This Month's Model.

October 2009

1. iLL - Cosmic Star
2. The Bravery - Slow Poison
3. New Order - The Beach
4. Paint in Watercolour - Glare
5. Iggy Pop - Nightclubbing
6. Fountains of Wayne - Sink to the Bottom
7. Coaltar of the Deepers - Cell
8. Bad Veins - Gold And Warm
9. Shout Out Louds - The Comeback
10. Lissy Trullie - She Said
11. The Danks - Who Knows?
12. The XX - Do You Mind
13. Weezer - Keep Fishin'
14. Catherine Wheel - Texture
15. The Stooges - Your Pretty Face is Going to Hell

Why did the Swiss snitch out Roman Polanski?
I thought they were supposed to be neutral..

Black Jacket.

my new black $6 dollar jacket.
I effin' love it to death.

Cassandra.

in the grimmest of times
i'll be beside you
learning to lend
my heart in blue
raise lighting
call out some hail
open the skies
let me know your there

my, he put a curse on you
he might as well spit on your face
let your dreams lead me to your light
don't let your gift go to waste

life is but a dream
and we hold ours
in each others hands

it's scary how your always right
the buried shine makes my eyes dialate
make sure to keep my affection
in your hands to precipitate

i know the good life is coming on
taken with only a single sip
and let my cripped fingers
wipe the blood from your lips

the disease is always so cruel
the cure comes
a friday too soon

i should have seen this coming
i knew you did

i see my world collapse
in my eyes and yours
are you the sun to bring the light of day
or the moon to rob its rights?

not so funny to long without her
no similes, non sequitur
i make time to get it in the clutch
but it's over for it's occasion

love's not about prediction
we can change our future
so, just believe

i should have seen this coming
i knew you did

My Name is Weezer.

Hmmmmmmm.
(Sips from 12 oz can of Coke.)
God damn you, half-japanese girls.

Today, i head over the sam goody's, looking for the some new, good music, but simply was dissappointed with the lack of selection, and the atrocity of jacked-up prices. ($18.99 for music? BS.) But slowly as I happened to glance, in the back of one of the bins was a little selection of Weezer cds. I already have the Blue Album, the Green Album, and the first I bought from them, 'Make Believe', which I though was underrated, concidering the kind of reviews it got. (Although, I wasn't into 'Beverly Hills' too much). The only two albums that really got my eye, was 'Pinkerton' + 'Maladroit,' because their were the only two Weezer albums I didn't have. Both supposed to stray from the unique, quintessienal 'Weezer' sound, as displayed by all of the self-titled albums. At first, thought to myself, this is kinda weird, how they come up with these names. Its like they pulled it out of there imagination hats. All the albums, including their upcoming one, 'Raditude' sound like they came from a book of spells from Harry Potter. (Weezer itself is a weird name, thus I include all the self-titled albums; but i forgot to mention that 'Make Believe' is not one of the included albums, but kinda says where they get the names from.) So after that thought to myself, i left the record store, and get music how everyone gets it in this decade: rapidshare.

(Watches 'Island in the Sun', Mexican Weddings?)


Sure, its not exactly supporting the artists downloading for free, but these music CEOs had it coming when pricing these CDs almost twenty bucks, when their about 75 cents to make. So i download both 'Pinkerton' + 'Maladroit.' And after listening to both, i orchestrated the conclusion that these are very underrated albums, constantly overlooked for the self-titled albums or the very singles that got them famous. Don't get me wrong, the singles are works of masterpieces composed by the very genius of Mr. Cuomo. But one or two songs can't speak for a band's entire catalog. 'Pinkerton' + 'Maladroit' flow together as its own album as the songs complement with each other. While 'Pinkerton' is darker and known as the predecessor of the Emo genre, 'Maladroit' is much heavier with amped-up guitars set up to 11. One makes me wants to curl up into a ball and question effort, while the other makes me want to jump up and down until i realize that the ceiling fan is on. Both just inches short of masterpiece. But with the way the last album was and the next one, i feel the luster they got from Fonzie and Spike (Go watch 'Buddy Holly,' you degenerate.) has welted away from their roots. But doesn't mean i can't have faith or anything, right?

"Who the hell is that guy on the 'Green Album'?"
(Sips Coke, dripping some on chin.)
Man, whatever happened to Mikey? He seemed awesome.

Chekhov's Gun, Part 2.

As I was pulled by these lifeless souls, as I found myself beside your grave and your tree. My foot fell in a little hole, and I could taste death only an inch away. But in the darkest of moments, I’d find light. In my pocket, it was a revolver. Never have I seen gun like this, but it looked quite used with a familiar smell I couldn’t recall. I check the barrel and found six bullets, loaded in the chamber. There were only six corpses. Perfect. I shot the first on the ribcage, where the lung should be and shot the next two in the skull. I shot the fourth one in the heart, which ricochet onto the heart of the next corpse. Only one had remained. And I have two bullets left. The odds were slowly pulled in my favor. I think lady luck was maybe smiling down on me. I felt closer to serenity. I pulled the trigger for the first bullet. Nothing happened. As it came closer and closer for an attack, I shot the second bullet. Nothing, again. In an instant, tranquility became hostile. And at the brink of becoming of death, time had froze. The sound of the bell stopped and everything fell silent. Its eyes gazed upon mine. In that short time, it seemed that its red eyes were the only color in that had ever lived in the world. I then look that its body and found two bullet holes in its chest. If nothing came out of my gun, how could it be shot? Then, like a tsunami of blood rushing into the head, I realized. It was you. You were my lover. At that point, I knew that Lady Luck was just a bad comedian, amused with her own joke. I wasn’t laughing.

Suddenly, I gazed into her eyes, and I remembered the dream I had on the night of the murder. A single silhouette slowly walking across the road, straight to your bedroom window. Your blue eyes stood out like sapphires while you were on your bed, halfway reading though The Seagull. You appeared so innocent and most definitely lovely. The backdoor opened, leaving only a trail of muddy footprints behind. She couldn’t hear the steps upon the creaky floorboards. Slowly out of the shadow appeared a pistol, and you gasp for air as the blood rushed so quickly; you could not escape out from your bed sheets fast enough. And without hesitation, ripping roars of thunder spread thought the soundwaves in ripples as the bullets pierced though the flesh. It went through your heart and onto the walls. You were slowly climbing on the walls in great pain for an escape. And out from the shadows was only the gun, with its barrel covered by the killer’s hand. But the face of the monster appeared out of the floorlight, and my evil eyes failed to release any intention of mercy. I didn’t want you to have that pleasure. And Bang. It was over. I pushed you over to check if you were breathing. You weren’t. You stood there; bullet holes were like rubies glowing from your brittle heart and your eyes were crying tears of scarlet, no long blue, but in deep shades of red. You were just lying there, up against the walls. I took your coat, to hide my bloody hands, and left the scene. I was long gone before the sirens came. I returned to my place and caught a front row seat to my masterpiece. And the last thing I remembered was that I was smiling. Yes, the killer was smiling.

I knew the appetite of your soul hungered for revenge. With one swipe, from your razor hands, I died right next to your grave. Slowly, I saw your spirit looming out of my vision toward the sunrise, as my soul flows out of my body, like tears. The last thing I ever saw was those tulips, slowly welting away as it has no more life to live. And I hoped, the sun will rise over the storm.


Well, keep dreaming.

Chekhov's Gun, Part 1.

After many months of searching and looking,
i finally moved out into my own apartment.
Hoo-Hah! +15 Experience Points!
But internet's a bitch here,
so i'm just lucky i get this much at this point.
For, enjoy this story i wrote.



I was once a lover in the early days of my life. It was most exciting when I had someone to love. I would stare at your picture from day to night, only wondering the time we would spend. But on that rainy Sunday evening, gunshots stormed the sky, like thunder, as the gods claimed another life. I look close to your body and cried a million tears. It was just all one bad nightmare and it shook me every night. I became almost afraid to sleep. And so, I wish you dream of the sweetest dreams, from now ‘til forever.
Ever since your death, the world has become black and white, all in one heavy haze. The police haven’t found a clue. No witnesses, no evidence. Paramedics found two bullets into the body. First bullet went straight to the heart, but it only caught in agonizing pain. The second went straight to her lungs, as implied by the empty corpse, it was searching for air. The police asked me some questions about the crime. I couldn’t tell them anything. I was asleep at the time of the crime. Her suicide kept me silent. Her death made me summoned the sorrow of a thousand rainy days. Always when I was awake. Always when I was asleep.
Before, I had better dreams. Blurry, maybe even weird every once in a while, but usually better. I’d pictured open plains, so green while moving in the wind; Citylights from far away it looked like a constellation; or maybe desert sands dancing around the forgotten oasis, with springs sparking though sunlight. But never, I had dreams so vivid and graphic. Over and over again, with the same soft face, she was crying tears of blood with the demons surrounding her, showing only a smile. He was just hiding under a shadow glazed with a wicked innuendo. I was trapped in only agony and in pain, as going to sleep was like going to war with the devil himself. And he was winning.
I walked alone to your house today, beneath a purple sky in a sullen day. I just lived across the street, on the third floor of my apartment. As I passed the yellow tape and stood outside your door, I saw a dirt garden with nothing but dust and welted flowers. I remembered there used to be a flower garden growing at the edge of your door step, where you always sat down and enjoyed that blissful smell of tulips. Now, there’s nothing more then dust and dirt, and a hole in the ground where the yard once was. Graffiti reigns against your house wall and broken glass from the window take the place of where those rosebushes were. I walked inside to find it a mess. There was a book on the floor, a rusty clothes hanger left beside a fallen coat rack and broken glass everywhere. The smell of old blood had stained the carpet taken that smell of roses. Even though the presence gave me nausea, there was nothing more then just the sweet memory of what this place once was. I never believed we should be far apart, because can only be stretched so far apart. But with you gone, everything has gone dead.
I always came by and left you tulips, by your grave. I knew that you wanted to smell them where your spirit was. I’d always loved its variety of colors, so bright and mellow. I think it expresses the how graceful the sun rises after a storm. As it rises, it shows deep serenity and splendor though colors of red, purple, blue, and yellow. But, those days are gone. Everything has become black and blue, with shades of only gray. I lay these flowers on your tombstone.
The night had groan cold. In the light, the falling rain was dead white before it was covered in a sheet of darkness; I stood right across your tomb. I used my new coat to protect me against the cold winds. Though it was a little heavy, I felt quite warm. The tree near your grave gave me a shade against the radiant moon and the violent rain. I don’t know why I was afraid of moon. I guess I must have watched too much horror movies. In one belief, it’s said that on the night of the full moon, the spirits were to be raised into the afterworld, where there souls could rest in peace. It was as if the moonlight was the path to show their way home. I wasn’t sure if you would leave just yet. I didn’t want to leave you alone. And I didn’t want you to go away.
At the stroke of midnight, the town’s clock tower rang its bell. I was becoming more and more drowsy, second by second. I tried my best not to doze off. Luckily, the sound of the bell will keep me awake. It usually rings twice, maybe three times all across the town. Even the residents living on the outskirts could hear the clock tower. But tonight was different. It didn’t stop after third ring. Nor it did at the fourth, the fifth, or even the sixth. It soon got louder. And louder. And louder. As the bell continued to ring, the ground started to shake, and a rumble had shaken the land viciously. Like the clocktower, it has yet to stop. Suddenly, cadavers rise from the ground, most violently and malicious. As the corpse rise from their shallow graves, I began to grow scared. Their lifeless eyes give me a sullen gaze and which led to a violent attack. They grab me by the leg and dragged me to a grave. I was trapped.......

To Charlotte.

just because it never showed
i'd always saved it for you to know
that i'll love no other girl but you

night whispers only its dreams of you
i'd never want the sun to return
but the days seem to grow when i'm with you

i'll be loving you in the morning
and keeping you in the evening
i know everything's right in place
cause i know, i'm already with you

it's warm when your near me
when you're in my arms, i melt inside
nothing ever matters when its with you

it matters where you are
when the distance seems so endless
i'd march across this line to see you

i'll return to you in the morning
and its always bright in the evening
there's to wish when the stars cross
cause i know, i'm already with you

your the oil for my engine soul
your my bitter sweets, im curious to know
your the sky that i yearn to reach
but you know I could never let go
you are the shell that gives me comfort
you are the voice that sings me to sleep
your the plane that drops me in the heavens
diving in tears where the angels weep

you are the circus i left to join
onto the wire, with no turning back
i dive with no net to save me
my love will have its second act
please don't go back to Versailles
if you do, the callous hounds will leave to die
will the chemistry last after you depart?
will the gods smile down upon this tainted heart?

you know its so hard
to bury the dead
oh, i fall down all over myself,
to this night...

Soaking Beneath a Silversun.

Twas the first show i attended into Pipeline, with headliners Silversun Pickups, i really didn't know what to expect. As I got in, the audience was more diverse then the show at the smaller venues. It was either the 15 to 16 year old girl + friends, or there parents. I find myself a bit unconfortible cause it really wasn't my age group to socialize with. Luckily, i found myself in front of the crowd, however, in front, to the right and to the back were these young couples, holding their lovers in arms, which didn't really set the right mood, cause i don't want to be next sappy lovebirds at a rock concert the whole time. But what was off, was a group of drunken white people to the left, consently pushing people without consideration or respect the fellow attendiees.

Doesn't matter though. It's not about the people, its about the music that makes a show great. As soon as they got on, the knock on all fours with noise blasting that surrounded the room. Reverbing guitars bounceing and feeding off of grand distortion. They started off with new tunes such as lead single 'Panic Switch' and others such as 'It's Nice to Know You Work Alone' & 'There's No Secrets This Year' before play their older tracks such as 'Little Lover's So Polite' & 'Well Thought Out Twinkles.' Near the end the crowd was wild with pushing, i didn't expect to be moshpitting, as the Pickups are so much Moshpitting-type of a band. But there so much action and sweat, my energy levels drained quickly, ever so...

The last song on the set list was their instant classic, 'Lazy Eye' which the crowd was pumped and chanted for. And in the end, the Pickups did not dissapoint, as they drowned the crowd in a massive tidal wave of mighty guitar which left my heart beating ever faster, and left my hands high up onto the soundwaves in the air; I was being wisked away into a shoegazey sea. The encore was composed of a few rare tracks from their first EP, 'Pikel' and from their debut, 'Carnavas.' On last song on the encore, the rarely played 'Creation Lake' it was the first time i was given the chance to hear the voice of the shy bassist. She appeared in great revere, in during this ballad, the crowd shouted how hot she was. She only responded with a soft smile. I couldn't disagree with the audience on this one.

By the time I got to the car, i couldn't even hear the engine start; because the echoes were still coloring my head with nothing but beautiful swoon. I was soaking in a silversun.

Echoes.

Rushing into the intrepid skies
The smell of thrill shallows me into adrenaline
Heavy noises feels like a clan of sharpen blades,
While, though the winds I cut in half,
The thrust of air leaves a small coat of yellow behind.
The passersby I bump into, while running away;
Makes a different coo for every piece of flesh I touch.
The everlasting danger that chases my tail,
Makes its way toward my back,
And climbs up toward my head bitterly;
My mind tries to shake these colors off
As the hit me on my blindside.
Slowly I’m caught in a corner of sound,
Hearing the obscure and the vicious shed on my skin
I smell the bells are ringing in my mouth,
And quietly, I drown beneath a sea of colors;
The feeling of danger drips from my nose,
And these echoes cause my thinking powers to go blank.