a nice moment to myself. Standing on rocks with weeds seeping in between, making the sound of fresh bells as the wind cascaded down to earth. Oh, yeah!
Kyrha, myself, and Jessica brushed our teeth at Jessica's. It was awesome.
We went to a pirate themed party. They had a treasure chest of booty, jello shots. They spent too much money on decorations and plastic containers but it was a realistic atmosphere. We later got kicked out because our guests weren't appropriately dressed for the theme. It was geeky nerdy loser pirates that kicked us out. the fraternity of people your friends' loser older brother belongs to, that sort of deal.
Then we went to Geoff, Cecil, and Dave's for a round or two of Guitar Hero which I didn't partake. There was Risk, arguments, blood. This was the real pirate party we were looking for all along.
I'm currently reading The Rum Diary. I'm catching up on all the books soon to be made into movies as should you. Then you can make snotty and showy remarks after you leave the movie like, "the book was better," or "they should have casted this actor for this or that character."

Colorado, Monolith

2008-09-17T16:20:00.000-07:00

It was an eleven and a half drive to my Aunt and Uncle's house. Driving to Colorado you have to drive the entirety of New Mexico. Yes, I'm a hater of New Mexico. But not this trip. I found myself in a poetic state of merriment during the drive, something reminiscent of Cormac McCarthy. I found every sight beautiful, the clouds and mountains to start with. As if they were two entities birthed by the same mother, a beauty herself. It was great opening the windows of the Aveo and smelling nature, unfiltered. When nature is not a landscape, and not on the defensive. Smelling the bark and the wet dirt, the resonating tar of old roads and the cry of a lonesome prey. Stuff like that. Las Cruces and Albuquerque are still shit pools.
My cousin has custom-made Spiderman curtains. Fuck yeah!
Alex and I had a carousel when we were young. Now its up in Denver gaining miles.
I love their house. And I love the yearround sweater weather in Colorado. So many fashion-accessory options!
Some red rocks at Red Rocks.
Jukebox the Ghost. A fun lesson in fun. They were goddamn amazing. I'm not taking out their CD from my car for a long time.
A band of great banter and lovely songs about, pick your topic.
Alex and I enjoyed seven dollar beers during the festival. It was a steal, I think. I just made fun of the bands to myself during the cold stupor. The following bands suck/are pussies: Handsome Furs, The Rosewood Thieves, some random old comedian during sets, and Tokyo Police Club.
The VIP section, and apparently some guy getting a rejection slip from the bountiful table of Powerade, cookies, and muffins.
Tilly and the Wall. Their tapdancer is gorgeous. And now I want to tap dance. I think I would do well. I could audition for a Rocky Horror somewhere.
Tilly rocked me and my seven dollar Blue Moon. Oh, I might be in a CSS/Tilly DVD. I'll be playing the drunk obnoxious guy in the front row.
Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings. the best soul jazz mama ever. They covered a James Brown song that fucking killed. And some random fat black guy in costume, named TRL was on stage.
There were so many cute photographers at Monolith. Jesus! Band of Horses were a new favorite. It's a shame I didn't get into them earlier. A great performance and an equally great synergy with the crowd. I didn't eat for fourteen hours and I got sick toward the end of the festival. Fuck it, Justice is next!
You can't put words to a spiritual awakening. The set started with Genesis.
I was a goddamn raver during their set. Sadly, they had to cut their set, like, twenty minutes short because of technical difficulties. Xavier threw his keyboard to the floor twice. It was still great!
It was great to see the family. I loved the weather, and I loved getting sick and drinking awesome seven dollar beer while watching some favorite bands of mine.
my top five bands of the festival:
1) Justice
2) Jukebox the Ghost
3) Tilly and the Wall
4) Band of Horses
5) Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings
my top two questions to Alex on the road:
1) What if it hurt to be a cloud?
2) Are some animals afraid of the dark?

Best Fwends

2008-09-16T10:26:00.001-07:00

...are
a fun
time for kids in need of a
a break from the
dangers of public and domestic.

Bruised

2008-09-07T15:05:00.000-07:00

To start off. The hair above the red line is brand spankin' new. I predict by the year 2010 I'll be able to unbutton one more button and show the mamas the total hairy package. And yes, I have hairy nipples.
This is the remainder of a two week long bruise. Fidel, Lalo, and Day and myself took it upon ourselves to punch each other after a visit to Mulligan's, a bar that plays only new metal on the jukebox. Drinking a bloody Mary during Disturbed. Awesome!
UT vs UTEP. The halftime was great. the UTEP band did an homage to Michael Jackson: The King of Pop. They did Billy Jean, Smooth Criminal, and Thriller. They actually put down their instruments and did the Thriller dance at the end. It was good!
Days prior, Tony and Geoff had a drinking contest at their place. This is the scoreboard taped to their wall. It was a tie.
And they took score of the pee pee times, and Tony's one poo poo time. I feel you recharge your batteries when you poop, so Tony had the advantage after he finished wiping.
A sacred custom. Back at Geoff's, Dave's, and Tony's, people were marking their servings. It was Dave's birthday at midnight. Happy Birthday, Dave! The marking system went as follows. O = beer. I = toke of Mary Jane. X = serving of liquor. ^ = cocaine. And so on. Tony took the bank with the X's. Once we left the house and headed to the bars, we forgot the pen. Tony suggested the honor system. I'm sure Tony had a black arm by the time he passed out on the street, if he had a pen. It was just O's and lines for me, thank God.
A cute black Lab drinking us under our knees at a party somewhere. People were playing music out of Jamaican flag colored instruments and weird looking bongs were smoking.
Alex drove me home. I went number two or I went number one sitting down. Anyway. I still had my camera in my front pocket and the pictures flew. I took, like, twenty pictures of me on the porcelain seat.

Searching the Union Part Two

2008-08-18T16:43:00.000-07:00

Atlanta, Georgia. A black crackhead came my way and glanced at my Jonny Quest tattoo and unearthed a twenty minute dialogue about 60's cartoon programming. He finally came out with his plea for money for some public urination ticket. My small budget did not extend any sympathy for him, sadly. He was also a Thundercats fan. He couldn't remember which cat was "the brother."
Wealthy Whore Entertainment played the show in Atlanta. Sex enthusiasts that use dildos for percussion sticks and wear sex ready apparel. A fan of theirs-a lady wearing a schoolgirl costume and granny panties-offered me advice about sexual liberation and freedom. Your friends can be assholes sometimes.
Faygo: the official drink of all Juggalos. Lalo, an ex-Juggalo, bought a bottle somewhere in the South.
Florida. We arrived to Pensacola to hear about hurricane warnings and tropical storms ready to fuck shit up in the orange license plate state. The rain was heavy there and the weather, interesting.
Our hosts in Pensacola took us to Hobo Beach. Its a nice secluded area with a big fucking tree and dead jellyfish on the shore, quadriplegic jellyfish. If you rubbed them, they would remind you of glow sticks I'm sure. A note on Pensacola. It apparently has the most churches per square mile. I guess its retaliation for the influx of old Jews populating the state.
The great Mississippi River again. Its such a behemoth of a landmark. A public cemetery for the tides of our country's past, and all that jazz.
Hobomouth at the Parlor in Austin. Its the hottest pizza parlor in the world, sweating my shit like an endured servant. The pizza was good and the pints of Lonestar were overpriced, I thought. Allen Idle played an awesome set. Hearing his work in MJ's car didn't compare to his live performance. Burying the demons one song at a time.
Joe, Dave, Geoff, and myself and some other friends went downtown. I had my first Irish car bomb; yummy. We met up with everyone's favorite, Erik, and Emmanuel. We went to Beauty Bar and caught a lot of El Paso peeps. Lots of fun and laughs. I later masturbated for the first time in nine days at a house in the outskirts of Austin, and we had Freebirds. The shower where I touched myself was small so I felt awkward, and suicidal.
Geoff's always trying to unbutton guys shirts. I know he has a thing for me. I tried to kiss him but I couldn't; I cherish our friendship too much to ruin it.
Our last stop was San Antonio where everyone had their best sets. It was the best way to end the tour. We left at 1:30am. Ten hours to home. We gave our thoughts about the tour on the drive. It was fun to recap on all the emotional bullshit and great times we all shared.
I made some lists of things on the tour. Here they are:
Cool Words: Dixie, Diva
People that died while on tour: Bernie Mac, Isaac Hayes
Top bands I saw on tour: 1) Necrobeast 2) Jonesin' 3) Hobomouth 4) The Anchor 5) WWE

Searching the Union Part One

2008-08-17T12:27:00.000-07:00

Vans for homes. Dave, Joe, Geoff, Aaron, Lalo, Cody, MJ, Myself, and a dog with a huge vagina, Pende, embarked on an eleven day tour of the East Coast and the South. It was a life changing experience that broke emotional and geographical barriers. We drove through and visited the listed states: Texas, Arkansas, Tennessee, Ohio, West Virginia, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Washington D.C., Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey, New York, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Florida, Mississippi, and Louisiana. Here are some memorable pictures from those places.
We were in Little Rock, Arkansas for, like, half an hour. We saw a lot of tall t's and a bitch-ass girl fight inside a McDonalds. The girls were ruthless. We were always getting lost and/or needing directions and McDonalds is a sure thing for WiFi.
Somewhere in the South, Lalo got himself a rub-on tattoo.
In Cincinnati, we went to White Castle. It was the biggest fast food disappointment of my life.
So apparently I look like Jon Lovitz, Jason Biggs, Ringo Starr, and now a fucking bear. They have the 2nd amendment joke, the right to bear arms.
Yuengling Lager is the coolest beer I had on tour. I first had it in Pittsburgh for a dollar a draft at Howlers Cafe. We had it again in Richmond.
Aaron at Ramakin's in Richmond. Richmond sucks, I'm sorry, it does. We were there for two fucking days. I paid a night charge to see Pineapple Express, which also sucked. But it was an experience, of course, and again we slept in parking lots. The Buckeye way!
We drove to our nations capital. We couldn't find parking, so we just drove around until we got sick of it. This is one of the few pictures I took while in the lions den. That is one huge lobster.
The Delaware Bridge. On our way to New York. Too many fucking tolls, and bastard directions.
We met up with Arto, Daniel, and Arto in Soho. It was a great time and I now love NYC! The ladies were smoking; everyone looked like Zooey Deschanel.
Somewhere on the road, we landed ourselves in the town of Goochland. I don't remember what state. Apparently, the worst toilet in history is located in Goochland.
Part Two coming soon.

Tennessee

2008-08-16T17:00:00.001-07:00

One day in Tennessee. Charles and BA told me how awesome a state it is, the best some conclude. But the Lonestar will always be my kingdom. We arrived in Memphis and went to the visitors center where I took a myriad of pictures. Little did I know I had no film in my camera!
I believe the great city of Memphis bought the pyramid from Stargate and brought it down south.
The Mississippi River is quite a view. Reminiscent of the great novels that paved our roads and identities in our country. A fucking dirty river from the Memphis landscape. Syringes, wow!
I found this smelly frame in the water. I carried it around downtown till I realized we would have to endure that smell in the van for another 10ish days. The frame still resides in Memphis.
We found a bodega and a liquor store, bought some PBR and necessities for sandwiches and drove to Nashville. On the drive we got drunk and heard retold sex stories and other embarrassing anecdotes. Nashville arrived and By Tomorrow, Aaron, Pende, and I headed downtown. There's this alley downtown that's practically a red light district. Public drinking among other departures from the law. We then went exploring and went through many Honky Tonk intersections. Not my style but very enticing and a new environment.
We returned to sin alley when downtown didn't suit our thirst for whatever. A sign read, "Nude Karaoke." I immediately thought, naked girls with mics singing Journey; or at least ourselves naked on a stage singing ballads. But it was a goddamn strip club. False advertising, I know!
It was my first American strip club. The times in Juarez, Mexico were awkward and uncomfortable for me and here was no different. The girls had behemoth nipples, like, coaster size, and bad teeth.
I was stuck talking to one girl who was trying to get a rise out of me, and perhaps, purchase a lap dance. I played dumb and broke. That song "I'll be waiting...Time after time," from the 90s came on the PA. She started to converse about the song and how that was the remix. I tried to share her enthusiasm and finally got the idea to go to the bathroom. I walked toward the bathroom to at least wash my hands but wasn't allowed. My prognosis: The big black guy safeguarding the bathroom was negotiating the sale of sexual favors in the bathroom, maybe drugs, maybe baseball cards. Who knows!
I returned to my seat and the nuisance of a stripper left. The next girl came on. She was decent, I guess, but had Green Day playing during her performance. She later asked my friend, Geoff from By Tomorrow, if he and I were Jewish. Yes, the nose is a hint. I also saw my first black vagina. Nothing impressive. It reminded me of a burnt hot dog bun. After finally getting bored, we decided to leave. By the exit was a nice simple buffet of meatballs and chicken nuggets. The only severance from this awkward fest. The meatballs made the ten dollar cover worth it.
I love Tennessee!

Austin July 25

2008-07-28T12:51:00.000-07:00

During the day I finally got to visit that toy shop near a Buffalo Exchange, near the Villas, near Guadalupe, near downtown. Somewhere. They had everything a five year old me would want.

Our night started after Wolf Parade. We got dropped off around Fifth street, Fidel, Erik, Sarah and I. We didn't have much money so we decided to walk the streets until something cheap came up. Our first stop was Bayou. I've never felt so black in that place. They had High Life on tap and once we hit the dance floor everyone ditched the dance lights. Of course, everyone and their grinding partner whispered about us. And there was a black paraplegic smoking weed.

Everyone had nice dance moves. We then went to the Troubadour where some guys were mcing. We asked the bartender if she had any deals. Of all the deals she remarked, ONE DOLLAR LONG ISLAND ICE TEAS was tattooed to our synapses. I bought everyone, like, three rounds or so. Do you know how many calories and how much alcohol comes in a Long Island?!

We again got in the groove of the atmosphere. Everyone was very drunk, in particular, Erik.

Fidel with the lovely bartender whose name I forgot. At two we left and headed to Wendy's off 35 to meet up with Priscilla our ride home. Sarah was speed walking while we all tried to catch up. Erik was in bad health and passed out at every stop from there on.

Sarah with a stomach ache after a salad and nuggets. That's what she gets for being a free spirit. So Priscilla picks us up in her truck and Fidel and Erik lay on the bed, or was it me? Passing a few exits on the freeway and we run out of gas. We manage to get off an exit and I get out and Fidel and I start to push the truck, on drive. Finally on neutral we start to push it to the next turn when a cop shows up. Open containers and a drunk passed out Erik. Fidel sweet talks the cop and tells us of a nearby gas station but doesn't help us at all. We push the car to an empty parking lot.

So Fidel and I collect, like, ten empty water bottles and walk and jog to the gas station which turned out to be, like, a two mile journey. We returned and drove to a gas station where we asked Erik for gas money. He said he couldn't though we were present when he broke a hundred dollar bill earlier in the night. We're all pissed off at Erik. We go to Sarah's friends house and feel uncomfortable. Erik passes out again. We decide to leave and leave Sarah there. Now its just Fidel, Priscilla, Erik and myself back at Michele's place. Erik passes out and so began our revenge.

We did a lot of things to Erik. Any nothing seemed to phase him. By the time we finished it was six thirty a.m. The list of things we did to Erik go as follows:

1 Placed keyboard at high volume next to his face till the batteries were exhausted.

2 Played guitar next to his face, accidentally elbowed his face.

3 Cut his [favorite] shirt with scissors.

4 Cut his hair, then placed said hair in an envelope that we later lost and then found.

5 Poured lotion on his face and ear.

6 Almost lit his face on fire with hairspray and lighter.

7 Converged frying pan and spatula to make the loudest noise ever. (We were crying.)

8 Put hot sauce in his mouth.

9 Two frying pans converging.

Austin July

2008-07-28T12:04:00.000-07:00

These are the boyz of the caravan for the weekend. But I stayed the entire week and dressed like a father figure, just button up shirts and boat shoes.

Sarah and Michele. Michele made us potato tacos at Matt's place. Matt is an awesome guy with the body of a fireman. Was that gay? This is Michele pre-hand burn.

This is Michele post-hand burn. She was going to dump the oil but her hand was too heavy and bam! Apparently mustard does the trick.

Walking, it actually takes place in Austin. So do kerchiefs on men.

Fidel, Michele, And I went down to Barton Springs and saw the pretty downtown at night. We also caught some geese, or something in the water.

This ominous picture is of the famous Matt Skiba. The Trio were fucking awe. They played a lot of songs from their Asian Man releases and closed their encore with Radio.

American Steel. A great example that punk can have a charming face.

Jumping off a three story bridge. Sarah and Fidel jumped off and I took the footage. Erik was thrown off.

This horrible picture is of Wolf Parade. Before the show, we hit the road to "Chief City" as Erik calls it and we got effing tea-ed up. I was a mannequin at the show trying not to tip over, or fall asleep. It was a good show and Erik bought me two Lonestar tall boys, yum. A side note on Austin shows. Nobody ever fuckin' moves. And if you try to stir shit up everyone marks you as a traitor to their evening. One example. At Alkaline Trio, Sarah tried to move closer to stage within the crowd and she almost got in a fight with a few stocky scene girls. Its a punk show, bitches. El Paso definitely has better crowds and response to bands.

These were just a few highlights of my week long trip to Austin. I took a lot of pictures and now I like Kanye West. I have to thank Michele for that. And she has satellite radio so we got to listen to a myriad of punk, ska, and soul. I also want to thank my long time friend, Chris Lea for showing us a good time and making the best BBQ ever. The man makes his own BBQ sauce!

OH, I also got into a car accident, my first. It was a head on collision. Everyone was fine and traffic had no problem in honking at us a few seconds after the crash. Some asshole maneuvered through the crash site. I wish I had my camera!

HEALTH

2008-07-27T02:49:00.000-07:00

"Fun to the tenth power!"

"An inspiration makes for a good bedfellow."
"A different kind of sweat; something to melt your scratched mirrors."
"Loud."
"Kick until the cows come home."
"This is their life and we got front row tickets. Someone slap me 'cause I'm dreaming."

"Punk rock is knocking at your door; tell that drunk to fuck off."

"Best El Paso show in a long time. And it was just a minute drive from my house!"

Rain

2008-07-02T19:32:00.000-07:00

Bret is in town. And when I thought my alcohol and drug consumption would be receding to boredom, that burly man at the airport changed it all. His first day back we cruised the Crews, did alcohol, witnessed shit-kicker parties, and other stuff Mom would disown me for.
Its starting to rain in El Paso. Its a breath of relief from the goddamn wet backs. So one time I was going number two and a scorpion was on the tile floor, inches away from a sting. I forgot if I flushed, and I forgot if this really happened to me.
I went to a rave in the desert. It was the first time drinking after the extraction of my wisdom tooth; two more suckers to go. Stella went well with the mediocre house music. Above: Sean and his upper body, and cousin Quisa.
Friends can get tuckered out with the right motivation. And then there's hard drugs to keep everyone else alive and pacing.
After months I've found the black and white setting on my camera. Very film noir, eh?!
This stump is the remnant of our biggest tree in the backyard. You can find much parallelism and inspiration to life from simple things in your house.

I've been listening to a lot of new music and rekindling my spirit with some fan favorites. My top five albums/bands of now are as follow:

1 Ghostland Observatory
2 Broken Social Scene - You Forget It In People
3 The Kooks
4 The Black Lips
5 Death From Above 1979

My top five black jokes:

Oh, I couldnt online. Jk

Sweat

2008-06-30T00:16:00.001-07:00

We caught Marylin's bathrobe and beard party. Again beard envy was present. Lalo's bathrobe reads: Celine Dion - A New Day.

Music Under the Stars. You never watch the band. Its just drinking, talking shit, and laying down on blankets.

Sleepercar at Stateline. Every time I have a good time at a show in El Paso, it becomes reminiscent of other cities. But not Sleepercar. This was an El Paso show!

A toddler's shirt I saw at Camino Real. I wish they had my size.

My Aunt, Gaby. She married Tom on Friday. It was a great ceremony and reception. The complimentary free light beer was awesome. My little cousin, Allen. What a cutie pie.

Fuckeye at Club 101. The show was weird in organization and lineup. But locals Buckeye and By Tomorrow had great sets. For Buckeye, it was a DIY show in an oversized venue; acoustic, no mics, yeah!

Abe Vigoda. Very happy campers in an uncertain world.

No Age. The biggest fucking thing these days, I hear. I hope they don't come out with lunch boxes.

All the out-of-town bands were great, save for Infinite Body. You know those shitty out-of-town bands that happen to get a good slot at a show, and fuck over your local favorites. Yeah, that was him. Random noises and flood lights don't sell for me.

Red Bear

2008-06-20T13:15:00.000-07:00

Before last night I didn't know much about Red Bear. I heard he played Q8 a year ago and I saw his album at an indie book store in Salt Lake City. That man wowed me last night. He played a romantic set last night at a house on Stanton. He gave his audience the warmest of introductions and filled every gap of his set with colorful jokes and back stories to his songs. Every appendage of his body was an instrument to be maneuvered, adding layers to his music like new nails benefit a rusting house. his voice reminded me of Jeff Ott from Fifteen, a better Jeff Ott. His spirit reminded me of Freddy Mercury; yes, I made a Queen comparison. His mosaic of feelings and life experiences tantamount to a boost of energies and a rekindling of hearts. Lalo got his newest album with the bartering of two 40 ounces. His CD is a triumph of DIY, the biggest gem and yet you can hold it in your hand. Patrick is his name and he made our night.

SXSW 2008 (a story for Verve never published)

2008-06-18T22:25:00.001-07:00

Arriving to Austin, early Thursday, Sarah, Jess, Rob, and I drove immediately to the Red Bull party on Caesar Chavez. In the parking lot we took hurried swigs and drinks of imported whiskey from El Paso. A salud to our safe arrival, and, “it’s SXSW, let’s drink!” Once inside, we found our brother caravan of friends and began to exploit the unforeseen open bar. No one was carding. Yes! Many Lonestars and exotic-looking drinks consumed, in a few minutes, and everyone was looking photogenic. The persistent physical exchange of friendship and debauchery; rubbing each others hair and faces, like we were checking for lice and cavities.

I managed to reach the stage and catch photographic shots of The Octopus Project, a local favorite. I saw a woman with a violin one shot; there was the typical guy with a guitar on another. Nevertheless, my 3am waltzing wasn’t so disconcerting, the open bar wasn’t leaving. More Lonestar and the cute nameless orange drinks. I remember seeing The Lemurs close the first night of the RB party. Good tunes to send your poisoned belly home for the night. Open bars will be the death of me! Arriving at our friend Michelle’s apartment, our temporary home, Maury made out with me; he did all the tongue work. Maury is Michelle’s ADD-symptom pug. My first time having my nostrils licked, thoroughly. I slept next to a cat litter box. Good thing I have short hair.

We woke up a few hours later. There was no time to shower this year at SXSW, no time to sleep. I splashed some water on my face and applied my favorite body spray: Victoria’s Secret Love Spell. Try it out, guys. I say it’s unisex. The only showering done was from the sweat exiting my pores at shows; being in the crowds is participating in a human Tetris experience.

Our group headed downtown where alcohol and humans and music converge. I decided not to buy a wristband this year. Day shows are more fun, have a better line-up than their night counterparts, and are free. We found the line to the Parish entrance. Vampire Weekend is playing at 4pm. The most popular band on-line and on the Barnes and Noble magazine rack playing a free show fucking happens at SXSW. Prior to seeing Vampire, we heard the charming tellings and sounds of Jens Lekman and Bon Iver. Four finally arrived and I saw my favorite band of right now. I got to hear my favorite songs, including A-Punk and Campus. Singing along to their songs about love and friendship and all the things that make a great Hugh Grant movie made my day.

We met our El Paso comrades on 6^th street. This caravan began drinking long before us and started a marking system to commemorate each Lonestar consumed inside their warm car. My friend, Charles, had seventeen marks to his name at the end of the day. God bless him. However, with my group, our constant recovery, and our sporadic drinking, marks could not be proffered. We chatted about the bands we saw and departed again. This being my third SXSW, the shock of so much activity and foreign beauties never ceases to amaze. This year I decided not to give myself a schedule to adhere to and not to make any eye contact with any girls. SXSW makes itself into a small town filled with music lovers and their demigods. Not everyone knows each others name but one can spark a conversation with a stranger and share a bands colorful performance. There is no mayor and no sheriff. But they have more than one town drunk.

On our visit we got to see El Paso’s mark on Austin. My friends and I call the move from El Paso to Austin a great migration. An El Pasoan will always meet an old friend in Austin whose roots derive from the border. We saw many friends who moved to the capital to start a new chapter in the livers. Of course, the mention of Chicos Tacos always surfaces. We also caught a glimpse of some Exist 1981 stickers and wheat pastes. How reminiscent of home. Though six hundred miles away, El Paso is always close to you here.

The night arrived and so did the prospect of scoring. To make it short, nothing became available to us tourists; and we weren’t about to pay skyrocket prices for something not entirely necessary. Again we made it out to the Red Bull party. We caught Die! Die! Die! and Brazilian Girls. A note on Brazilian Girls. They rekindled my love for sexy foreign accents.

The one sighting of sex for the trip goes as follows. Rob had to use the bathroom at the RB party. However, the line reached titanic proportions and an ultimatum needed to be thought. He went behind the bathroom where he caught a man receiving a certain service from a girl. Rob asked if they minded. By the time Rob zipped up an audience had amassed in the back. Sadly, the girl could not scream in embarrassment.

Friday was a monumental day for me. First off, I wore my sports coat the entire day downtown. Tall foreigners were wearing their nice leather boots and fine tailored coats under the hot despondent weather. Why not me with my five dollar Goodwill garb?! Second and last, I saw Hot Water Music’s reunion show, a free show. With a furtive wet back, I caught one of my favorite bands. I don’t need to give them an introduction. If you’re a patron of punk rock, you will have one or two of their albums or their entire discography. The crowd went berserk for them. Bearded fellows shared their shoulders and sweat as they sang along to anthems of what was and what never will be.

Saturday, the last day of the music festival—Sunday being a ghost town, completely vacant of bands and crowds—was my busiest day. Waking at noon with only a few hours of sleep to our name, we headed to Stubbs to catch Digitalism and Chromeo. I decided to wear my blue short shorts an account of the weather, and cheap laughs. We arrived in time to catch Digitalism’s set. I’ve learned it’s hard to get motivated and ecstatic over a DJ in the hot sun, so Digitalism didn’t meet my expectations. However, Chromeo was something different. The Jew-Arab duo rocked my world and baptized me to a lifelong fan. Every song they played caused a lightening storm inside my belly. Download their album Fancy Footwork immediately. You will sing-along, you will dance, you will smile. After the show we caught some Thai food and then got in the car and drove to Waterloo Park to catch Mess With Texas, a free one-day festival worth the drive alone. We caught the last bands playing. I saw the beginning set of No Age. I saw some of Black Mountain. A footnote on Black Mountain. If you wear Black Sabbath t-shirts, Black Mt. is for you. Long hair rock n’ roll with a woman vocalist twist. I saw Lucero, another favorite of mine. A testament that Country music can be punk rock. They played El Paso four years ago with Against Me! at the old E9. Remember that show? Closing off the festival was everyone’s favorite, NOFX. Fat Mike decided that they should play the entire album, Punk in Drublic. I didn’t catch the El Paso show but Smelly, the drummer, had sirens installed to the PA to alert Fat Mike when he ran his mouth. The band made fun of every punk rocker that stage dived or looked unattractive.

After leaving Waterloo Park, we lollygagged until Rob went to get his first tattoo on Congress St. Sarah and Jess went to the RB party. I stayed with Rob until 2am when his tattoo was finished. It came out beautifully. The both of us exhausted, we went to the RB party to pick up the apartment keys and call it an early night. But the South By gods thought otherwise. Once inside the Red Bull compound, I found out that Crystal Castles were playing in a few minutes. Completely dumbfounded and exhilarated, I headed for the front stage. When the duo came out, the floor shook. Everyone began to dance. Crystal Castles were an inspiration; a bright mood swing for rock n’ roll. After they left the stage, we caught our breath and had some drinks from the bountiful open bar. Thanks, Red Bull and Arto. The last firework to my night was DJ Z-Trip. While waiting for him to come on stage, a stocky man next to me began to urinate in public thinking the absent stage lights would keep his activities stealth. Everyone in his surroundings shortly became of aware of his urinary agenda. The liquid sprinkled everywhere, including my bare shins; remember the shorts! My anger subsided as I remembered Z-Trip was soon to come on stage. The stocky fellow would later be found at the entrance incapacitated on the floor, dry heaving and probably wet his pants. To paraphrase, I’m DJ Z-Trip and I’m about to close this bitch. I hate to say it, but he outdid his El Paso performance. I can’t explain his performance. If you caught him at Club 101, raise it to the tenth power.

The Red Bull party closed its doors at 5am. After gathering the troops we returned to the apartment. We began to finish the last remnants of our whiskey with some leftover Coca Cola. I called it a day at 8am when I went outside to catch a glimpse of the soy milk sky. It was an ambiguous feeling seeing the daylight. I put my feelings of the moment on the backburner and headed to bed. We woke up hours later and caught some last minute shopping, lunch at Magnolias—a must for anyone visiting Austin—and refueled the car. We gave our good-byes to Michelle, our hostess, and were homeward bound. With tired eyes and exhausted feet, we took 290 West and headed to the familiar I-10.

On a shitty disposable, Vampire Weekend.
Charles, Rob, and myself at the Red Bull party.
Hot Water Music!
Rob and the girls.
Chromeo

Jihad

2008-06-16T19:11:00.000-07:00

The Farm. It'll probably never catch up to El Paso, but bicycles rule the "indie scene" in Las Cruces. A miniature representation of Austin or Denver. To ride your bicycle to a show, wow!

So, Emo still sucks. I thought the genre was driven back to its home in the caves of Shittown. A quick game. Name the three bands homaged on the wall.

The Lucitania at Zeppelins. I'm not a fan of Zeppelins. The Lucy played a great show though, so did Buckeye and The Royalty, and that Pearl Jam cover band.

Charles R. Berry. He turned 21 at midnight at Zeppelins. To his left is Val, to his right, some Eastern European guy. Those Euros sure like to wear Puma footwear.

I found the flyer to the first show I ever played. Our band name is misspelled on the flyer. Shopping Cart With One Bad Wheel or SCWOBW. We were around for, like, a year and played only 7 or 8 shows. The original and intended lineup goes as follows: Lalo on guitar/vocals, Daniel on bass, and myself on drums. We wrote songs about gay super heroes and Anna Nicole Smith before she died. Think a bad Screeching Weasel sounding band. And that statement may be an oxymoron.

I'm not going to lie. Its been a pretty stagnant summer. But I'm sure it will pick up when I get that cocaine wholesale deal (jk). I searched Hate The Members online and found their old Purevolume and this awful promo picture. Lalo and I went to a lot of their shows when we were in high school. Guess which Members member made out with me.

I recently got into VBS. Its arguably the best thing online, next to 15 second porn clips. I love their news documentaries and Music World. I envy the correspondents.

A poem i wrote the other day.

Untitled

That little birdy Whose small heart I want to devour. Of all The holes you had To creep. Did she already smell Of the earth. She will never rest. Nightmares now come with Toothpick talons.

i'll find merriment

2008-05-31T01:08:00.000-07:00

Princesa. My girl. If we dated I know I would get dumped quick; probably over the phone.Instruments. Some people play them. I've been playing this set since eighth grade. I can say I'm mediocre now.

The "Hawk-Gun." My best tattoo. The longest and most painful. I was listening to the artists friends retell their drug convictions and domestic life. Don't make meth at your home, kids. Rent out a room at the Warren Inn like an adult.

My wall of accomplishment. Or my mom being too generous with her framing.

1993. That one year it snowed in El Paso. Mom decorates plates when it snows.

My journal. I started it in Fall 2005 and Its still alive. I'm on number 24, or 25. Poems, short stories, electric confessions, and colorful caricatures of El Paso life.

A clue to how deep my dementia runs. This is my weapon of choice when the zombie apocalpse arrives.

This contraption was purchased at a Mexican circus. Inside is the negative to a picture of my Mom and I enjoying the circus. The circus was always a fun thing in Juarez when I was little. Funny how life is centered around different arenas.

A poem I wrote last week.

Scattered Thoughts of the Flesh Mosiac*

I'm at a starting line And I should stop while I'm ahead. Mirrors are for beauty not for doing yourself in. If there was a God I would hide inside his cloak. Away from bad jokes And those tired morning chairs. Clocks are for living Not for telling time.

*Don't do drugs!

A Beginning to Summer

2008-05-27T17:49:00.001-07:00

I hope this summer is a good one. i want to visit many places. austin and new york for starters. i probably wont make any of them because no one wants to hire me, and plane tickets and gasoline is expensive. i will, probably, join Buckeye and By Tomorrow in August for a long tour that will end in the east coast! i also want to buy a Super Soaker. hopefully that purchase will come to fruition.

Been listening to Bon Iver. first heard the trio at SXSW. just fell for them. DFA1979 has also
been a favorite. this photo beneath is of their performance on Conan*, Max Weinberg does a cameo on drums. *this is the most hidden video on the internet. ive seen it once and have searched for this white whale ever since.

new work from Jonathan Viner, my favorite artist. truly haunting. the kind of sublime you find under a stack of ebony books.
Newcastle and Stella. since i turned 21 ive been drinking from a silver cup, albeit i still have my loyalties to Lonestar and Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Im currently finishing up on Goodbye, Columbus by Philip Roth, my favorite author, and his first novel. he is my inspiration and a demigod.
three poems i wrote early in the morning when no other remedy could suffice:

Some Protest Will Make Me Buoyant.

Give them heavy / Pens and let them / Talks their heads-- / Give them the moon for a /

Canvas / And a sea full of pigment. / Take me aside / And let them put me with / Their tired

and strung / Give them rock, powder, and words. / Let them take their / Faces, much deserved, I'm / Sure.

Untitled

Lost ourselves in black sheets / We need bigger flashlights.

Lost ourselves in a field of tea / We need bigger straws.

Lost ourselves in a wind of malady / We need more doctor visits.

Take a number / God will call you, soon

But its so conventional / These days to walk / without a siren above / your head. God, damn.

God Will Find Me One Day

Im putting all my / thoughts today in / a hand basket. / No, a totebag. / And im walking to /

the nearest bridge. / one last goodbye / and off they / descend to the bottom. / think a message

in a / bottle, but without the plea for help.

'CHELLA 2008

2008-04-29T11:10:00.001-07:00

tent making seminar in my backyard, with Lalo

the first major stop.

biggest disappointment since Spiderman 3. you can't put Venom, Gwen Stacy, Sandman, and the

symbiotic suit all in one movie and come out with a coherent story.

i went to The Thing on the drive back too. so two visits. it was the second time that i actually

saw The Thing. they put it in the most ackward spot.

Bed Rock

second major stop.

the first Del Taco in our path and we fucking took it.

Arizona weather is ghastly. my balls dehydrated. it was like shrink wrapping two key limes.

my co-pilot, Alex, who did none of the driving. it was 10.5 hours there, and 11 hours back. no

breaks. just tinkling, gas, and The Thing.

OMG! This was the coolest dinner in a long time.

Alex with the nicer sleeping bag. i got the sniffles soon enough.

DAB in Indio. oy!

The Bird and the Bee. for fans of polka-dots, "fuck" and "dick slaps." Uffie. ft. DJ Medhi. her entourage included three black chaps with Lego belt buckles. hmm. Uffie is going to be my mistress when i grow up. her set was some hot shit. goddamn, what a sexy fuckin' lady!

Kavinsky. i hate to say it but that Frenchman served El Paso bottom shelf liquor compared to

his Coachella performance. he still looked smug by the way. the whole Ed Banger family was in

attendance.

Minus the Bear. stagnant performance. but still keeping true to their early 00's indie rock motif.

Alex and I both agreed these kids were on PCP, LSD, or some other acronym. seconds later they

took out a lot of weed brownies from their bag. i asked to buy one but NO DICE. i hope those

little shits get grounded.

Cold War Men. They were an American scene! a poetic triumph. they played a new song titled, Mexican dogs which was very nice.

Pete, Scooter, Raul, and Russell. yes, they are made up names.

how much do you think these savory Camel's cost at Coachella?

Erol Alkan. Erol gave my brother a golden cigarette after his set. sadly, i wasnt present to take

a picture. i became an Asian tourist during this trip. pictures of everything.

Hot Chip. oh, shit!

Goddamn, nigga.

for fifty minutes i was British. luv them.

Junkie XL, with b-star, Steve Aoki.

Junkie XL is for fans of DJs who wear leather jackets in 100+ weather and do air guitar

during a guitar sample in their set. Aoki is for fans of tacky ensembles worn by a tall asian,

who probably had an overbearing mother in a Californian suburb. but dont quote me.

M.I.A.

my future wife.

i love her.

it was neon heaven on stage when she came on.

the show almost got shut down. too many suitors in the crowd like myself.

but none of them have my witty lovable charm.

fuck yeah!

a sublime installation.

E.T.'s home.

more crazy fucking art.

El Paso, shut up.

its cheaper to get an abortion than to fill up a hybrid in California!

Annuals. check them out.

we then headed next door to check out Dimitri from Paris. but instead we found ourselves in a

Perry Farrell hell-hole. all white attire and a diamond studded tie didnt float my boat of

interest. so then we saw I'm From Barcelona. they really like balloons, and confetti.

DeadMau5

Dimitri From Paris.

Gogol Bordello.

he came out with a bottle of wine and just soaked himself. it was great.

clouds covered the unforgiving sun for most of the show.

fucking awesome time. everyone was dancing. my camera died after this pic.

next, Alex and I embarked on, like, five hours of fuckin' dancing, all in the same stage, back 2 back

Danny Tenaglia - pretty cool

Modeselcktor - three guys from Berlin. the one that looked like Run took out three

bottles of champagne and soaked the crowd.

(i was next to the rail for the duration of the night. front center center)

Simian Mobile Disco - awe. they had a round set up. they moved in a circular motion operating

their many gadgets and lights.

Chromeo - i got my fancy footwork. Michael Jackson passed down the torch to these two sons

of FUCK YEAH!

JUSTICE. THE LAST SET WE SAW. THE BEST MOMENT OF THE TRIP.

THEY REWROTE THE BIBLE FOR ME

IT WAS UNSPEAKABLE, BUT ILL TRY :

"And so it began with Genesis. the endless crowd was a collective of rogue waves bashing

against one another. i was holding on to the rail securing my spot in front. my own private

anchor if you will. oh god, i cant begin to exlpain what a sublime experience it was for me.

all the colors of the rainbow exited my pores. everyone was dancing, everyone was in pain.

the power and electricity ran through everyones body. all our mouths were dry from the

tight squeeze. hair and garb wet like you just came out the pool after a friend through

you in, albeit you said, hey, i have money, and my cell pho--!

Justice was the best thing in Coachella for me."

FIN, motherfuckas