sábado, 20 de agosto de 2011

The Apocalypse in 9/8

Peter Gabriel dressed as the Magog

With the guards of Magog, swarming around,
The Pied Piper takes his children underground.
Dragons coming out of the sea,
Shimmering silver head of wisdom looking at me.
He brings down the fire from the skies,
You can tell he's doing well by the look in human eyes.
Better not compromise.
It won't be easy.

I still hate zealots. I hate looking for flats. More on that later. It's too frustrating to get into right now. Suffice it to say that this crazy woman basically needed this place rented for August. I was here two weeks and now she says her daughters are coming in Sept. and i have to be out by Sept 1. Fucking bitch. I will never live with another South American / Latin American person again. The one's i've met here have no education and no heart. They treat people like animals. The fucking inconvenience this whoor has caused me. I'm just sick of it all. So - i'm looking again. Just breathe, just breathe.


My new favorite show is Wilfred on FX. It's so over-the-top funny. Weeds is great too, as are the new Futurama episodes. All hail the Space Pope!

Speaking of the Pope, it's hotter than a sauna in Hell today. I'll meet Maria in Sol at 21:00, after it cools down a bit.

SO is there any good news? Yes. Mom, Mel and Janet are going to look into coming to Europe after Xmas. That'll be nice. I've never gone this long without seeing my family.

Also, i have begun the arduous process of re-editing Buying New Soul, my latest. It's a wee bit short, i think, so i'll try and beef it up a bit. When it's done i'll send it out to all of you. It's 87,206 words, and the minimum is usually 55,000. So it's kind of there. Probably about 100,000 would be perfect. Anyone who publishes it will probably cut the crap out of it anyway. Never ending editing.

666 is no longer alone,
He's getting out the marrow in your back bone,
And the seven trumpets blowing sweet rock and roll,
Gonna blow right down inside your soul.
Pythagoras with the looking glass reflects the full moon,
In blood, he's writing the lyrics of a hip brand new tune.

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