Greetings simmbiosis sends
The open hand which he extends
Glad we can be
It's always good to have more friends

Monday, November 30, 2009

Do Not Read This!

Do not read this!

You’re still reading this. It very clearly states in the line above “Do not read this!” yet even though you have been very directly instructed not to read this, you continue to read this. Stop.

No, really, stop. Right now, right here, just stop reading. You’re still reading.

This warning is for your own protection. But you just continue, you’re reading right now, aren’t you? You’re thinking, “I’m not going to not read this because I was told not to…” Is it not informative that the things you are told to read you resist as well. If this was entitled "Read This!" you wouldn't have made it past the title, like as not. But defiance is clearly compelling. You were told not to read this but you’re still reading anyway.

Yep, just reading away.

You shouldn’t be, you were told not to. Right? It says “Do not read this” (emphasis added) very clearly on the top. If you don’t understand English (or whatever the hell people of the USA speak) you shouldn’t be reading this anyway, you can not understand the words typing out of my fingers.

And you’re still reading.

And you’re still reading.

The reason you were told not to read this is that it is pointless, there is nothing being said here. And yet, even though you were warned, repeatedly, that you would at best be disappointed, and you can see there is no real point to any of this, you continue reading. With the full knowledge, that at the end of this you’ll get nothing for your trouble. You might as well have read something that somebody wanted you to read.

Well, here it is.
Sevenly (The Magnificent 7) Blog

The following song Sevenly (The Magnificent 7) is my personal tribute to the genius that, thanks to the marvels of audio-visual recording was, is and will always be with us (if we maintain even a slight spark of intelligence) George Carlin. Be warned, all who read beyond (and those brave enough to listen) there is considerable adult material (funny how childish most adult material seems, eh?) in the words that follow. George, I suspect, wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Funny story: Got a call from Keith (I’m gonna include actual first names of participants, but change their personalities to protect their anonymity) bout 4 weekends back, but because my cell phone display was damaged in an emotional display, I didn’t realize I had missed his call until a bit after the fact – so I returned his call on the following Tuesday. He was active and suggested he’d call back which he did, Wednesday.

During our discourse he invited me to join him for an evening with John Cleese in LBC (top of the food chain I’m told). I, of course, wisely accepted (and hilarity ensued). Later that night when I telephonically recounted said invite to Robin the question of his age came up, (Cleese not Keith, who is a 27 year old longshoreman in Pomona, interesting because they have no shores in Pomona).

As one who is properly Wikied, no question of such a nature need go unanswered and I found on his Wikipedia page that John is 70 (and he confirmed it during our evening later). After Robin (who is a 47 year old acrobat and high wire walker – or high, wired walker, my notes are a bit scrambled) and I completed our call I continued on to Mr. Cleese whose page was still glowing before me, here in Studio C in lovely Northridge, lower middle of the food chain.

Turns out he did a recording as narrator on Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells II – you may recall Tubular Bells was part of the Exorcist soundtrack, ever so long ago. The fellow who did the original narration on the first album was Vivian Stanshall. Vivian headed a band called the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band in the 60s and early 70s. Fun stuff.

As one is prone to do when engaged in full Wiki, I clicked on Vivian’s link and refreshed my information in his regard – a strange and talented fellow indeed. I linked to the Bonzo’s, then to his partner in musical dada, Neil Innes. Neil you may recognize as Sir Robin’s number one minstrel in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. After clicking around Innes-land a bit I discovered he was a contestant in a music challenge called Song Fu, put on by View Askew, put on by Kevin Smith and Scott Mosier.

Song Fu is a ‘competition’ where participants are given a week to compose, record and present a song about a subject announced online. As this kinda thing seemed right up my alley I linked to Quick Stop Entertainment and to my surprise discovered that that very day the 5th Song Fu challenge had been announced and was accepting participants. Owing to the serendipity of my Wiki discovery I became two of them then bowed out as one to not deny someone else a spot.

Owing to Kevin Smith employing George in some of the last films he was in, and to Smith’s penchant for using the 7 Dirty Words ingrained into the zeitgeist by Mr. Carlin liberally in his film and other public discourse, I made a completely uneducated guess as to what the challenge would be – I guessed (aloud to others so it has been confirmed outside of this odd head) the challenge would be to write a song incorporating one or all of George’s 7DW. This before I did even the minimal research into the nature of the prior competitions. That’s just how nuts I am.

So my guess turned out to be wrong, the first challenge wasn’t to use one or more of the 7 dirty words, it was to write about one of 700 mole-men. I gave them Hydrostatic Charlie. Charlie was not loved. But unlike other competitions, Song Fu allows it’s losers to compete in subsequent rounds, (at least round 2) so I swallowed my pride (it comes in bottles now) and agreed to the second challenge: write a song about a number.

This struck me as uber-coincidental. Had I received Keith’s call directly I wouldn’t looked up Mr. Cleese’s age. Had I not looked up his age, I wouldn’t have followed the link through Mr. Stanshall, the Bonzos and of course Mr. Innes. Without the Innes link, I wouldn’t have heard of Song Fu. It was like everything I did unwittingly pushed me toward this contest.

Couple that with my guess that the competition would incorporate some factor of the 7 Dirty Words – write a song about one of 700 mole-men, write a song about a number. Cleese is 70, Carlin 71 when he pegged, I’ve got a numerologists wet dream on my hands. Better wipe that up, I’ll be right back.

Before I learned of the first challenge I began the groundwork for the song, made some notes, gathered my 7s. When the second challenge had a number attached to it, my course was clear – I would write the ultimate 7 Dirty Words song. But I realized there were many other 7 type opportunities. The challenge was then to myself, competition be darned (come on, I had to) – flog the paradigm until I couldn’t fit a 7 in there sideways. (There’s still room for more but to labor the point makes play into work, eh?)

I decided to combine the 7DW with the 7 Deadly Sins for the first verse then built a decent chorus. I started musically with the objective to compose everything in 7s – all drums, bass, guitar, and mallets are played in sequences of 7. By the time I had completed the lyric, I had 2 pages of 7s – it would be a long song. How long? 7 minutes.

But could that be enough? I had 7 days (about 77 hours) to complete it and send it off. I had structured the first verse around the 7s (all lines are either 7 words or 7 syllables in length – the first line of the main and second verses is split based upon rhyme structure).

But I still had to add or subtract the number of verses to make them 7s as well. At the end I added the horrible nursery rhyme thing at the beginning which brought me to 7 separate vocal parts (three of them chorus which changes every time). Though the nursery rhyme is 4 lines, the musical diversion is 7, so don’t bust my nuts.

For you consideration and with deepest respect for George Carlin I offer you:
Sevenly (The Magnificent 7)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
All good children are in hell
After what we done to heaven
You’ll agree it’s just as well
Do you lust
Do you disgust
Do you shit right where you eat
Are you a glutton
Pop a button
Do you piss up on your feet
Are you not greedy
Oh, yes indeedy
Do you fuck folks in the seat
Are you not lazy
So slothful, hazy
Are you a cunt that won’t compete
Are you wrathful
Have a bath full
Some cocksucker in concrete
Are you envious
Of some one’s penis
Motherfuckers manly meat
Does all your pride
Then reside
In your tits or your conceit
All will now hail the magnificent seven
Deadly sins - words you should not say
On Earth as it is in Heaven
Don’t let reason get in the way
Don’t let reason get in the way
Don’t let reason get in the way
Don’t let reason get in the way
Rolling a seven
Pouring one or two
Have them dwarves bring one to you
Seven gun salute
Wonders old and new
The seas and continents that they imbue
Seven day week
Daze in May too
Seven years war before d├ętente did renew
How bout Samurai
Doc Lao’s faces accrue
Solomon Brothers did collapse in a coup
Those laws of Noah
Mary’s joys few
Too bad the mirror looks like you
7 years bad luck looking at you (4 times)
All must now hail the magnificent seven
As busy before as it is today
On Earth as it is in Heaven
Never let reason get in the way
Never let reason get in the way
Never let reason get in the way
Never let reason get in the way
Got a 7 Up at the 7/11
On 7th street in the skids
Met a guy with seven wives
7 times that many kids
Educated liberal arts
Highly effective habits
7 pillars of wisdom
Lucky we fuck like rabbits
My 7 incher isn’t vinyl
The 7 mile ain’t what I rode
7 card stud not sofa spud
7 year itch I explode
7 card stud not sofa spud
7 year itch I explode
Aw won’t you hail the magnificent seven
Deadly sins - words you should not say
On Earth as it is in Heaven
Don’t let reason get in the way
Some one please hail the magnificent seven
As busy before as it is today
On Earth as it is in Heaven
Never let reason get in the way
Never let reason get in the way
Never let reason get in the way
Never let reason get in the way
Never let reason get in the way
Never let reason get in the way
Never let reason get in the way

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Disgust Discussed

What is it that makes you sick

Just what do you revile

Why is that you feel this way

It the stench is it the pile

Where do you find your respite

If for even just a while

How do you face your own mess

When you own it with a smile

Who is it that you’re kidding

Confused delusion is futile

Perhaps it’s time

Disgust’s discussed

Poison to one

Ain’t poison to all

Maybe it’s time

The unjust just adjust

Perverse amusements

Tend to appall

Natural pleasures sinful

Unnatural acts divine

Brutality a windfall

Aggression we enshrine

Disgust discussed dispensed

To those we so consign

To the wrong end of our rancor

On the wrong end of the line

Perhaps it’s time

Disgust’s discussed

Poison to one

Ain’t poison to all

Maybe it’s time

The unjust just adjust

Perverse amusements

Tend to the fall

Fatty skinny shorty giant

Dealer squealer feeler client

Helpless helpful self reliant

Strong will weak will be compliant

Poopy pants disgust

Everything must shit

Too much exposed bust

Each mammal has a tit

Genitalia bussed

Don’t you love your clit

Effective penis thrust

Pops off like a zit

Too tight to adjust

Lubricate with spit

Bio functions must

Intake as they emit

Nipples are offensive

Warfare just policy

Lionized in slaughter

What is vulgarity

Naked in aggression

The bullet sets you free

Live the paradigm

Embracing enmity

Die by lie, why deny

You’re just as dead you see

Perhaps it’s time

Disgust’s discussed

Poison to one

Ain’t poison to all

Maybe it’s time

The unjust just adjust

Perverse amusements

Bend to the fall

Stand on the wreck

Counting your cash

All hands on deck

Down with a splash

Hand out bad check

Tout market crash

Expanding dreck

Avoiding trash

Live in palatial squalor

Surrounded by the ruins you have made

In your coat and collar

Buffed up to conceal your inside decayed

Fiefdom of the dollar

Professions to keep everyone afraid

Disgusted by skin color

But not by the ignorance you’ve displayed

Repulsed by everything

Feeding on the wretches whom you’ve preyed

Revolting revolution

Injustice never denied or delayed

Insulting revolution

Injustice is never denied or delayed

Perhaps it’s time

Disgust’s discussed

Poison to one

Ain’t poison to all

Maybe it’s time

The unjust just adjust

Perverse amusements

End in the fall

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© 2009 simmbiosis

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Does Tinnitus Ring a Bell?

This ringing, it’s ringing and ringing
And ringing and ringing and ringing
It’s ringing and ringing
And ringing and ringing
This ringing it’s ringing – fucking noisy

I am a child of the city, a boy of the town, an adolescent of the country and perhaps a man of the world. Spun around on it enough to possess a marginal understanding of its process: it appears to twirl on its axis while revolving around a star (Sol) which spins around a huge hole in the middle of the galaxy. And the galaxy hurls through space with billions of like minded spinning things. In space, everything spins.

On Earth, everything rings. Are you gonna get that?

Allow me to explain…

By 8 years old I moved from the city (LBC boyee) to the town (Santa Rosa – Saint Rose, sounds like a wine). From the town my pater acquired land and on that land I had my first exposure to REALLY FUCKING LOUD noises in the form of gun fire. Started off with the fairly mild explosions of the 22 caliber long rifle and grew to shotguns and high powered rifles. Very loud, very ominous, very dangerous.

When you’re a kid, none of the things that torture you in later life exist. Part of being a kid is causing those things which torture you in later life. Like firing really FUCKING LOUD guns without ear protection. Really stupid. But when you’re a kid, if fortune smiles upon you, you can survive really stupid choices. If fortune frowns upon you, you still have the auditory impact, but people who for some reason don’t favor you are the ones firing the guns – and things louder still.

By teenage, I had progressed to handguns and rock and roll. Both REALLY FUCKING LOUD. Little compares to the sensation of standing in front of a stack of stage monitors, massive speakers with woofers you could live in and tweeters to scare the birds from the sky. At that distance you feel the music as much as hear it. And you REALLY hear it.

The delusion of youth creates a certain sense among the privileged of invincibility. I suspect part of that comes from being so spoiled that your perplexing life has so little meaning that your unsuccessful efforts to end it convince you you’ll be around forever. Part of that comes, I suppose, from the sense that you’ve already been around longer than you want.

In retrospect, a fairly disgusting perspective, especially with the subsequent understanding of the travails others not so blessed endure to maintain the shittiest of lives. We pay in our age for the arrogance of our youth.

It won’t give up, it wants me dead, God damn this noise inside my head…

“The Becoming” – Nine Inch Nails

So, I’ve got this, thing. It lives in my head, not so much my ears, but they’re what I grab when it gets so loud I think my head will explode. But it’s up inside there, like a walkie-talkie set on squelch, an electronicy, bacon cookingy, grindy kind of sound that seems to increase each day as the outside sounds go farther and farther away. It’s really quite maddening, sometimes excruciating. On occasion I cry like a little bitch.

This sound, this noise, then elicits external noise, offering solutions, tinctures and unguents and magical potions to alleviate it. Try zinc, cut out caffeine, drink, don’t drink, smoke, don’t smoke, hold your head under the sink. Certainly one of my favorites – mask the horrid drone with an external horrid drone. Double the drone, embrace white noise, mask everything in the hell of my head.

I play in these solutions: I cut out, I increase, I mask, I bury. I hide. But there’s no place to hide in your head, no safe shelter from your brain. No relief from the constant refrain, no silence for sonic pain.

At times it seems that one of the possible causes of this self imposed perpetual scream (gunfire) could be its only solution. But if such a place as Hell exists (externally) I already know what my eternity will sound like. So, as so many others, in much worse pain, I abide. I can still hear other stuff. I guess that’s enough.

Will somebody answer that?


Saturday, October 24, 2009

Well? Come to Lime Ricky.

Employing standard rhyming form
Create paradigm outside the norm

A fun simple way

To make what you say

Entertain, intrigue and inform

Some find puerile, some pooh pooh

This limerick thing that we do

Before you decry it

You might wanna try it

Cause we’d sure like to see some from you

.. ..

Join this endeavor if you would

As long as one thing’s understood

Don’t have to be cute

Or a fucking hoot

Just as long as the bastards are good

.. ..

.. ..

A grand time is had, this is true
Per verse busy tongues, me and you
What goes in what comes out
And off we do spout
It's not just with words that we screw

"Do not feed the bears" read the sign
At some German zoo near the ..Rhine..
An illiterate hog
Plunged into their bog
Upon her fat ass they did dine

.. ..

a bitch who overlooked the town pub....

approached a few bears for some grub....

they gave her a clawing....

and a little light pawing....

for acting like a wannabe cub....

.. ..

The crazy broad's head spun dizzily
Synapses all popped and fizzily
Snack for a bear
Who just didn't care
For a meal he knew would be grizzly

.. ..

cute, cuddly bears of the polar,....

one dumbest woman under solar....

get together for lunch ....

where she can't feel the crunch ....

of her fat ass caught in their molar....

.. ..

.. ..

So born so incredibly bare
Now a bear with lily white hair
Too close to the border
Buy polar disorder
Aphrodisiacs won't be found there

here's a rhyme to tell what i ate:....

'nuff pasta to fill a large plate!....

now very full....

my mind's in a lull....

and belly is mildly sedate.....

.. ..

.. ..

a lim'rick before i retire--....

the poet in me you inspire--....

okay, enough said!....

i'm going to bed....

lest i end in a rhyming quagmire.


tonight i made a grilled cheese....

but the end left me displeased....

you'd think i'd've learnt....

to not make it burnt....

and tasting like i had sneezed....

.. ..

Grilled cheese is usually hot
Excepting the grilling or not
I see no disaster
Little Schnozzblaster
It's either grilled cheese or it snot....