“What’s your Pleasure, Sir?”
– Merchant in the Bazaar of Baghdad
This Vulgar Display of Power is not for the faint of heart. If you like to play it safe, this is not for you. Return to your life of coloring inside the lines, and let the fear in your veins keep you from leaving the yard. What lurks beyond the threshold is not to be controlled, and once you have seen it you can never erase it from your mind. If you cling to your artificial importance, defined by your significance in a small, sterile cell, run now while your sacred tenets are still intact. What you will find here will threaten everything that gives you your identity.
Not all words can be safely written. Continue reading
‘In the drowsy dark cave of the mind dreams build their nest with fragments dropped from day’s caravan”
Friday Night in Los Angeles. I am in the back seat of someone’s car. Misfits on the radio. Now David Bowie. Too drunk to know where we are going and too stoned to care. Another night, indistinguishable from the week before or the week to come. I sip from my flask and look out at the lights of the 405, thinking about nothing in particular.
The song changes again. Murder City Devils and we are somewhere on or near Laurel Canyon. My flask is empty when we pull up to some place I cannot make out in the darkness. There are cars parked all along the way up to the house and there are small groups of people collected about the front yard. We park on a narrow patch of yard and someone turns up the radio. Is it Mojo Nixon? This night is fucking weird.
Every night is fucking weird. Continue reading