“It’s good to have a fresh warm body beside you when you wake up in the morning. It gives you a clean feeling. you get spiritual like… until they start pulling that mushy crap about love et cetera. Why do all these cunts talk about love so much, can you tell me that? A good lay isn’t enough for them apparently… they want your soul too…”
– Henry Miller Tropic of Cancer
So sad to say Jeff Conaway passed away yesterday. Kenickie was always my favorite in grease and I enjoyed Jeff Conaway in Elvira Mistress of the Dark as well. We will all miss him! Or at least I know I will miss him a lot.
here is what is popular right now:
BUFFALO BOOTS (for those not familiar, think of the platform trainers worn b y the Spice Girls or 90’s club kids)
NAILS (the crazier the better)
CURTAINS (the hairstyle, again for those not familiar think 90’s boyband/grunge/mollgoth styles that are parted in the middle)
anyways im sure ive missed a few otheer big ones, yin yangs, corn rows, basketball shorts and the like but for the most part these are things that may or may not stick around for a while… next: my forecasts for 2011-2012!!!!
The fort night was a lovely success!! We had a lot of happy campers enjoying their drinks in the woods lit up by 100 tea lights. I was there for a good five hours. We had some lovely tunes played for us on guitars and a few sing alongs…my favorite was our Iggy Pop sing along. It’s always nice when new comers come and you see how freaking exited they are to be in this FORT in the WOODS partying! I was pleased that every one kept saying it reminded them of Peter Pan and pirates because that exactly what it is.
Here are some photos!
P.S. hope you make it out for the next one!
This should be fun just took of face book to share with yall
HOORAY FOR EVERYTHING
Friday, May 27 · 8:30pm – 11:30pm
222 15th ave (first hill)
Taylor Cheairs, Aaron Kennedy, Tyler EverettShow all (6)
Another crazy house party! get your ass out of the tired Capitol Hill Bar Bullshit Friday the 27th!
Hooray for Everything is fucking awesome music from the Bay, and y’all know all about the other bands. AGAIN we will have some kegs so bring dollars for that and for these California rock stars!
222 15TH AVE right behind the youth detention center on first hill! come out and parrty.
Theres about 100 people who have rsvp so if you’re looking for a full sloppy house party you should go to this.
Thanks to miss Lexi I was informed that the sale on disposable cameras was back on at Bartell’s! I was so exited to take advantage of it again….So be prepared for more photo up dates on my life! These are from random nights spent with friends and what not…..
John Saade Poppajorge – American
criminal poet, 1896-1920
Hailing from the black-hills of South Dakota, John Saade Poppajorge was the only child of a lucky frontier couple who had cashed in during the gold rush. At twelve years old, after recovering form a gunshot wound that would leave him blind in one eye and wearing a small, black eye patch for the rest of his short life, he abandoned his home, riding the rails all the way to New York City, where he found work taking inventory on cargo ships in Brooklyn boat yards. At 17, he was arrested for illegally dealing arms that he had been stealing from the ships. He was sent to prison for 2 years and a couple of months, where he discovered Shakespeare and Cervantes (amongst other notable literary big-wigs) in the shabby penitentiary library. After being released on his twentieth birthday, he joined the navy but only for the free ride to Paris, where he went AWOL and began writing poetry under various pseudonyms. His inaugural book, Foot-Shark, was published by a small Parisian press that specialized in pornographic novellas, such as Ma Vie Dans la Mer de Rose and Les Onze Mille Roses Fou. Foot-Shark was met with mixed reviews, some calling it, “An astonishing debut from Americas most promising poet..” and others putting it down as “a collection of loose, American trash.” It is said that Picasso once drew a picture of John Saade Poppajorge at a dinner party thrown by Gertrude Stein. He was described by the Spanish painter as “a quite loathsome individual who kept drunkenly hitting on my wife and pawing at her feet. He’s no writer, just an animal.” It is known that he often lunched with Gertrude Stein and is said that he was accompanied by a new, stunning, woman each and every time. In 1920, at the age of 24, following a tumultuous nervous breakdown, he walked into a brothel and stabbed himself repeatedly through the heart. He had no funeral and was buried in an unmarked grave, just as he had wished. The following is a poem from his posthumous collection, The Impecunious Nymphomaniac.
In a bloom
I appear to be
And rather fragrant
In a flight
You bare every flaccid appendage and
Execrate your underwear and also:
a) a tailbone
b) a jaundiced baby with a cobras lucky fang
c) a marble index
d) the effigy of an old flame carved into a bar of soap
e) opulent pollen sweeping through through a nasal cavity; yours!
f) all of the above and a mordant wardrobe as yr cannon
In a mou
He is primarily
a liar or a walking
Woodstalk or a jem a jewel or else a jew-rat
because that is a thing
a thing is something my mother would say
My mother is a particular color of woman
A woman is a woman is a dog
Therefore this particular color
must be cactus green-
In a scratch
She is from another street
Nothing new here but
A vixen that would suck on yr
Heartbeat as if it were a firecracker. It’s true too!!
She fucked with death and almost died from mutation.
Somewhere in that corsage is a loveliness a
very spankable girl writing
A very melic poem while asking to be
Because to smack harder and then harder
Takes some ardor
and the spankable girl indeed loves
a driven young man, a professional; his profession,
A wolf-hound specializing in sexual perversion
We were starved bats in flame
laying siege on opal-traced night times
Foaming from gullets and happy too
but now we are still happy
like a loon or a bowl of cherries and
Sometimes it’s even sorta-kinda