Y?

Corner of room's always quizzical. Little translucent spider lives by the question. He has no concept of what, say, my book is. I have no capacity for a fourth dimension. Where would I begin? Spider is not wondering. Corner is not answering.

Musburger's HELL3 Play-By-Play

crows, linked at wing

shuffle dip bobbed amid staging

still. then spun the direction of clocks

revealing, revealing a grinning Guy Fawkes

noise was had by one

and all


Happy Hallows and Hollows.

I Stand Six Feet Wide and One Foot Tall

I Was A Duke Last Halloween

Halloween 2005

"the MUSTACHES"

Halloween 2006

1920's black and white moviestars.

Halloween 2007.
"Remember, Remember, the 27th of October..."

at Kimball's Carnival. 522 2nd St. Oakland (Jack London Sq.)

Dirty South Church Mouth

I just bought and am delighted with the new "Church Mouth" by Portugal the Man. As you know, where there is blood, there is my camera...
this is my memory of John from Portugal in minor shock being led away from the fecal sinks in Atlanta's Masquerade to a more sterile Safeway bathroom.

Your links to photos of your injuries are invited to follow. (non-fatal, please)

More from The Wizard...

So, wanna know how I came to be bleeding over a garbage can (I mean -
for real, not some Shawn Harris fantasy of clobbering me with a rock)?

That photo is from the Matches' rehearsal room, a couple of years ago.
I was there doing pre-production with them, which means I listen to
them play a new song and criticize them until they cry (similar to the aforementioned slutty clothes tantrum).

We were done with the rehearsal, they were done playing a song for the
last time that day, and they roared into an impromptu ending of the
rehearsal with a really cheesy, psychedelic-sixties-blues-band-like
everyone play a chord really hard and loud and fast with Matt
whal(en)ing on his cymbals. A drumstick broke and the tip bounced off
the cymbal about three feet away to where I'm standing, nailing me
right above the eye.
As I begin spurting red from my forehead, the band makes these moves:
-Matt flies out of the room to find paper towels and bandages.
-Justin up-ends guitar cases to get to a bin with only slightly
disgusting rags (or rejected t-shirt samples? or shirts from opening
bands given the Matches and never worn?) and begins to administer first
aid.
-Jon grabs a garbage can upon my request so I'm not bleeding on carpet,
clothes, or instruments.
-and Shawn, upon quickly realizing I'm neither blinded nor seriously
injured, shouts: "Keep bleeding. I'll get my camera."

As Shawn and I both appreciate the photos we've taken over the years of
various band member injuries (usually it's been Shawn fountain-ing
blood and me taking the photo), I knew just what he was going for. (And
I knew there would be some bizarre use of the photo somewhere down the
line -- where we've now arrived.) So I moved Justin back, refused
Matt's towels, and started tapping my forehead leaning over the garbage
can to keep blood flowing until Shawn came back from the van with his
camera.

...Or maybe we should stick with the rochambeau story.

-Miles

The Wizard Must Be Stoned

Alright, so Wikipedia knew, "The next blog entry was a letter written by "The Wizard," Miles Hurwitz, who assisted in developing the album Decomposer. The second entry was meant as humor, but had gone over a few heads." but we were amused with the unforseen ensuing controversy and let it writhe uncorrected for a few days.
To determine which of us would get to post next, we played a game of rock, paper, scissors.
Rock beat scissors and right brow.

Never threaten a man on his own blog, even in jest.