Thom Yorke on Wind Farms:

uptightmiddleclassnimbymonkeys

Me.. i think they're beautifulx

Thom





I feckin' love this man.

xxx

When will the good times cease..?

Do you wanna know the best bit?

THOSE WERE THE BAD BITS.


THE FUTURE IS FUCKIN' GLOWING BABY :D

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Feelin' a bit pissed off

Bleh ¬¬



Currently listenin' to the acoustic version of There There.

Is something special :)



Incidentally, I may have found some of the most intellignet lyrics ever in the least likely of places:



Admit it!

Despite your pseudo-bohemian appearance

And vaguely leftist doctrine of beliefs

You know nothing about art or sex

That you couldn’t read in any trendy New York underground fashion magazine

Prototypical non-conformist

You are a vacuous soldier of the thrift store Gestapo

You adhere to a set of standards and tastes

That appear to be determined by an unseen panel of hipster judges (bullshit)

Giving a thumbs up or thumbs down to incoming and outgoing trends and styles of music and art

Go analog baby, you’re so post-modern

You’re diving face forward into a antiquated path

It’s disgusting, its offensive, don’t stick your nose up at me



Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself?

Whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah

Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself?

Whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah



You spend your time sitting in circles with your friends

Pontificating to each other

Forever competing for that one moment of self-aggrandizing glory

In which you hog the intellectual spotlight

Holding dominion over the entire shallow pointless conversation

Oh, we’re not worthy

When you walk by a group of quote-unquote normal people

You chuckle to yourself patting yourself on the back as you scoff

It's the same superiority complex

Shared by the high school jocks who made your life a living hell

And makes you a slave to the competitive capitalist dogma

You spend every moment of your waking life bitching about



Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself?

Whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah

And I say yeah, what do you have to say for yourself?

Whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah



Cause I’m proud of my life and the things that I have done

Proud of myself and the loner I’ve become

You’re free to whine, it will not get you far

I do just fine, my car and my guitar

Proud of my life and the things that I have done

Proud of myself and the loner I’ve become



You’re free to whine, it will not get you far

I do just fine, my car and my guitar, yeah

Well let me tell you this, I am shamelessly self-involved

I spend hours in front of the mirror, making my hair elegantly disheveled

I worry about how this album will sell

Because I believe it will determine the amount of sex I will have in the future

I self medicate with drugs and alcohol to treat my extreme social anxiety



You are a faker (admit it)

You are a fraud (admit it)

Yeah, you’re living a lie (hey) living a lie (hey) you’re life is living a lie

You don’t impress me (admit it)

You don’t intimidate me (admit it)

Why don’t you bow down, get on the ground, walk this fucking plank (yeah!)



Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself?

Whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah

And I say yeah (what do you..)



Proud of my life and the things that I have done

Proud of myself and the loner I’ve become

You’re free to whine, it will not get you far

I do just fine, my car and my..

Guitar, guitar go!

I drift drift drift drift drift yeah

I drift drift drift drift drift oh yeah

And I am done with this

I wanna taste the breeze of every great city

My car and my guitar

My car and my guitar

So you'll come to be, made of these, urges unfulfilled



Oh no no no no no

When I'm dead I'll rest

When I'm dead I'll rest, lay still

Strange haikus on strange themes

GUITAR

Acoustic covers,

Where no acoustic was planned,

Is where it's at dawg.

******

Oh! For a twelve string!

But how to get hold of one?

Simple. Whore out friends.

******

INJOKES

Where to dump dead fish?

Well, surely into the sea?

But no! Sign says so.

******

What a bizzare dream!

We were discussing a boat,

Hilarity! Tree!

*****

'How are you?' so dull,

It's always the first thing said,

Ah! Of course! Current socks!

*****

Oriental shriek-

'One Million Dollar!' then,

Behold! Giggle fit.

*****

Oh! I like your beard,

It's reassuring yet soft,

Please don't ever shave.

*****

Thundering closer,

Look, there it is! The man van!

Huge testosterone.

*****

Now you listen here,

Heroin is just a laugh,

But don't get into spoons.

*****

I destroyed the moon!

Apocalypse ensued, yes,

But so, so worth it.

*****

There! Jacob! Quickly!

Must extend arm, point finger!

Ah.... bodysnatchers.

*****

Ah! Look! This one has,

A limited save function!

Aha, what a find.

*****

What is needed here,

Is one merged super PieMess,

What larks that would be!

******

God can't take a joke,

So much so in fact, that he,

Kills kids with she-bears.

******

Firefight! Get your guns!

But too late see we are doomed,

Uzis with live bears.

AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL

Drama! Politics!

Quick! Get the wine! Up the tree!

I'm not coming down.

******

Bangface was madness.

Sanity, serenity...

Went out the window.

*****

Walking to school - late!

When suddenly ah! A cat!

Looks like bear... pursue!

*****

Oomie was our cat.

Built like wall, monster of cat!

Got head stuck in glass.

MISC

Ah, silly haikus,

As addictive as crack and,

At least as deadly.

*****

No sleep in five days,

Becomes decidedly weird,

Not really that fun.

******

The sea... what to say?

Well it's a hellish deathtrap,

Viperfish are bad.

******

Oh god, Octopus...

Evil warped things shouldn't be!

They do NOT HAVE SOULS!

******

I really like trees.

Huge forests are amazing.

Merlin! Don't break that!

******

Radiohead win.

Seriously fucking win.

Win win win hell yeah.

*******

I have a gas mask.

It's awesome, but hard to breathe,

But is so worth it.

*******

Ack, ack! Meine augen!

Meine augen brennen! BRENNEN!

Kartoffel augen!

******

Magic mushroom tea...

Bad trip! Hide under duvet!

Oh no! Duvet bad!

*******

Breakcore! The only style,

In which can be found the proof,

That there is no God.

*******

Potatoes are nice,

But when they are all that you eat,

You fucking hate them

*******

Sleepy... sneak to bed,

Leave friends to entertain selves,

Sleep... but then BEDTRIS!

*******

Quiet, calm, still morning.

Crisp, cool breeze.... tranquility.

And then TARRASQUE!

*******

Plans! Plans to meet friends!

Ack! Arbitrary parents!

Bollocks. What a douche.

********

I miss my old hat!

Saturday by name... stolen!

Never retrieved! Gone! :(

*********

There is no such thing,

As problems that can't be helped,

By a cup of tea :)

*********

I got turned into,

A lizard... it was quite strange,

Then I wrote a song.

*********

Nicknames are funny.

Some people call me Kiepie,

Better than 'Wookie'.

My hangover haikus

I feel like a pig,

Has shat in my head today,

Should not drink so much.

******

I hope at least that,

Last night was worth hangover,

Oh! Can't remember.

******

Red wine and some beer,

Sleep deprivation as well,

This is fucking rough.

******

Ow ow ow ow ow,

Ow ow ow ow ow ow fuck,

I hate everything.

*******

Ah! A hangover!

This is a nasty one too!

Where is your God now?

*******

I should stop this now,

Everyone must know by now,

But fuck me this sucks.

********

Ug uh glu uh blurgh,

I think my liver hates me,

Gurgle gurgle choke.

********

My insides are dead,

Probably changed colour too,

To pestilent green.

*********

Newsflash! Shocking news!

I think I've broken myself,

But we all knew this.

**********

It feels kind of like,

I fucked my organs with fire,

Then punched them. With fire.

Just a little literary experiment :)

Okay, I want to give something I invented a shot :D

Word assosciation rhyming.

Is very interesting, see you don't rhyme with the actual word. You rhyme with a word that makes you think of the rhyme you want. Can be very flexible :)

I feel like a pig shat in my head,

It's not very pleasant and I may not survive it,

I suppose it's what happens if you indulge in excess,

Maybe I should in the future not indulge so much.

See, head is rhymed with dead which is what is implied by "I may not survive it" and excess is rhymed with less, as in not indulging so much ^^

...I still feel like a pig shat in my head though ¬¬

xxxxxx

A wee bit awesome

DJ FOOD - AGEING YOUNG REBEL

An Ageing Young Rebel

Called What's His Name

Wanted to be different while he stayed the same

But he couldn't he just couldn't

No matter what he would try

Told his mother

An aging old thing

You better go see Clever

You give Clever a ring

Which he did

Called him up

Just so Mommy wouldn't cry

Clever hear his story

About different and the same

You crazy?

This some silly game?

Oh no

Like Mommy said

I gotta straighten up my head

Clever is so clever

Is cleverness enough?

Can you help this ageing rebel?

Do you really have the stuff?

Bet you don't have

Bet the bread that you'll pass the buck instead

Clever sends our hero

To a funny darkened room

Where a crowd of Cunning listens

Giggles in the gloom

That's your problem aging rebel

Don't you really know the score?

You crazy?

Think your going to change this crazy world?

Better see your self a shrink

Cunningly they argue about our boy

Who's breaking down the door

Now he's running down the dark

Diabolical awaits

Grabs him by the ankle

Ain't it just like fate?

Diabolical laughs

In an alley full of soot

Forget the same you'll be different now

Somewhat shorter on one side

Let go!

Oh no...

Would you?

Diabolical inside?

Panic in his brain pulls and gets away

Loses him a foot

It's a dark and evil day...

See him, running limping blood

Something soft is just ahead

Something soft is Gentle

He's fallen at her side

She comforts him with kisses

He dreams of suicide...

Gentle is so gentle

Grabs the trouble by its root

Bandages his stump...

...Cuts off his other foot...

So you see...

It seems to me... a gentle kind of cruelty

Ageing rebel's older... a little wiser maybe too

Gentleness has fixed him

Does he look like me and you?

Footless and fancy free...

Think how happy Mom will be...

Footless and fancy free...

Think how happy Mom will be...

This is something a bit awesome (H)
xxxxxx

Mr. Goodbye I

Okay, so I might start putting my "The Walker" stories up here. These short stories are all about Mr. Daniel Goodbye, hence the name, who was renowned for having walked so long that he had learnt everything and now walked in a vast, metaphorical desert. The desert in question is full of monsters, each monster being a manifestation of something greater. The writing style is strange, so bear with me :)

Now in order to think clearly about Daniel Goodbye you have to think clearly on a great deal of very slippery subjects. See, Mr. Goodbye was a man who walked so long and so far that eventually he had learned everything to learn and had seen every flickering sunbeam that may dance on a matchstick.

Understandably, Mr. Goodbye became very tired with the things he saw every day once he had walked to every place on the real and firm world, but perhaps less understandably Mr. Goodbye for these reasons chose to leave the real and firm. Away from paved roads and things which had a form in flesh rather than thought did Mr. Goodbye walk, towards a desert which blurred the lines between thought and flesh and caused splintered hairline cracks to cripple-creep over the skin of understanding.

The sand in the desert was made of whispers, and the wind was a sigh of longing. Every plant was a blossom of a revelation and the stones were shaped of dreams. In this place did Mr. Goodbye walk and walk, seeking something he never knew he wanted, hoping to be surprised and never for a second longer than it'd take a beady-eyed grasshopper to tire of silence did he ever stop being amazed by the imagined dunes and the thoughtful daydream-snakes which sidled through the sand.

However, the desert has ever been a dangerous place to man or beast, though Mr. Goodbye barely fit in either such place. It was only to happen, as one thing does to another, that eventually the predator of the singing sands did trail our Daniel sir. Now, Mr. Goodbye delighted in the tones and murmurs of the singing sands and as such was loathe to leave them, and his confidence in his safety was such that were any similar person to him present they should call him arrogant, foolish or both. However, since no such was present we instead see only Mr. Goodbye smiling as he hears the wind swing the sands into cyclones, and each cyclone emit a song of beautiful sincerity.

Doubt! With it's runny egg eyes and it's plasticine hands it pads over the sand on it's splayed feet and jerks it's chicken legs in time to the singing sands. It was this monster which so hounded our Daniel, though it never drew closer than a stone's throw and it never dared more than a glance at it's prey.

The reason for all this and that was the nature of Doubt. Doubt, tall as a tree and wide as a grin, was a terrible creature indeed. It's shivering hide was streaked with dirt and blood, though it knew not where either had come from. It lived only to hunt those who did not hunt themselves, and it's quaking spine was arrayed with great flechettes and scalpels which rattled gently on each other as great Doubt quaked. The beast stalked and shuddered, all the time wringing it's plasticine hands. Now Mr. Goodbye was a lean and smooth skinned fellow, and his tied and knotted body could contain a certain amount of prowess, true... however, Doubt was a monster and no mere trifle, and Daniel could not hope to conventionally contend with the brute unless he wished to be shipped home wrapped in the letter of condolence which Doubt should surely write. Doubtless.

However, if a one thinks of a fight when a conflict is to occur, then a one is undoubtedly going to find such a fight. Mr. Goodbye was well aware that actual ability was of little or no import in a fighting dance when compared to all the thoughts which may snicker-snack flicker in a skull. As such, although Doubt's fifteen claws of porcelin fragments could easily become a prominent piece in Daniel's life (albeit briefly) there were still ways, means and the possibility for a more satisfying end to the tale.

Now, Doubt was a poor housekeeper to it's cluttered mind; it's thoughts were scattered and torn and it did not think clearly when it wished for lucidity. Furthermore was Doubt easily panicked and often fell into it's own nature when events arose. Mr. Goodbye knew the workings of Doubt as well as he knew his niece, as like all the best of us he had often been clutched by the same devil in his life. Though it must be said that to actually see such a feeling given flesh was quite a horror.

Daniel knew that Doubt was a superstitious creature and that it could only take those who already felt it. As such if Daniel showed no fear in the face of the quivering prescence of the being of Doubt then Doubt itself would begin to question it's actions. Mr. Goodbye would smile to himself at night even as he collected the whispers in the wind in his hands and allowed it to pool inbetween his open hands.

Thoughts are fluid, and as such did the whispers become a water in Mr. Goodbye's hands, dripping onto the singing sands as if his fingers wept words. After three days of collecting whispers did Daniel finally grin a Chesshire Cat smile, and pour the wet whispers into the sand. As with any liquid on sand did the whispers soften the sand into a clay or mud, and though it was made of whispers and daydreams it was still brick red and warm to the touch. With his fingers dug into the clay Mr. Goodbye closed his blinking eyes to the sun and made himself a mask (of sorts) by packing the clay into the creases and crooks of his features.

When every line on his face was unreadable through the mud, when every blink was hidden beneath the layers of clay did Mr. Goodbye know he was safe. With a plan in mind and in motion he waited for thirteen days until the full moon and the new moon were almost sharing the same sky. With these portents so easy to imagine it was inevitable that Doubt would imagine them as if truth, and it became increasingly shaken in it's resolve and nerves as the sun fled across the sky and dived into the horizon to make way. As the beady-eyed moon sailed blithely into the dark haze of the night sky did Doubt pad towards Mr. Goodbye only to find him seated calmly on the ground, his face coated in red clay (hiding his smile which was perhaps more smug than the situation demanded).

Doubt rattled it's knives nervously and it swivelled it's gas mask head from side to side as if a snake charming it's prey or an indecisive slowly shaking his head.

why have you stopped?

i should be chasing...

run, run! you're breaking patterns...

Doubt was shuddering out words inbetween it's breaths, and each syllable was a fear come true and an insecurity revealed. Mr. Goodbye sweat out every bead of doubt from his face, but his mask ensured that his weakness did not show to the insectile mass of Doubt before him.

There are no patterns. Why do you think there's a pattern? Please tell me what pattern there should be.

but i chase.

Do you? But what if you're being chased and have merely deluded yourself?

The great creature Doubt was ashiver with it's own curse, unable to see the fears of Mr. Goodbye beneath his fixed mask of clay. Without confirmation of the weakness of it's prey Doubt was powerless... it shuddered and shaked in confusion and indecision and bent double beneath the weight of it's affliction

i...

after all, you are still running.

Doubt's eyes flickered in the heavy gloom, it's resolve eroded second by second as if a pillar of salt being brushed by boiling waves. Beneath his mask Daniel grinned, for although the eyes of Doubt bored into him like a worm it could do nothing for fear of failure. Daniel rose slowly and watched as the towering Doubt flinched, it's runny egg eyes betraying it's fear, displaying how little confidence it really had.

you have no skin!

That's impossible. You must be wrong. And if you're wrong, how can you believe yourself in the future?

Doubt's eyes interlocked with bars of red and bloodshot prison grates. It's plasticine hands fell still in each other and it's serpentine barbed wire tail curled about it's feet as if to ward off the sibilant sands.

Maybe I should show you a piece of magic.

magic? there is no such thing.

Daniel had a type of magic indeed for the creature Doubt, though I regret to inform you that Mr. Goodbye's tricks are nothing impressive to the reader. Slipping his hand into a pocket he ran his fingers along cold metal and gripped.

Oh there most certainly is.

With a slight flourish Mr. Goodbye flicked his hand and with a snap and a grin he threw a flame into life to dance unsteadily inbetween his thumb and finger.

but... how?

Oh it's very simple really.

See, it's terribly hot here in the desert so the fire is all around. I'm just catching it.

I'm just catching the fire in the wind.

this is a lie...

Really? What makes you so sure?

you're holding a lighter...

So I am. What of it?

i can see it!

Mr. Goodbye slowly settled back into a seat on the sands and fixed Doubt with a steel rod glare. For a moment Doubt stood, quivering, and then Daniel softly spoke three words to issue the kiss of death on the creature Doubt.

Are you sure?

A second passed in silence and the shuddering pupils in the eyes of Doubt contracted. Doubt's form shuddered like a child in the cold wind of November and it's skin ran like rain on a window. With a frenzied shriek did the creature wheel and sprint away, running wherever it could hope to find certainty.

Which was nowhere.

And thus did Mr. Goodbye chase Doubt from view, and as with all monsters so faced it never did raise it's head once more.

Except for when talking to policemen and pretty girls.

____________________________________________

"How like an angel in apprehension,

How like a God in action!

Beauty of the world, paragon of animals!"

Well, that was actually quite good fun :D

Maybe I'll do more soon ^^

Don't worry, the rest of the tributes are on their way ;)

Much love!

xxxxxxxxxx

Extery III

Some half speed-poetry, some half free writing :D
Okay, here goes.



So here's nine tenths,
But where is the,
Missing section, the tenth,
Because that's the piece with a name.

Yggasdrill,
Yesterday's flowing into tommorow,
Got to get another,
Got to get another,
And we've got a finite slow,
Slow which trickles,
Deeply fickle,
Ringing some bells,
Inciting some stale,
Longing,
Longing.


Maybe just some free writing now...

I mean, poetry kinda failed.
Is crap, ja? (H)


So I've got fourteen shades of sundown sunset cinemas. As the fiery glow of the sinking sun, like a ship lost in the amber fire sea of the azure, burning horizon, so illuminates our eventual decline into what we once happened to call a depth of sanity.
At any rate, the importance is left in a folded coat with buttons and eyes and a smiling simmerlip. Watch it crack like cement under a thirteen ton atmosphere. Watch it break into a grin so cracked and wide that it stands alone from a face, so that it is like someone has stretched a grim mirthmouth over the air.

Trees are tall, great serpent-swirling roots of wood and moss, like a thought laced with potential. Just as the entangled roots are a network of snakes so too are the potentials like a thousand different winking eyes, ten thousand different voices which all groan the same word: "Here."

Here... the place which now begins in because this is where we are. Here which is impossible to locate but in which we never leave. Here which can be so long from where you want to be but is always where you want to be irrespective.

Stuttering out over the page is the rattling drone of fingers falling onto keys. Whispering out into life are the words so dripped onto paper. Green is life, and a forest with a cacophany of colour sitting just outside a door with a million shimmering beauties crisscross miraging into the single sigh of a single sight.
A flower.
A flower in a tree, like a beauty in a power, like the single word of poetry in a war chant... "To battle, to blood and honour and to a morning which is ours!" A selfish and barbaric cry of ownership, but a morning is beautiful. So like a morning with fire blossoming in a sky, so too a flower which aches so much for it's own sight that it quivers with beauty, shimmering and shivering as if the extent of it's colours were a winter.

So listen if you're asked a question; you can have a million answers and nobody needs to know what's right. Because we've got every hope and dream tucked into our arms.