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Colin Stetson, New History Warfare Volume Two: Judges
Jazz arpeggiator that is good enough to have a hat named for him.

Anatomy Of Habit, s/t
These songs remind me of beermosas.

 Shabazz Palaces, Black Up
I liked it even better when they were named after bugs.

Das Racist, Relax
I think I laugh at a new place every time, but it might just be the same place.

Liturgy, Aesthethica
Hipster black metal trolls, like in the Internet sense.

Raphael Saadiq, Stone Rollin' 
Because everyone wants to live when there is such a thing as Soul music.

Bon Iver, Bon Iver, Bon Iver 
Big ups to Bon Iver for rekindling my love of Phil Collins.

I Just Watched "Big" and I Have Some Issues with It

1. From Mrs. Baskin's perspective, this is a movie about child molestation.
2. If I was a grown woman and a guy took me back to his loft to show me his trampoline and blow-up Godzilla, I would get the fuck out.
3. Having your boss catch you playing Lazer Tag in a toy store gets you fired, not promoted.
4. From Mrs. Patterson's perspective, this is a movie about a toy executive who invites young boys into his office, and probably molests them.
5. At some point, Susan realizes she's been sleeping with a 13-year-old. Shouldn't she, like, vomit?
6. The part where Susan says, "You won't even remember me." and Josh says, "Oh, yes I will." is supposed to be touching, but actually its creepy.

Top 9 Dreams, 2011

1. I have a deck of cards, but it is not the right type.
2. Those black dots are hurting Tom Hanks.
3. I didn't know that what I made was meth, so how could I have known I was giving meth out to children?
4. Camping in a blank space.
5. I think maybe it had something to do with sledding?
6. I have the worst class I could possibly imagine, but I am teaching them at the beach.
7. Driving on a foggy road on a cliff, listening to Santana.
8. Double wide airplane, almost missing the connecting flight, second plane crashes, buying candy at the duty-free shop, the airport parking lot is deserted.
9. Lawn ornament turns into Jesus, I say, "Jee-SUS!," Jesus says, "Whassup?!" (reissue)

Dick Army

I just read the entirety of this blog, and cannot believe that none  of it existed before my move to California . I cannot fathom life before ifoundthistape, but fathoming life before life before the Golden State is quite, quite easy. Are all the parts of me parts of me? HMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

In these proclamitory moments, I choose an inaudible tone of voice. Not gravel and screaming, but jumbled, for, as it turns out, I'm a writer who is scared of what he will write.

Maybe I'll delete this. Burzum is Neu-ian.

Dick Army

DickarmydIckarmydiCkarmydicKarmydickArmydickaRmydickarMydickarmYDIckarmydICkarmydiCKarmydicKArmydickARmydickaRMydickarMYdickarmYDIckarmyDICkarmydICKarmydiCKArmydicKARmydickARMydickaRMYdickarMYDIckarmYDICKarmyDICKarmydICKArmydiCKARmydicKARMydickARMYdickARMYDickaRMYDIckarMYDICkarmYDICKArmyDICKARmydICKARMydiCKARMydicKARMYDiCARMYDiCARMYDiCARMYDiCARMYDiCARMYDiCARMYDiCARMYDiCARMY!

Dick Army

We
are a spilled drink,
seeping towards the edge
of the table,
waiting to be
sopped up,
or to tumble, free,
over the side.

We--
on the other hand--
are
a spilled drink
seeping
towards
 the edge
of the
table waiting
to be sopped
up to tumble
free
over
the side.

Dick Army

14 and then the getaway. Let loose. Forget the yellow fever fever, its time to yell "drop this. drop this on a hot footed left foot and leave it .l e a v e it for the dogs to eat. but the dogs can't even et cheese? constipation you say?"

Inside the green zone, Newt Gingrich's name's being tossed about, as in "waht do you want for Christmas?" "I don't know, just not a Newt Gingrich. I'm so sick of Newt Gingriches."

If I think I'm going crazy, then it means I'm really not, right?

I keep
hearing voices
in the trees: telephone
"hello"s "keep to the
right!"s
and
"Would
you
want to
raise a
child in
a world
where
Chipotle
exists?"

Well then

Once when I was littler, there was a rest stop. Inside, there was a bathroom made of metal, but it still smelled like acrid urine, like piss had been bleached into the small, evicerous holes of stainless steel. There are some things that permeate anything. There are some things that will not leave. Just now, another friend (acquaintance, classmate, well-wisher, whatever) died. Just now, a hole emerged in place where I had not known there was matter.





In the spaces between these letters, I've put on music full of melancholy; I've found another beer; I've wondered where there sweetness that lingers on my fingers came from; I watched my dog find a more comfortable place.

And now as the trumpet proclaims, as the man sings, as I cannot finish a, ok, no. Now, as I realize it will not end, I realize it will not end. That from this point forward, it will be ubiquitous, a Facebook post, a singing saw, all around in the ether, the fish sauce spilled in the bowl, the stack of mail, the mounting debt... it is here. The accordion key. The signal that sounds in the dark.

The dark.

I went out to see the moon, orange and bulbous, a pumpkin in the sky. All I saw was the midnight blue of west coast twilight.

I miss him. I miss Jim and Kev and Myles and Tim and Sean. Its too soon to accept this truth; but tramps like us, baby, we were born to
die.

Plagiarism

To stroke my narcissism, I was just searching the Internet for this blog when I came upon this yahoo question: Can your write me a haiku about quantum physics? The reply? The one chosen as best answer? It is remarkably similar to this blog post. And by similar, I mean plagiarized. And yes, I did just link to my own blog on my own blog. But as if stealing my brilliance wasn't enough, the nameless person who stole my poem followed it up with, "its not that good...sorry."

 

In my mind, this unnamed plagiarizer had three options when s/he came across this request for quantum physics haiku:

1. Make up a haiku
2. Find a good haiku on the Internet and pretend like you wrote it
3. Nothing.

Here's my question for Yahoo! brand Questions: Why would someone steal a haiku s/he thinks is bad and claim it as his/her own?

Maybe someone can copy and paste an answer for me.

One more for the road

Blah blah blah something that barely makes sense, even to me blah blah blah

This counts.

Going for the record

I've not blogged like this since 2008, the Year of the Blog. Its time to get this blog roll a rolling! Time to blog up to the blogosphere! Love, lift us up where we b-log! This is my blog cabin! Let's pull some peat moss from this blog to keep us warm all winter. Bloglight Savings Time. The morning blog, lifting from the sea.

We b-log to the light
We b-log to the thunder
We b-log to the sound of the words
We've both blog-rolled under

Whatever we deny or embrace
For worse or for better
We b-log, we b-log
We b-log together!

The blog run! Blogster! Blogman! Blog-gone it! You'll be punished with a severe blogging! Blog it up! What I'm saying is, "Self, you need to set a personal blog best and make blog thousand blogleven the new Year of the Blog Part II: Electric Blogaloo."

Soon my tooth will have a crown

i will have to wait until tttomorrow to say what needs to be said: There are lives at stake, you know. Rather than yell out names, say "This Christine person, she thinks God talks to her." Rather than that

I








will







remain















silent.





It is my right.

The collective unconscious

I am over-caffeinated. Tired from stimulants. A cup of coffee that tasted like salt. Vague anxiety. . Lazy indifference. I have a bag of paper I am leaving alone, a tomorrow I'm not sure what to do with.

In other news, there's a lot of red in this game, the walls are bare down here, and I'm not sure how this laundry will ever be put away.

Patriotic learned behavior

History is the study of a name someone made up.

Its all a mash so how do you make it come out in any coherent way?

How do you separate the standing in front of your grammar school in the shade of the gym, waiting for the teachers to open the doors, the safety patrol (younger than you) snapping like pitbulls when you step out of the single file line to whack another student with your oversized pencil case from the singer pleading "Fair thee well" and the heart and the hands strumming, the anger in his pleasantries, invented on a train? How do you do it when, in fact, you are the teacher savoring the last few minutes of morning quiet and you are the student hitting another and you are the one being hit. You are the safety patrol pitbull and you've never even seen a pitbull and you are the singer strumming for forty years, outcast for choosing to plug in?

Maybe I am not a professional basketball player, but I am happy with this ending.

I am happy with this ending: Mike Colado, sunken living room sleep over, truth or dare and magic mushroom pizza, sixth grade, the gods must be crazy and goonies, too much soda. The pool out back, his father's mustache like the shag carpet we slept on. The unbreakable coffee mug we hit with a hammer. I am happy with this ending.

His house, though, on a hill: I cannot seem to place it on the map in my mind.

This just happened, though it could also be a lyric from a Bob Dylan song

Mona Lisa was drunk in the park on a Wednesday, and when I walked by she asked me to dance. As she twirled me, she asked for my name, but she mistook what I said for "Truth."

Local Haiku

In the room's still heat

old women discuss a fu-

ture that is not theirs.

Martin marched forward forwardly as the hall collapsed, leaving the throne buried beneath a pile of pillars.

My ankles tell me it is time for a diet.

I'm lost again, here in the world and following, heading in a straight line

The forgotten narrative of the black geek, blowing up model airplanes for his onlooking friends viewing through movie binoculars, buried beneath all the rest of us.

The bike path covered in rattlesnakes, thick and agitated, threatening death. We stop and look, take out our smart phones for a picture. This is how the story goes.

Dear Train, I wrote these lyrics for you.

I bought a rugged rug and placed on the floor she said, like a bandstand outward bound assistant would...typical. The bars on the plaque were a nice touch though. Is teeth plaque spelled the same as award plaque? If so I am very decorated.

Pleasing people is easy if all you do is say that's fine. that's fine mr. ant. i will have some more green bananas if you want me to. What the difference between bananas and bananus? Its the anus, obviously. Obviously, its u.

Lesser than grain is yardwork. Lesser than yard work is the yard itself, a green pasture for fucking nothing to eat. FUCK LAWNS.

In other news, there are three CCR records displayed on the floor, but two of them are the same. It is not the season for gift wrap, and a big blue book is telling me not to eat this.

What I tried to tag this with: its good to be back, dear train, i love train, train is the best band, i wish train were here right now, maybe you should try listening to train, q: how many train cds do you have? a: all of them, it should have read 'tis not the season for gift wrap

i woke myself up to write this, posted it on anna's blog in my sleepstate, and moved it here

I've made a map of/in my dreams, a place I've been many times now: a sullen road on a mountain cliff, a bank of stores on a soft turn down, taffy and popcorn, baseball hats. Down the road, the moss overtakes the brown on the seaside, but look up to the right, where the ascending hill should be, up is blank.

Farther up the road, uphill, is a campsite where an impending sense of doom resides. I feel anxious i/o/n this landscape, and at home.

lyrics for my black metal band about bicycling

the abstraction of sky
the glance behind sunglasses
foot locked, wide laned

they are actively trying to run me over.

race the train
dehydration
no one cares
no one pays attention

the taste of blood.

If you almost shut your eyes, the world becomes a blur (but not really)

When we were young and on the way home from Joliet from family gatherings (in the white cushioned chair, high backed and gold leafed, up on the carpet like a dry riverbed, I had slapped my aunt for eating my Christmas present candy), the moon would follow us. Peering out of the Caravan window, I watch it stay even with us on the highway because, it too, was going where we were, at an even pace.

Since then, though, it has been held in stasis by scientific maturity.

Congrats on Life Haiku

Yelling through your blue
tooth with your car window down
in a parking lot.

Jars of Clay Davis

I just checked my ifoundthitape blog stats and saw that googling "the wire-shhhhhhiiiiiit" led some poor soul to this goddamm blog. I feel so honored. The following is a list of things that hopefully someday someone will search and lead them to this god-forsaken place:

Beastie Boys Bob Dylan sample

mustache + competition

cuuuuuuuttttte pugs

Mr. T iced tea

aabbccddeeffgghhiijjkkllmmnnooppqqrrssttuuvvwwxxyyzz

Cat Massage

luke burbank drunk photo

kelly kapowski fan club

MHC my horsemeat company

toenail collection

gary debusey celebrity apprentice

riders on the storm gutters inc

U2b

humanure

Yesterday, I saw two teenagers jump off the Tower Bridge and other Items

Item! Yesterday, I saw two teenagers jump off the Tower Bridge. One was slightly more prepared than the other, and had brought a wet suit. I had just got on the bridge as I saw their heads go over the side. I pulled my bicycle over to the side at the point where I had last seen them. They were laughing and trying to catch their breath from the cold. I watched until they swam to shore, relieved that I would not have to put off dinner to call an ambulance or a morgue boat. Kids these days.

Item! Frozen na'an from Trader Joe's is delicious. I had decided this even before I had tried it. And then, when I tried it, I continued to believe the previously stated statement.

Item! For the next 10 days, I will be living like a king, assuming kings wake up at 10 am to watch The Price Is Right and then spend the rest of the day trying to find cable television shows on the internet. That is how kings live, correct?

Item! I know this is old news, but it is still hard to believe that Michael Jackson is a dead pop star rather than a living pedophile.

One of those kids throwing stones and calling for revolution will one day be corrupt and fat with power. Also Ben Weasel punched a woman.

History is the story of people becoming what they hate.

Quantum Physics Haiku

in the parallel
mirrors of the barber shop
i see myself as

infinite

Four alarm

The fireman at the fro-yo.
The fireman at the icee stand.

The fireman gettin' an icee with ice cream in it.
The fireman picking toppings for his fro-yo.

Manual shift, five speed.

at some point, I realized that when I had been looking, everything was upside-down. That those pinnacles in the distance behind me were actually troughs, and that this slow, coasting descent was a climb to a peak I have not yet known.

I was fooled because we've climbed so effortlessly, free from a lactic burn in our legs. So let's pick up the pace, let's move so fast that everything stands still.

Naturally

Naturally, I am awaiting the return of the rap superstar. Waiting for Barry Bonds's acquittal (we are ALL Barry Bonds, don't you get it?!?). Waiting for what comes next. Will I ever think he is more than just barely competent? The studies are currently being analyzed by top scientists. A water bottle and a coke bottle: what is next?

In other news: s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's s's, martini glasses are all the rage, this fishy smell indicates something is fishy, and I am still full from dinner and 3 Zombie brownies.

My Children's Album

1. Let Mommy Sleep (She Is Suffering from Depression)

2. Your Mouth Stinks!

4. What's For Breakfast? (No, I'm Asking You. I'm Sick of Making Your Goddamn Breakfast)

5. When Daddy Goes to Work, It Means He Loves You (But Not Mommy)

6. Party in the Bathroom! (Wiping Our Buttholes)

7. Judge Mathis is Kind of Like Big Bird

8. Let's Have a Nap for Lunch!

9. Time For a Beer (Daddy's Home)

10. Spaghetti Looks (and Tastes) Like Brains

11. Bedtime Spanking

Two-Word Record Reviews of Things I Downloaded Today

1. "The King of Limbs" by Radiohead--Finally cohesive.
2. "Bastard" by Tyler, The Creator--Scary asshole.
3. "Sit Down, Man" by Das Racist--LOL (jk)

That place was great.

Remember Catfish Haven? And the origins of "Hey, Donny...Remember what you said about Sean?...That he was a loser?" and the engagement ring in the burger with the Beatles playing and that girl's odd spite towards Shelly and cigs? Remember cigs? And kidnapping pranks and that metal band next door and your impersonation of Anthony Kedis and "It's smooth, it's nice" and living in A-ville and "Ri tried to kiss me" and "Smoking pole" and that time you left practice because you got a message that had Malkmus playing a "In the Mouth a Desert" on it? Remember how we'd write a bunch of songs and then scrap them and write new songs? And your marriage?

These are some of the best times of my life. For serious.

I think, though, that "Warning" was actually made by Arizona. The e-drink you are describing might be Fuze.

Commons

I go where the bridges go: to the fog sunrise of the Presidio, to the open field (christened "crissy") lapped with bayfog smog water.

Eyes. I am eyes.

I am transparent eyes all seeing seaside in the seconds between each crash. There is silence there and it is a lifetime.

Pending Job Application

from Timothy ODonnell to writerapps@pitchfork.com date Thu, Jul 15, 2010 at 12:29 PM subject i will review your albums.

I will be your record reviewer. Here is a little about myself: I have been on television. Would it help if I hated Tim Kinsella? I could make it happen.

All further information that you have requested can be located here on this very popular blog:

ifoundthistape.blogspot.com

We can discuss payment options (you to me) at a later time.

Thank you and good luck.

Tim

Best Music of 2010 Expressed in Mathematic Equations

1. (P/h8)(RZA + bI) = "My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy" by Kanye West

2. (SbSS + iiiii) - Jarboe = "My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to the Sky" by Swans

3. M^B = "Daughters" by Daughters

4. SR/|nSR| = "Shut Up, Dude" by Das Racist

5. dN(dN + (MIA/n)) = "Treats" by Sleigh Bells

6. SbSS + dN = "LeNoise" by Neil Young

Wherein:
B = Boredoms
bI = Bon Iver
dN = digital noise
h8 = I hate myself for it
iiiii = repetitive, industrial minimalism
M = McLusky
MIA = MIA
n = not
P = I am such a pervert
RZA = RZA
SbSS = sad-bastard singer-songwriter
SR = serious rap