Gwen, Brad and I drove crisscrossed the metroplex last night running errands. We had to go to the bank, to Radio Shack, out for dinner, to my parents house, to his parents house, to the bowling alley and then back home. We left around 6:45pm.
kick the kick drum
increase the weight of the sound
the dialogue of maximum decibels
is enough to move the fucking ground
i’m gonna amplify the rage
of a class that’s not inferior
the message’s in the volume
this song’s a carrier
Thumbing through Brad’s collection of CDs, our trip equated to a 3 hour tour of our past, narrated by the punk rock music we listened to. Brad and I wildly flailed our arms and shouted the lyrics to the best of our recollection as Gwen grooved in the passenger’s seat.
say you’re at a party
and everyone’s having fun.
all your friends are skanking
all except for one.
there’s no need to ask him
why he’s in denial.
just wait for the jumping beat then….
dogpile!!
Bank of America politely informed Brad that they only cashed checks for their customers, regardless if the account the check is written against is a Bank of America account. Radio Shack was just across the parking lot, and so we headed over there to pick up some RJ-45 wall plates.
Come on baby won´t you show me what you got
I want your salvationI can´t believe these people live like kings
Hidden estates and diamond rings
I´m a rat out on a mission
I´m in your front yard under suspicion
Fuddruckers was our dinner location. I watched the illiterate and unbathed cooks ladle huge scoops of mushrooms atop slightly cooked burgers, scooping the strays that fell off up with their bare hands to place them back on top of the pile. Seemingly for no reason whatsoever, during the course of our meal, Gwen picked up a huge slice of tomato and smacked Brad across the forehead with it, leaving a nice circle of acidic juice across his brow. I tend to have a problem maintaining the volume of my voice when excited. This little problem led to me shouting “She just wants to be fucked… BAD” across the dining area. I think I need to work on this problem.
the position being taken
is not to be mistaken
for attempted education or righteous accusation
only a description
just an observation
of the pitiful condition of our degeneration
We took off towards my parents house. The fog had settled in pretty thick. Driving down the back-roads of my old neighborhood, with Brad, and these songs shaking the seat behind me brought back more memories than I can count. The white wall of fog offered a screen for my mind to project its biography on. I have come a long way since those days. Sure, I miss the old times, I miss the good times, I miss the crazy times…. but I am glad I am where I am, and that I have become what I have become.
this town its fucking insane
how one will starve and another will gain
like a giant mechanical brain
and the people are cells and the streets are veins
it thinks only of itself
a thousand limbs crawling as it expands and grows
and still the concrete sits there
sits there
stark grey and cold
My parents house was warm and inviting… as it always has been. My sister sat watching TV with her boyfriend. Brad, my father and I discussed methods to use the Cat 5 cable that runs through our apartment for ethernet connectivity. We have a plan. My parents gave me a check for $300. I hate borrowing money from them. Not because they make a big deal about it, or because they make me feel bad for needing it, but because I feel like a failure when I have to. Because I know I should be able to make it without their help. We left my father’s place, and headed for Brad’s parents’ house.
a promise to go to heaven won’t put salvation in sight
whirlwind is comin’ down on me
Our stay here was pretty short. Brad got some more of his things, and worked out some money issues with his parents. We made a quick stop at a convenience store and then headed for Showplace Lanes. Gwen wanted to stop by there and hang out with some of the ICP crowd.
civilization
ha I call it as I see it
I call it bullshit
you know
I still cannot believe it
our evolution now
has gone the way of hate
a world evolved
resolved in this stupid fate
stop this war
The bowling alley was… interesting. ICP fans are hardcore fans, sitting around, drinking faygo, pulling the brightly colored dreads from in front of their eyes, and constantly adjusting the wide assortment of backward baseball hats, and upside down visors atop their heads. All of them were proudly wearing something from the ICP line of clothing. Apparently, a girl known mostly has “penguin” believes I have a “thing” for her, and she has it bad for me too. Believe me, ladies and gentlemen, this is not a good thing.
make the sink a virgin
genuflect and piss in it
worth all the seamy novelties
we ripped off at the joke store.we may be immortal
the way we get away with it
we ridicule the mannequins
who came here just to look bored.nicotine molested
taste it on your finger tips.
black tongue and vodka spit well.little yellow bellies
little yellow bellies
walking side by side
side by side
Eventually, we left the bowling alley and headed home. Gwen joked about giving Brad a blow job on the way home. I laughed, she laughed, but Brad wasn’t laughing. She started to fake like she was going down on him. Brad kept telling her to stop. She kept talking, like she had a dick in her mouth. It was hilarious…. until I found out she actually WAS going down on him. I guess that’s why Brad wasn’t laughing.
i didn’t know what time it was
when the sun went down
Detroit, mission
the bus downtown
last night i was fighting
on the street
but tonight i have a girl next to me in this cold world
she brings me heati gotta good feeling in a bad city tonight
i gotta good feeling everything’s gonna be alright