BACK IN THE RED

anyway, an anecdote that may or may not have occured in this reality.

I was in new south wales for a week or so, but by the time I got back, it was like an entire epoch had come and gone.

there are whole chunks of ambient culture I do not recognise.

Yesterday, for instance, a guy offered me a hit of this funky new designer psychomimetic called 'alter'. I didn't have time to run it through the NMR, the marquis gave an innocuous enough result and it seemed optically pure.

No fucker told me that the drug induces a temporary bout of multiple personality disorder.

So I spent ninety minutes completely naked in the cafe/club area of northbridge with my brain trapped in the death grip of Einarr, a syphilis-maddened norse tribal lawman from a circa-1450 scandenevian ghetto.

No, let's get specific here. I spent ninety minutes dispensing ancient wisdom and savage law up and down the street, the alter only wearing off after I brutally beat a ten year old boy. He had been pissing in his little sister's pram while mommy was off down the alleyway buying a touch of discreet oral sex from an out-of-work voice actor named Giles.

These unemployed voice actors gone bad are the worst. When they're not whoring on streetcorners, or trying to look menacing as they loiter around the drama sections of second-hand bookstores, they form gangs that relentlessly try to attach themselves to stylish homosexuals and break all the noise laws by bitching about pretty girls and people with talent.

The bastards.

My MPD faltered just as I was about to dispense viking justice to Gile's tender bits. I settled for branding him and the woman, kicking the ten year old into passing traffic and putting the little girl up for adoption as my only daughter.

You have no idea how much I hate it here.

crank ramble

heart of gold, white line fever
rack it up then crack your back
business cards and fifties either
track your arms, the skin popped black

late night highways and the crystal palace
glass onion and the iron dart
winter dawn and the red wine chalice
handful of valium for the end of the start.

meth benders are good for the soul.

lady Gonzo, wherforeart thou lady gonzo?

she had eyes the colour of 6AM streetlamps in winter
and hand-rolled her cigarettes
shared my love for cheap red wine
and chinese amphetamine

i met her in a bar in Santiago
she was drinking gin and lemon
with a mescal chaser -
we talked of huxley and stevie wonder

we stepped outside to share a cigarette
and briefly - a kiss,
warm and dry like the gin
and never quite enough, like the mescal

then she was gone
and only once I hailed a taxi
to take me back to my hotel
did I realise

that fucking bitch had stolen my lighter!

the scratching in the walls

spinnegeist, call me-
click clack, paperback
paperbark? watch them scurry in the dark
peel back the shadows and the skin
i wonder what they're hiding in?
an ever present itch to scratch
the cobwebs in the corner
gutters over run with legs
a tangled joke of order

look left, look right
see them flashing in the night
see the running, clutching claws
that grab and tear and bind
see the spider on the moors
that spin darkness in my mind

smoking is onf those things you do when you hate yourself

like skateboarding, or joining the army.



I like to think of my life as a grand superhighway, suspended in space, coursing through reality.

And I need the extra tar to fill in the potholes and bumps every one of you shitheels puts in my way.

north korea will never nuke the US, quit bitching

Even if they managed to get a couple of missiles off, odds are they would be intercepted by the united state's ridiculous anti-missile budget

like, obama would stand on the giant pile of money they invested in missile defence

and swat nukes out of the sky with a club made of $100 bills.

and about fifteen seconds later korea would be converted to a fine puddle of radiactive glass and ash while every member of the united state's armed forces masturbated to the sight of a midnight sunrise over the ocean and the smell of the world's biggest Korean barbecue restaurant opening on the trans-asian shelf.

if Kim Jong Il actually gave the order to FIRE ZE MISSILES, one of his top generals would be like "What the fuck? The US is going to annihilate us. I enjoy beating up faggots and yoga teachers and molesting my kids WAYYYY too much to let this troll baby get us all killed' and fucking bust a cap in his ass.

and that's why nuclear profileration works. MAD, motherfuckers.

LOOKING FOR HELP ON A NEW MUSIC PROJECT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B0IwsK5MDsM

I'm trying to put together a new project, combining elements of psytrance, industrial, dubstep and hip hop for a really neo-urban cybergrime vibe.

I'm looking for anyone who's had experience writing these genres to help me out - I'm not a terribly competent producer, much better DJ. I have Ableton 7, Reason, and a handful of other bits and bobs. You can hear some of my work on my myspace.

Also, I'll be needing a decent MC.