i'm on the coffee again. i'm grumpy cranky. on the coffee again. felt great at the initial sips. now i'm cranks mcyanks. thought about going bowling but realized i'd be going to the old frank place. bad joke. but close enough. similar. my dreams my dreams. you were there, again, as usual. as usual i love you. i woke up as usual i love you. in the dream i told my friend about the other girl i love. my somewhat secret crush. the one i've thought about for years. who is good for me? i thought you were the good for me. i know i was for you. grumpy grumpy put on my headphones and forget everyone. my brother is talking about a servicio. pillaging up the ramparts and cutting the straps. i climbed a nearly 90degree angled wall with just my fingers. i was scared for only a brief moment. as soon as i realized i needn't look down and to push push pull i could do it. and i did. did i impress you? were you impressed with me then? why am i always trying to prove myself to you? but i am. i am always trying to to prove to you i can do. do you believe yet? do you want me back yet? this moment. i don't care who sees me crying at the airport. i hope they are at the very least uncomfortable if not put off. whatever. back to my dream. i made it all the way up using just my fingers in the small dents in the ever-slanting road wall. at the top was metallica and your mom. there was something having to do with camp. your black bra strap showing. i woke myself up at one point and wrote the following:
exploring is fruitful what kind of fruit? not true
and every ground is evergantic i want mine first will it last? should you die for being witness she's teaching classes with Holly by her side i wish she would see me, either one, i wish i could just say hi.
she looks good and busy authoritative in control overwhelmed but positively so learning from and how to grow
i can see see your broken black bra strap i want to tuck it in but you look cute. i can see you HAPPY as a teacher can you see yourself as anything but sad?
then i went back to sleep. i looked at this when i ultimately woke up for real and was very confused. i wrote that in my sleep. the coffee's hype is wearing thin thinner translucent. have you read any of this? i don't think you care, so whatever. these stream from gray matter only to finger dance clutching. something about that one song, i can't do it for too long. i want to know where it came from--the ten minute blubble blople. send me right to the chocolate-covered raisins. take me with you in 3d symphonic taste. your cosby is here to stay. 3d is to cosby as cosby is to 3d. new jeans new jeans smell like rendezvous. give me quick time harsh. yes no no no no no yes no yes no no no yes no yes yes no no yes no no no a new binary cold blow your madeline kahn almost made a funny not funny even for me. gotta be playing the importance.
Klessa is the latest great musical endeavor headed up by Matt Gordon (L'hiver, Laser Awesome, Red Sled Choir) coming out of New Paltz, NY. If there is anything New Paltz, NY should be known for is their incredible DIY music community. For nearly three years, Matt Gordon and fellow L'hiver/Laser Awesome alumnus (plus engineer for the debut Klessa album, "Aloha Demons" and currently touring in the band) Matt Ross, lived at the notorious 266 house in New Paltz, aka, The Rug Room. The Rug Room was host to almost weekly performances and other musical community gatherings featuring artists local, regional and even national (from previously mentioned groups to Kimya Dawson). Together with Cheryl (also of L'hiver), Kate Larson and Simon Thrasher (of Holy Haunted Head), Klessa emit shear beauty. Here are some shots from the recent show we played together at Savant Project in the Mission Hill section of Boston, November 17th, 2009.
I woke up 'round 4-4:30am to go to the bathroom and noticed this weird, intense pain emanating from my mustache region. At first I thought it was a zit or an ingrown hair but the pain was way too intense and my upper-lip was beginning to swell...
That happened two weeks ago almost to the day. Actually, it happened literally--literally--24hrs shy of a perfect two week phrase; and this lovely early morn is A prime.
Before going to sleep tonight, whilst weaving waxy wire through my grill, I felt what reasonably could have been two new pimpletons growing--one in the realm of my stache and one just below my flava-sava (pronounced: flay-vuh say-vuh). Again, thinking nothing of these minor bumps in the road of my face than previously stated assertions and further validation why my beard will soon reappear, I went to sleep...
...only to wake-up at 4:30am to go to the bathroom with intense pain emanating from my mustache region and just below-and-right and my fucking flava-sava--ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!? Did we not just go through this two weeks ago? Was I not shafted from the health-center at my work place because I'm not a student and told to walk to the ER 3/4-of-a-mile-away? Did I not already look like Fat Lip, get two intense shots--one in each arm--have my friend Olganize [sic] a ride home for me because I was so knocked-out from the shots that I could barely say my name without falling asleep (and I slept in my former supervisor's old office for an hour before getting the ride), have to take a day-off because the medications seriously drained the fuck out me, and was forced to hold-off on calling this cute girl I had met a few days before because of said aesthetic wonders? Holy crap! I can't fall back asleep, I'm freaking out; I can't believe I'm still sitting on my bed--WAIT!
--have I even mentioned that it's been assumed that the initial ailment was a spider bite? Did I mention that I also happen to be (more than) notably terrified of said creature? Not only did this happen once before, but it was two fucking weeks ago and now I have TWO of these fuckers. Shit man, do I need a new mattress? Blanket? Pillows? What do I do?
And this time, it didn't happened when I was sleeping. But when did it happen? Are these not spider bites? What are they? The pain is exactly the same, my mustache-lip is beginning to swell, I can feel two small bumps. I took two Benadryl. Shit man, I might just head over to the ER and see if'n they can't give me a shot...but I have two shows this week and I need my arms as much as possible--lugging gear, playing...Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Tomorrow (later today, in 12 hours), I have a huge event that I've been planning for weeks. I can't miss that. Should I just go back to sleep and go to the doctor when I wake-up? Crap. I'm losing steam. Benadryl is finally kicking in. Think I'll just go back to sleep, see what my face looks like in a few hours (though I can feel my top lip gaining real-estate, slowly spilling over its bottom-bunk mate, my lower lip).
I can't concentrate. I'm all over. Gotta pee. I can't stop my legs. I'm listening to King Crimson. Red is a great album. "One More Red Nightmare" is the song I sung to me simultaneously slinging syllabic slang and slander sullies sound suckers' sophomoric signs and short comings. Fear not, Grater, the angle of acrobratz brazenly barks catatonic candor down dark equator farts. Gasping henceforth, joining jeered kaleidoscopes lay multitude-Mank near Ophelia's polyrhythmic-post-quixotic rarities. Silly timbre underscores voracious Wonkalito Xavier's young zealots.