This blog gives a unactual place to post what happens in our heads and selves now that the gadgets and teknology of misinformation have proliferated and diversified to the extent that nothing is real. in our smellphone drivethru starbux cineplex download clusterfuck finacial meltdown invade the mideast gps chip implant satellite superspy world noone smells the coffee or looks in your eyes when you buy a micowave burrito at 7-11.
SEND A POST TO rvehill@yahoo.com and ATTACH A jpg or gif IF you want pertaining to the theme and i'll post it as long as i can. maybe even if i can't. i am an actual convicted criminal.
WHERE HAVE ALL THE PUNK ROCK STARS GONE?!?! Ronald McDonald
Book review:
made me laugh out loud despite he gravity of the subject; cold war and post cold war US military/intelligence hegemony and violation of our personal freedom. Yeah it's a espionage thriller comedy, hilarious but deadly serious.
Here's a synopsis;A drunken late-night promenade through a former CIA Director's living room makes young Joe Retard a suspect in an international intrigue involving a high-tech spy toilet seat. The U.S. military chases Joe to the ends of the earth in an effort to keep a lid on their toilet seat.
Without giving it away Joe is entangled in comedy and intrigue which kind seems a weird amalgamation of the Wrong Man and Dr. Strangelove, on the East Coast and all over Asia with nods to the Opera Salome. Sound confusing? It wasn't. North crafted the plot very skillfully and it reads smooth. I finished it in 48 hours leaving work undone to get to the next good part and the next and the next. The ending had an unexpected emotional punch too. i got it at enlightened-pyramid.com
Frederik Husar at work>
Drag City recording artist AZITA has a new release, How Will You? She SINGS with a voice filled with raw firelight over a spare arrangement of piano bass and drums.Azita @ Drag City! performing Thursday, March 12;
Bloomington, IN Buskirk-Chumley Theatre (with Bonny Billy)
from Ignacio Balangatang's novella Ratboy:
Finally, as both Jive and Dirk
crescendo-ed into a frenzy, Margie faced Jive, removed her top, and tossed it over the drum kit onto Jive's head, where it remained draped. Bare back to the audience, Margie broke back into New Year's Eve's distinctive bassline. Dirk jumped back up on stage and approached the mike, although for dramatic effect he refrained from picking up the lyrics for several measures, during which time Margie remained with her back towards the audience, much to Jive's obvious delight. As Dirk did his best rendition of U-2 singer Bono's screem leading back into the lyrics, Margie turned around and the place erupted. It was a powerful part of a legitamately moving song anyway, but the particular events that transpired during the song created a rock star kind of excitement that the band had never yet experienced.
Nor would they ever again. For this particular evening, two bigwigs from Disney's Musical Operations Division were in the house to check up on how Loni was managing the night club, and were obviously displeased at "activities detrimental to Disney's family- oriented reputation." Battery Club's 15 minutes of fame were to last only 20 seconds. Suddenly, the power to the amps, the P.A. system, even the stage lights were cut. Jive, thinking it was simply a technical problem, kept up the beat with his drums until the D.J. finally cut in with the dance version of "Who Let the Dogs Out".
Dirk, however, immediately knew that there had been no mistake. He looked up and saw Loni heading towards him with Chris Mokihana, the club's burly, surly bouncer. While Dirk was a tae kwando blackbelt and more than able to defend himself with bare hands and bare feet, he did not want to tangle with Chris Mokihana in close quarters in the nude with both the management and the law on Chris' side. Dirk put down his guitar and looked around for his clothes. Jeepers! With the stage lights off, there was no way he could find them before Chris Mokihana closed in on him. He jumped off the stage and instinctively ran to the table at which just 45 minutes ago he had been conversing with Kim-Marie and the others. Ethyl, and especially Blanche, glared at Dirk as he approached, while Kim-Marie sat with her face buried in her hands and her hands buried in Roger's shoulder. However, Roger's eyes were a more than adequate surrogate window to Kim-Marie's soul, and Dirk realized that his lover felt more than just shocked and disappointed, but even betrayed.
Dirk could only pause for an instant, for Chris Mokihana was within ten feet of him. Dirk knew that there was no hope of making it through the front door, so bolted off towards the kitchen, in the hope that the back door was unlocked. As luck had it, the cook had left he door wide open in an effort to keep the kitchen from overheating. Dirk bounded out the door with the bouncer in hot pursuit. The fleet-footed guitarist ran in a counter-clockwise semi-circle around the building, widening the gap with his bulky pursuer. As soon as he reached the front of the building a group of teen age girls screemed with ammused surprise and pointed at him. Fading into the crowd was not an option, not without any clothes, at least, and Dirk turned heel and raced down Kuhio Avenue. However, the streaking caucacian attracted far too much attention on the well-lit main drag, and Dirk decided to cast his luck with
a dash down a side street towards the beach. If nothing else, the surf might hide his nakedness until things calmed down.
However, wouldn't you know it, there were two uniformed police officers sitting in a patrol car eating microwave burritos that they had just acquired from the local seven-eleven, and when they spotted Dirk they threw their car into gear and raced after him.
From Arnie Saiki of Honolulu and Smellay CA. re; R Vehill's novel Hawaii Punk avaialable at Amazon and http://www.enlightened-pyramid.com
"Raoul is a hero! He gets to speak out and tell his version of the Hawaii-everyman-archetype. His indelible vision for posterity is much better than the gum stains on the sidewalk in front of Queen Theater which was proof enough of my own existence. Now, here we have the chronicle that at long last reveals everything that the everyman has been running away from: attempted suicide, visions of family members chasing us with murderous intent, unrequited love with prostitutes and heavenly delirium in stink urinals."
SEND A POST TO rvehill@yahoo.com and ATTACH A jpg or gif IF you want pertaining to the theme and i'll post it as long as i can. maybe even if i can't. i am an actual convicted criminal.
WHERE HAVE ALL THE PUNK ROCK STARS GONE?!?! Ronald McDonald
Book review:
Operation Patriotic Toilet Seat
made me laugh out loud despite he gravity of the subject; cold war and post cold war US military/intelligence hegemony and violation of our personal freedom. Yeah it's a espionage thriller comedy, hilarious but deadly serious.
Here's a synopsis;A drunken late-night promenade through a former CIA Director's living room makes young Joe Retard a suspect in an international intrigue involving a high-tech spy toilet seat. The U.S. military chases Joe to the ends of the earth in an effort to keep a lid on their toilet seat.
Without giving it away Joe is entangled in comedy and intrigue which kind seems a weird amalgamation of the Wrong Man and Dr. Strangelove, on the East Coast and all over Asia with nods to the Opera Salome. Sound confusing? It wasn't. North crafted the plot very skillfully and it reads smooth. I finished it in 48 hours leaving work undone to get to the next good part and the next and the next. The ending had an unexpected emotional punch too. i got it at enlightened-pyramid.com
Frederik Husar at work>
Drag City recording artist AZITA has a new release, How Will You? She SINGS with a voice filled with raw firelight over a spare arrangement of piano bass and drums.Azita @ Drag City! performing Thursday, March 12;Bloomington, IN Buskirk-Chumley Theatre (with Bonny Billy)
from Ignacio Balangatang's novella Ratboy:
Finally, as both Jive and Dirk
crescendo-ed into a frenzy, Margie faced Jive, removed her top, and tossed it over the drum kit onto Jive's head, where it remained draped. Bare back to the audience, Margie broke back into New Year's Eve's distinctive bassline. Dirk jumped back up on stage and approached the mike, although for dramatic effect he refrained from picking up the lyrics for several measures, during which time Margie remained with her back towards the audience, much to Jive's obvious delight. As Dirk did his best rendition of U-2 singer Bono's screem leading back into the lyrics, Margie turned around and the place erupted. It was a powerful part of a legitamately moving song anyway, but the particular events that transpired during the song created a rock star kind of excitement that the band had never yet experienced.
Nor would they ever again. For this particular evening, two bigwigs from Disney's Musical Operations Division were in the house to check up on how Loni was managing the night club, and were obviously displeased at "activities detrimental to Disney's family- oriented reputation." Battery Club's 15 minutes of fame were to last only 20 seconds. Suddenly, the power to the amps, the P.A. system, even the stage lights were cut. Jive, thinking it was simply a technical problem, kept up the beat with his drums until the D.J. finally cut in with the dance version of "Who Let the Dogs Out".
Dirk, however, immediately knew that there had been no mistake. He looked up and saw Loni heading towards him with Chris Mokihana, the club's burly, surly bouncer. While Dirk was a tae kwando blackbelt and more than able to defend himself with bare hands and bare feet, he did not want to tangle with Chris Mokihana in close quarters in the nude with both the management and the law on Chris' side. Dirk put down his guitar and looked around for his clothes. Jeepers! With the stage lights off, there was no way he could find them before Chris Mokihana closed in on him. He jumped off the stage and instinctively ran to the table at which just 45 minutes ago he had been conversing with Kim-Marie and the others. Ethyl, and especially Blanche, glared at Dirk as he approached, while Kim-Marie sat with her face buried in her hands and her hands buried in Roger's shoulder. However, Roger's eyes were a more than adequate surrogate window to Kim-Marie's soul, and Dirk realized that his lover felt more than just shocked and disappointed, but even betrayed.
Dirk could only pause for an instant, for Chris Mokihana was within ten feet of him. Dirk knew that there was no hope of making it through the front door, so bolted off towards the kitchen, in the hope that the back door was unlocked. As luck had it, the cook had left he door wide open in an effort to keep the kitchen from overheating. Dirk bounded out the door with the bouncer in hot pursuit. The fleet-footed guitarist ran in a counter-clockwise semi-circle around the building, widening the gap with his bulky pursuer. As soon as he reached the front of the building a group of teen age girls screemed with ammused surprise and pointed at him. Fading into the crowd was not an option, not without any clothes, at least, and Dirk turned heel and raced down Kuhio Avenue. However, the streaking caucacian attracted far too much attention on the well-lit main drag, and Dirk decided to cast his luck with
a dash down a side street towards the beach. If nothing else, the surf might hide his nakedness until things calmed down.
However, wouldn't you know it, there were two uniformed police officers sitting in a patrol car eating microwave burritos that they had just acquired from the local seven-eleven, and when they spotted Dirk they threw their car into gear and raced after him.
From Arnie Saiki of Honolulu and Smellay CA. re; R Vehill's novel Hawaii Punk avaialable at Amazon and http://www.enlightened-pyramid.com
"Raoul is a hero! He gets to speak out and tell his version of the Hawaii-everyman-archetype. His indelible vision for posterity is much better than the gum stains on the sidewalk in front of Queen Theater which was proof enough of my own existence. Now, here we have the chronicle that at long last reveals everything that the everyman has been running away from: attempted suicide, visions of family members chasing us with murderous intent, unrequited love with prostitutes and heavenly delirium in stink urinals."
i selected a moment when the world was jerking, a stop, a hitch, a bump in the road. as the crowd swooned forward for that mobile instant, i pinched the nipple hard between my thumb and forefinger.
ReplyDeleteat first soft and pliant, i ballooned into a swollen tootsie roll beneath the pressed cotton print shirt. she gasped audibly and wanted to drop her bag of sundries and clutch her breast, but the bus lunged forward, sending the momentum backwards, and her ass splashed against me like a big wet wave on a bone bleached beach.
my sensing member parked between her sit down spot, which gripped it in a spasm, and then the bus again slowed quickly disengaging from my little surprise.
i love public transportation. you meet so many people. i could ride the bus all day if i didnt have class to teach.
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This is very new and exciting!
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ken46co@hotmail.com - Is there anybody out there? Is there anybody out there? Just nod if yu can hear me, is there anybody home? My blog will be posted soon and you are fuckin either a felon, an ex-con or out of a halfway house or on parole or maybe even an ankle bracelet - Mexican Jewelry.
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