Thursday, February 28, 2002
I've come to realize that I'm insane, and this is perfectly reasonable. I may not 'blog' anymore due to this. Sometimes, things in life just push you and prod at you until you break. It's a slow and painful cause, and at the end of this road of torment is a beacon. Things become perfectly clear at your lowest point. I'm just so unable to act for myself anymore, I can not touch this beacon. It's sad. It's logical. Life tells you to give up; you must give up. There are bigger and better things in this world for me. Or maybe there aren't. It's my job to find out. G'bye.
Monday, February 25, 2002
A BOY NAMED SUE
My daddy left home when I was three And he didn't leave much to ma and me Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze. Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid But the meanest thing that he ever did Was before he left, he went and named me "Sue."
Well, he must o' thought that is was quite a joke And it got a lot of laughs from a' lots of folk, It seems I had to fight my whole life through. Some gal would giggle and I'd get red And some guy'd laugh and I'd bust his head, I tell ya, life ain't easy for a boy named "Sue.''
Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean, My fist got hard and my wits got keen, I'd roam from town to town to hide my shame. But I made me a vow to the moon and stars That I'd search the honky-tonks and bars And kill that man that give me that awful name.
Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July And I just hit town and my throat was dry, I thought I'd stop and have myself a brew. At an old saloon on a street of mud, There at a table, dealing stud, Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me "Sue.''
Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad from a worn-out picture that my mother'd had, And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye. He was big and bent and gray and old, And I looked at him and my blood ran cold And I said: ``My name is Sue! How do you do! Now you gonna die!!''
Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes And he went down but, to my surprise, He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear. But I busted a chair right across his teeth And we crashed through the wall and into the street Kicking and a' gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer.
I tell ya, I've fought tougher men But I really can't remember when, He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile. I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss, He went for his gun and I pulled mine first, He stood there lookin' at me and I saw him smile.
And he said: "Son, this world is rough And if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough And I know I wouldn't be there to help ya along. So I give ya that name and I said goodbye I knew you'd have to get tough or die And it's that name that helped to make you strong.''
He said: "`Now you just fought one hell of a fight And I know you hate me, and you got the right To kill me now, and I wouldn't blame you if you do. But ya ought to thank me, before I die, For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye Cause I'm the (CENSORED, because I'm mad that every single recording of this live bleeps it out. This angers me. It's S.O.B.) that named you `Sue.'''
I got all choked up and I threw down my gun And I called him my pa, and he called me his son, And I come away with a different point of view. And I think about him, now and then, Every time I try and every time I win, And if I ever have a son, I think I'm gonna name him Bill or George! Anything but Sue! I still hate that name!
My daddy left home when I was three And he didn't leave much to ma and me Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze. Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid But the meanest thing that he ever did Was before he left, he went and named me "Sue."
Well, he must o' thought that is was quite a joke And it got a lot of laughs from a' lots of folk, It seems I had to fight my whole life through. Some gal would giggle and I'd get red And some guy'd laugh and I'd bust his head, I tell ya, life ain't easy for a boy named "Sue.''
Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean, My fist got hard and my wits got keen, I'd roam from town to town to hide my shame. But I made me a vow to the moon and stars That I'd search the honky-tonks and bars And kill that man that give me that awful name.
Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July And I just hit town and my throat was dry, I thought I'd stop and have myself a brew. At an old saloon on a street of mud, There at a table, dealing stud, Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me "Sue.''
Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad from a worn-out picture that my mother'd had, And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye. He was big and bent and gray and old, And I looked at him and my blood ran cold And I said: ``My name is Sue! How do you do! Now you gonna die!!''
Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes And he went down but, to my surprise, He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear. But I busted a chair right across his teeth And we crashed through the wall and into the street Kicking and a' gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer.
I tell ya, I've fought tougher men But I really can't remember when, He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile. I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss, He went for his gun and I pulled mine first, He stood there lookin' at me and I saw him smile.
And he said: "Son, this world is rough And if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough And I know I wouldn't be there to help ya along. So I give ya that name and I said goodbye I knew you'd have to get tough or die And it's that name that helped to make you strong.''
He said: "`Now you just fought one hell of a fight And I know you hate me, and you got the right To kill me now, and I wouldn't blame you if you do. But ya ought to thank me, before I die, For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye Cause I'm the (CENSORED, because I'm mad that every single recording of this live bleeps it out. This angers me. It's S.O.B.) that named you `Sue.'''
I got all choked up and I threw down my gun And I called him my pa, and he called me his son, And I come away with a different point of view. And I think about him, now and then, Every time I try and every time I win, And if I ever have a son, I think I'm gonna name him Bill or George! Anything but Sue! I still hate that name!
Happy Birthday tomorrow to the Man in Black: Johnny Cash 70 years old!
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Sunday, February 24, 2002
Nigga please, ask yo mamma for some cheese
Tell her need some restitution like them Vietnamese
in Vietnam, cause Rahzel drops the bomb
More complex than texts, in your Holy Qu'ran
Tell her need some restitution like them Vietnamese
in Vietnam, cause Rahzel drops the bomb
More complex than texts, in your Holy Qu'ran
Thursday, February 21, 2002
it is so.
I live in the American Gardens building on West 81st street--on the eleventh floor. My name is Patrick Bateman. I'm twenty-seven years old. I believe in taking care of myself and a balanced diet and a rigorour exercise routine. In the morning, if my face is a little puffy, I'll put on an ice-pack while doing my stomach crunches. I can do a thousand now. After I remove the ice pack, I use a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower, I use a water-activated gel cleanser; then, a honey almond body scrub. And on the face, an exfoliated gel scrub. Then I apply an herb-mint facial mask, which I leave on for ten minutes while I prepare for the rest of my routine. I always use an after shave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer. Then an anti-aging eye-balm followed by a final-moisturizing protective lotion. There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of an abstraction, but there is no real me (only an entity, something illusory). And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours, and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comprable, I simply am not there.
Wednesday, February 13, 2002
Mmm....Andrew W.K. Long live hair metal in all it's stupidity.