This is for My Friend Holmes, a Man quite well versed in Rock’n'Roll, This is for you. I know Father’s Day is well off, but, if I were your son, I’d be saving up for a Clash Boxset [Story about my dad and Legos and and Frank Lloyd Wright (Right?) to follow)]
It’s not about about Holmes. I mean, part of it is. Holmes has taught me ten times what I’ve seen in myself. It’s recursive….. No fuck this. I’m not being drawn into this. Katya is enough. Holmes is my personal trainer and tutor on all things. It’s private. Fuck off. When I’m dead he can write the book. He has full rights. I’m sayin that now.
Holmes has full rights to my life. I said it again.
[Don't worry. I keep a daily Diary. Passwords. Yes. You'll get it. Oh Joy]
Ceeuumplleeeaate!!! Control!
I have not listened to the Clash in ages. I found the tapes cleaning out the basement after the Great Flood of 2010. I’ve been looking for these. especially this one.
Give Them Enough Rope.
I’ve been praying for this one for years. I found it The first tune is Safe European Home. I’m sober for 5 days. Jacked on Coffee. The tape is bent it starts with abang than distorts and wobbles for ten seconds. Then the Clask kick in. And it is better than 10 hits of X. The car takes off. No black SUV can run up on a yellow beetle. The windows are sealed, douchebag. All this Clash is being sucked right into my brain. Up me nose… You wanna race me? ME?
I won
There is nothing better than Rock’n'Roll. Including Pussy. Keith understood this early. Burroughs never got this cuz he wuz a fag and thought smack was the answer….
Smack’s not bad. In most cases better than pussy. But it is nonetheless artificial.
The Clash and the Stones and Zep are Timeless.
Black and Blue Saturday…. mmmm…. I have nothing to say. the music speaks.
There are contemporaries. I don’t call the shots on them. what i mention I love. Lady Gaga. Rihanna. Lil Wayne. But I think these dudes and dudettes will last.
Them crooked Vultues.
Queens. It’s hard to say… the others. I watch SNL almost every week. These other bands are a waste of everybody’s time. Rock’n'Roll is dead.
The last bands were Metallica, The Red Hot Chili’s, Airwhatever…. it’s over. It will be interesting to see when the last rock’n'roll god dies.
They said release ‘Remote Control’
But we didn’t want it on the label
They said, “Fly to Amsterdam”
The people laughed but the press went mad
Ooh ooh ooh someone’s really smart
Ooh ooh ooh complete control, yeah that’s a laugh
On the last tour my mates couldn’t get in
I’d open up the back door but they’d get run out again
At every hotel we was met by the Law
Come for the party – come to make sure!
Ooh ooh ooh have we done something wrong?
Ooh ooh ooh complete control, even over this song
You’re my guitar hero
They said we’d be artistically free
When we signed that bit of paper
They meant we’ll make a lotsa mon-ee
An’ worry about it later
Ooh ooh ooh I’ll never understand
Ooh ooh ooh complete control – lemme see your other hand!
I don’t judge you.
So, why do you judge me?
Huh?
All over the news spread fast
They’re dirty, they’re filthy
They ain’t gonna last!
This is Joe public speakin’
I’m controlled in the body, controlled in the mind
This is punk rockers,
we’re controlled by the price of the hard drugs we must find
Freedom is control
Total
C-o-n control – that means yo
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April 28, 2010 at 3:19 am
Bunn Bunn
“There is nothing better than Rock’n’Roll. Including Pussy. Keith understood this early. Burroughs never got this cuz he wuz a fag and thought smack was the answer….”
That is so funny! Of course I’m in a great mood with the Lakers having crushed the Thunder pussies earlier this evening, but it would have been just as funny even if I were in a state of furry, no I mean fury (at, say… Congress pissing away an opportunity to perpetrate some more serious “Wall Street reform”), but in either case I still don’t know squat about heroin. It’s kinda like one of those scenarios when you tell some fuzzy that all religion is bad and especially his, and he says that you are taking the text of his tome out of context and speaking from a position of ignorance, and then I sez back to him, “Look, you walking C4 dildo (and I’m not talking about some horrible Lucas annimated sequel to a sequel), assuming the translation is accurate, I know how to read (as well as write) complete sentences and I don’t need to read the unabridged bullshit totality of it all to understand the clear meaning of what is said within the four corners of what I’m reading… know what I’m saying mister religious scholar? Actually, if you dudes just stay the hell out the lane that I’m driving in and continue to transport your hottest women to America, you’ll never hear from me again. But you might hear from my posse. Consider this a peace offering.”
JR, do you still do e-mail? Homey is old-fashioned that way and wants to know. Phone calls are awesome too, but super surreal it seems these days. Anymore, I think it’s easier to get someone to drop everything and pick you up at the airport than participate meaningfully in a telephone conversation. But honestly, for me, that’s not a problem!$!
Congratulations, Boston Celtics. I will eat my own excrement if you make it past the Cavs. (Actually, I do that everyday anyway, so the aforementioned purported wager might at best be viewed as illusory.)
I am in love with all of you!