Author: jae

word to ya mutha’s son. somebody tell me where i’m wrong?

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i wish to state that every human on earth is bisexual to a degree. don’t deny it, people. when the whole world is Out, we shall all live much happier lives and be the better for it.

it’s too bad that polyamory just isn’t for everyone. that would make things absolutely perfect! or at least a helluva lot closer to the utopian ideal, anyway. (my own personal view is that i want someone to hold onto for dear life… and a third person would just bring us all crashing down. & i hate long drops.)

before you call me on it (& i know somebody will say something), i will say that i know bisexuality isn’t for everyone either. but everyone IS bisexual (as far as i am concerned). not everyone is inherently polyamorous. anyway, this isn’t a fucking dissertation, it’s just the way i, lord o’er my universe (and all the planets contained therein), see things. so don’t flood me with complaints or rant about me in your journal.

…why do i get the feeling that i just shouldn’t be allowed to speak my mind?

here now is what i was trying to articulate in a recent post regarding closing my eyes at my granmother’s grave, as best i can relate it to you:

it was like a universe-sized opening at the back of nothingness itself.

it was almost transcendental, in a similar way that reading Kerouac while listening to Sonic Youth is almost transcendental.

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Amelia Earhart was damn sexy. it was her unflagging bravery in the face danger. her spirit. her damn-the-torpedoes-ness.

unfortunately, the big turn-off is just around the corner: she was too cocky, too arrogant. she put self-promotion above safety. she ripped out her backup radio and routinely took off before checks were complete. fucking dumbass.

(something few know about me a-’cause it’s always so hidden away, buried underneath all the other layers of me-ness: big aviation freak from Day One. i spose anyone who grew up in and around Dayton, Ohio would be. and by the way, fuck you, Kittyhawk.)

now, on a more mundane level: her face always reminded me of Susan, the older sister of my best pal David, growing up, when i was a little kid. she was my first kiss, and also the first time i ever saw a real live pussy. i couldn’t have been any older than ten. i wonder what ever happened to her. she had nice lips.

also sexy: Janeane Garofalo, and Lauren Graham (Lorelai Gilmore on The Gilmore Girls), because they are damn funny, and smart-funny to boot. i love intelligent, funny, hip women. especially the cynical freethinkin’ types. i’d practically kill a man if Janeane G. arsked me to.

added webcam to transmothra.com, and updated the Flash menu at the top to get the text out from behind the colored dots. also animated the colored dots, because i just like stupid-ass crap like that.

don’t expect any smut, either. and don’t get smart with me, or i’ll smack the taste outchya mouf.

listening to Sonic Youth (right now, i’m listening to Murray Street) while reading Jack Kerouac (and reading Big Sur) may possibly be the best combination, ever. the language of disaffectation, or rather, disenfranchisement speaks volumes in a hazy swirl of almost mystical synesthesia. perhaps it is really just that when i first read Kerouac (The Dharma Bums), years ago, i was probably listening to a combination of the Youth masterpiece Daydream Nation, The Mekons, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Yes, The Pixies, and Jimi Hendrix, all artists who, like Kerouac hisself, exemplified that teetering-over-the-edge style, crafting arrangements that at once seemed to both break apart and yet somehow come together, like opposing tidal waves of sound that crash against each other even as they merge nearly soundlessly underneath the surface into one vast living fluid; plasmatic like a fucking sunspot, man. beatific.

and this new Sonic Youth record is the best album i’ve heard, not just from them but from anyone, in years. not since Sun Ra, that great glorious freak who literally came to us from Outer Space to reveal his message to us over the course of numerous albums and live sets spanning decades (solar time) before going home again, has there been such an amalgamation of heaviness and pure, unadulterated (or purely adulterated, depending on yr point of view) catchy rhythm and melody. art-noise pop. back then, it was jazz… now it’s (only) rock and roll. my head is swirling. in a good way.

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warning: gross subject change!

it is no big secret that the words angst, anxious, anxiety, and anguish all come from the same latin root. it’s all about torment; that backwards pitying of the human soul. i look forward (?) with nausea and disgust to the day, coming ever closer now, that millions will die under the fists of The Alpha Monkeys. the pit of my stomache churns and twists under the weight of this horrible feeling of history running backwards again… i’m telling you, there can be no good that comes from war. and why is it always the poor enlisted G.I. who fights headfirst in the fire? these men are brave to die for such terrible cowards. why not put those madmen up front? how many lives could be spared that way…? i say kill the head and let the body get some peace for once. i don’t like to think any more about what the world is truly coming to… the course that evil dictators plot for us all… like two ship captains, fired up by their own testosterone-fueled braggadocio, eager to ram each other, even knowing full well that it will surely sink the rest of us. i fear we shall all die at the bottom of the ocean of our own horrible iniquities.

finally finished and uploaded chapters six, seven, and eight of Pioneer to transmothra.com.

also made sure i uploaded the newest versions of the first five chapters.
let me know what you think.

(thanks to every single other LJ-er out there, who’ve all already done this, for the idea, btw)

here’s the deal. i’ve turned off IP logging, and anonymous posting is, as always, enabled.

confess something to me. anything at all. anonymous if necessary (& you don’t have to have a LiveJournal, either)

you don’t have to literally confess anything, per se, just say something here that you wouldn’t usually say anywhere else. tell me yr darkest secret.

EDIT: i’ll post the answers here midnight-ish daily.

Jackie Corley, people. Jackie Corley.

learn that fuckin name now. (also Foster O’Reilly.)

that is all.

James Coburn is dead.

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noticed the other day that i’m back on my half-fag kick. this means that instead of smoking 3/4 of a pack a day, i’m really smoking more like half or even less (i never seem to finish the butts). this is good.

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i’ve got yet another damn idea for a book. actually, more of a format for a story. more later. i think i may have to go back to writing shorts. i get too overwhelmed when i start something too ambitious. i haven’t written for Pioneer in more than a week now. i know that i can’t make the 50,000. it bothers me less than it should. or maybe more. i dunno. i have too many stories but not enough endings, or even middles lately.

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sunday, at 6:59pm, it happened. all the dancing and leaf-raking lately took their toll. the muscles in my calves and upper back and shoulders felt like they were made of stone… so sore. and i’m running low on painkillers.

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google finally spidered meat-thing.com, so why am i getting LESS hits?

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call it carte blanche.

i am vehemently anti-aggression, anti-violence, anti-war, anti-nuclear weapons, etc… but i’m all for The Bomb. fuck it… kill us all, we fucked up. game over; got another quarter? and ya know what else? i’m fucking sick and tired of – let me take a deep breath here – the Middle East. yes, i said it, and believe me, i absofuckinlutely HATE feeling this way, but i can only be honest. all the problems in the world today come from there. George W. Bush may be a stinking filthy little rotten asshole who deserves a good beatdown, but at least he isn’t actually trying to set a record for accumulating enemies, even if he’s actually doing that anyway. i dunno, it just seems like them Arabs is crazy on havin’ enemies or something. maybe it really IS Islam. i hate feeling so rotten about things like that, because i’ve read part of the Q’uran and i’ve known a few Arab folk… believe me, this awfulness i’m saying bothers me more than it does you, even if you’re somehow even more self-righteous than i am. i mean, there are certainly Beautiful People in all cultures, and within those cultures, in all areas of society, in every caste, class, and section. but there are also plenty of nasty little shitheads, too. and it just really seems like all anybody ever wants to do over there is kill enemies, kill enemies, all day long. wake up, have some cereal for breakfast, put on yr hat and coat and go kill enemies. it’s like they clock in for this shit or something. maybe Allah pays better than Jesus. or maybe they’re just really needing the overtime. but you never hear of this much CONSTANT violence elsewhere – not even in Detroit, for chrissakes! what would happen if some day some zealous Arab woke up and discovered that he had already killed off ALL of his enemies? he would make more, mark my words! you just know that SOMEbody out there has got to have slightly different ideas on things than he has… now, just to find and kill them!! oh, i don’t know how to feel. i still love them and think of everyone as truly my Brothers and Sisters, all over the world. and i will not kill. but god damn it, and god damn those who do kill, and

god damn religion.drop The Bomb already. millions of them. i don’t want it to be a tilted, uneven genocide. i really don’t want it at all, but there’s nothing else we can do, if we can’t get our shit together and live in peace on this rock. so drop it. go ahead, drop it motherfuckers. you know you want to. kill us. kill us all. kill us all dead good.

yes, call it carte blanche.

i am to believe that i am not cool unless i buy into fake Hollywood glamor culture and the ad machine that runs it, selling america a lie and a sham, wrapped in plastic and falsely labeled “soul”. i am to believe that those models i see in print ads and on television are much better than me, unless i buy what they sell (still no guarantees, in fact when i get home and unwrap it, always i find that there is simply more to buy and that i’ve been had every time and no one will look at me or give me the time of day unless i am as “hip” (ha!) as these corporate mascot sons and daughters of advertising flakes and fiscal robots want us to think they are). i am fed up with Hollywood, i am fed up with media, i am fed up with stars and celebrities and most of all the idolization and downright worship of celebrities and the mass marketing of this fucked up celebrity culture we have allowed to replace genuine life with. i am fed up with the handful of “musicians” who make a profit and the media conglomerates who built or cloned them, who never promote or pay decent artists or art and therefore end up ripping off the artists in equal amounts as they do the consumers. i am fed up with fashion. i am fed up with the lie that i will never be one of the beautiful people, when in reality i already am, and the ones they sell to us as beautiful people are not only ugly, but disgusting and gluttonous. i am fed up with the violence-orgies that are packaged as entertainment. i am fed up with pale, shallow, focus-grouped imitations of reality. i am fed up with the machine. i am fed up with the machine. i am fed up with the machine. i am not a commodity. i am not a product. i am no longer entertained by what depraved nonsense now goes by the name of “entertainment.” i am not giving in to Hollywood’s demands that i be rich and shiny. i am not ever going to believe what ads try to train me to think. i am not enriched by this spectacle. i am not simply a consumer. i am not a voluntary member of any target demographic. Hollywood is bloodless and bloody and bloodthirsty. Hollywood is a fiction i don’t care to know any more. Hollywood is not the home of one single dream of mine. Hollywood is not america. Hollywood is a pimp trying to turn us all into fucked-out whores. Hollywood is not real. Hollywood is not the birthplace of civilisation, despite what they want us to believe. i do not believe in anything that comes out of Hollywood or from Madison Avenue. Hollywood is not america. fashion is a disease. Hollywood is not america. i do not want idols; i want ideals. Hollywood is not america. Hollywood is not america.

(i offer no apologies to those few i know who work in that sick industry, love them though i do. get out while you still have a soul… before it winds up on e-bay, fucked-out and hollow and spent like a used piece of trash. there is still hope. it is never too late to become real again; even the plastic Pinocchios can do that.)

FUCK ILLUSION.

last night tres cool, played Kool Keith’s Black Elvis/Lost in Space for Tony on the way down to Jessie’s, then she drove us in to 1470, angel she is. i am pleased to report that 1470’s still is cool after all these years. spent every dime i had at the bar (of course) buying rinks for me & Tony, started out with a coupla Long Island Iced Teas and he had 2 40s Crazy Horse on the way, drank whiskey at first then upstairs (finally at 11:30, open) we had several Killian’ses cheaply… first song i danced to was Sisters of Mercy’s “This Corrosion” because i don’t care what anyone says about them, they still rock my world, whiny and pretentious though Eldritch may be. danced all night long and they even played “Time Warp” (i found that me & my companions seemed to have forgotten the words after not having RHPS here for years now) and that Halloween song from The Nightmare Before Christmas, plus plenty of good old early 90’s industrial and goth… i wore my black denims, Chuck Taylors, a nice totally black long-sleeved button-up shirt (buttoned down actually) and my leather jacket and let my hair fly all over the place. Good Times.

wee-hee! check out the new goatee i cultivated! i’m taking it to the club 2nite!

it’s own! Tony’s coming out tonight wit’ us! the shit thing is, i’ll prolly have to skip paying car insurance this month, ‘coz i hafta pay for two people b-sides myself *sigh* but wtf? i’m having funfunfun 2nite!

oh, how i’ve missed Dayton nitelife with its hustlers and junkies and whores and penny-ante dealers crawling the streets til dawn… the weirdos, buzzed-out and drunked up, and everyone looking for stories while each telling their own to whoever’ll listen… late nights at allnight diners, pre-hangover, paying for a coffee with whatever pocketchange you haven’t already signed over to the bartender… angry purple neon under brown night canopy… denizens of every flavor running loose underneath, everyone looking for god somewhere because you can’t see through the coffee sludge at the top of the night… one vast playground full of streets and awful, empty, fallingdown warehouses (warehousen? warehise?)… the smell of cars that move when they should really be broken down somewhere, leaking petrol fuel, radiator cap busted, carburetor spew, muffler bearings, headlight gaskets, o-rings setting oil FREE!, beauty of old rusted V8 Plymouth rock and rolling rock, rolling church rocking and knocking and pinging and tappity tap clap tik knock knock? all-night LSD binges under sky littered with -not stars at all but- distant fourthofjuly sparklers, disembodied or else left by gods either too ashamed or suddenly bored to carry them any further across the great inkgreasy black canvas… UFOs, mofo, and they stole my mojo at the HoJo… Kitaro blends with Hendrix blends with Love blends with Iron Butterfly blends with Steppenwolf blends with Ravi Shankar and it all comes out somehow as Depeche Mode, beat that! ultraviolet wig-outs by speed freaks having a Jesus meltdown in the middle of Brown Street… reggae women… spare change… paper… how long’s that trash been on the side of the street? article says 1973 but the rust looks brand new when you wipe the mud away….

DAMN! i’m out of Zig-Zags!

damn near cut my hair down to a Caesar today.

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got Pearl Jam’s new album Riot Act ($10 at Wal-Mart!), plus (i couldn’t resist & spent every damn dime i had) the Star Wars AotC DVD + LotR:FotR expanded DVD (4 disc set!). probably going over to Fred & Lisa’s new house to watch one or both tonight. also got some L-carnitine (damn i’m losing a lot of weight on that shit (20 lbs so far) but ran out a few days ago and gained back 2-3 lbs), and assorted necessities such as toothpaste and the like.

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i put some favicons on meat-thing.com & transmothra.com. in IE, just add it to your bookmarks. i think it’s [ctrl] + d or something. in NS7, it should appear automatically. nothing really intensely cool or anything. meat-thing is the meat-thing creature, and transmothra is the transmothra silhouette.

incidentally, meat-thing hisself originally comes from the backside of an employees-only sign at ABC Liquors that i invented some comic book characters all over. i actually made half a comic book out of them, but i never finished the story. the artwork was really good, too. i called it The Improbable Doobie Duo, and it featured my first two Bearded Freaks^tm characters. i’ll hafta dig it up sometime. i do plan on finishing it, inking it, colouring it, and putting it on the web, even if it’s just a one-off. me + Ria had our first conversation alone when she mentioned it one night over @ Travis & Krista’s all those years ago. i’d left it over there once, and she remembered it and had my face put to it in her head and everything. i was always real thankful and pleasantly surprised for that.

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going to 1470’s tomorrow night. goth/industrial night upstairs + hip-hop/R&B downstairs. i’ve emailed the old skool gang to see if anyone wants to help de-laminate the place. or de-lamify. i dunno. turn that mutha OUT. yeah, that’s it. the old skool crew will probably mainly stay upstairs, but if i hear one truly funky note down below, it’s time to git bizzy. jer will be gettin’ his FUNK on tomorrow. now all i have to do is make sacrificial offerings to my demented gods so that a certain [insanely sexy] someone will be there to bump & grind with….

site was down last week due to server problems. no problem now. also i’ve been working on a novel (working title: Pioneer) for National Novel Writing Month. it’s located here.

i’m back to using LiveJournal as my personal journal again, btw. even bought a paid account, finally.

pioneer now has a home on the web suitable for viewing… chapters have been divided up onto separate pages via PHP and formatting has been specially tweaked for this section of transmothra.com

meat-thing.com/transmothra.com/prose/book.php

my new icon… i call it “Mothrael” :)

weird, one of my non-LJ pals (but a reader) (i know, creepy, isn’t it? an outsider…! COME GET YR OWN, DAMMIT!) was on Trillian and pointed me to this. obviously referring to this post i made earlier today. i guess she still reads this… however, i’m not prejudiced against p/a; in fact one of the coolest people in the whole pentaverse is poly, and from what i can see (3/4 of a continent away that is) it works for her rather nicely most of the time, just like anything would for anybody. i also happen to think that she’s somehow cooler than the rest of us for it (ha! take THAT, monogamy-idolators!), because she’s got her head wrapped around it real good.

so look: i meant no offense. i was making fun of my own wacky inability to have a relationship in a post-monogamous society. in fact, even monogamy apparently isn’t for me. i think praps that maybe nonogamy works better for me, as goofy as that sounds. i’m not real sure why you [wanted to] think that i was trying to be shitty, especially to you specifically. i mean, if i’m going to rant about you, i’ll do it a lot less covertly [than that post], just as i have done before. but i’m not going to do that, because i have moved on from all that crap… far beyond, in fact. i was not test-firing ICBMs, much less aiming one at your capital. i was simply setting off some leftover firecrackers on the moon. so sorry i used a word you dislike. anyway, i’ve been taking a very laissez-faire, c’est la vie attitude about these [you-related] things lately, and it’s been working out very nicely, i’m afraid. so no, nothing has been pointed at you for quite some time now, except for this. not intentionally anyway; that’s the truth, as honest as it can be.

why am i always apologising for things i didn’t do?

and to Autumn, and in fact all poly peeps: hey, if my post managed to offend you in any way whatsoever, then i am sorry; it was definitely not meant to.

man alive, all that from one lousy word?

and here i was: all happy, just now even had a slice of leftover pizza-pie and was about to settle down with some Sigur Ros and Radiohead and contemplate the idyllic Single Life… the next motherfucker who tries to rain on my parade is gonna get it, that’s all. (November happens to be FTW month here at transmothra industries, LLC.) well… at least i got to use my new icon appropriately.

Q’sOTD (from memory):

“I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. I am large; I contain multitudes!”

-Walt Whitman

“Take my advice: don’t listen to me.”

-Neil Young