Holy fucking

Fucking in a wheelchair, less to fight off.

HAHAHAHAHA. A Poem. I'm a POET. You're a poet.

Do you see that hole? I can't be like that.

Do you know about St. Henry?

We're going to have a bake sale to raise $300,000. It's time to learn God's Gospel.

What the fuck am I writing about? I'm the BEST beat writer. Bro.

This week I will ingest Dayquil, Nyquil, Rye whiskey, beer, cigarette smoke (1st and 2nd) and microwaveable diet food.

Liar's Club. I keep thinking of Liar's Club. Then it'll be the next show. If there's no next show I better break all my guitars.

Two more days

Fetor at Liar's Club. A chance to burn bridges in musical form while showing the size of my guitar dick.

Pre-MachineFest

The fest starts next Tuesday. We lost two venues in the last week. I've been drinking a lot of coffee and hoping not to hear anyone cry.

Do I even like this anymore? Some of the shows are fun and some of the people are fun and sometimes I have fun, but I can't remember the last time that happened. I can't remember the last time I had fun doing all this type of work. If I got high I would have a lot of fun.

It's no fun trying to work with 'revolutionaries'. It's no fun when you're sober. It's violent when you're drunk.

I talk to Kelsey and Mike and not many others. That's OK by me.

I don't talk about my experiences working on large scale festivals because they're not positive. The people that know me understand this. The people that don't ask for tickets.

This isn't funny.

Slowly turning Republican with each inhale of second-hand pot smoke.

Come on, kids

Scary is fun and all, but look at who is making the scary.

The new Manson video ends with his new gal pal, 19-year old, Ms. Wood and the Anti-Christ drive a car over a cliff. It's very dramatic. Then the screen fades to black. Even more dramatic. Then comes "INTERSCOPE 2007".

Scary.

It would be much more frightening if anyone cared.

Melting

I now live in Humboldt Park.

Wang Dang Doodle

3

Issue 3 comes out tomorrow. Party three days from now. The cat loves me because I give him tuna.

"I don't even knows if he's mines or nots."

But Iggy's fucking rich

Josh Grobin makes me happy I'm not rich. I bet rich people my age like him.

No Fun

Non-digital cable sucks.

It took almost 6-hours that I could read before I sleep rather than watch TV or listen to records. That's fucked up.

The Machine Issue 3 comes out Wednesday. Party on Saturday. Rock 'N Roll guitar every night.

The Machine site finally has a surplus of stories. It only took about two-years.

Doug is going to Oregon State. He was kind enough to give me his giant canvas. It now has a noose.

Saturday was Rage Against The Machine. Sunday was The Stooges. Monday did not have a reunion.

My mother is applying for a overnight shift at K-Mart. While I'm pleased that she's looking for work once again, I am disappointed that she is not able to use her college education. I'm not sure if my sadness is due to her or my socialization. Fuck it. Maybe she can steal some shit. Like Iggy. Iggy would steal shit. Iggy would steal shit and then fuck the manager. Then Iggy would spend a few years homeless in L.A. Maybe I shouldn't think of Iggy so much.

What Easter is really about

Nope.

I did this.

Groceries

I can't shake grocery stores. Everything about them. Everything they are to all people. I'm helpless. I can't figure it out. I'll write more in zine form.

I bought pizza rolls and shampoo.

If I don't stop this I'll never get anywhere

Rather than use the internet for good or evil I'm using it to waste time. Accidentally researching stories and finding out more about bands from Chicago I've never heard of. I guess I'm not cut out for writing. I get too envious of people.

The outlying suburbs seem like the Wild West.

buck oh five

Though I've been on a computer with an Internet connection every day I haven't had a desire to update this thing. Since my last update I have...

-discovered the joys of mp3 blogs
-went to a wedding in Iowa
-started a new zine about things I don't understand
-came up with what I think would be a worthwhile grant proposal
-painted a RobotJesus
-wasted days (if you add it up) on the bus

Some of my friends are doing amazing things. Some of them should be in prison. I'm somewhere in the middle. I will never write a song like "The Middle" by Jimmy Eat World.

Late nite, not night, but nite

Thank God for God. When it's past midnight and before 7am, I desire insane rhetoric aimed at God fearing souls. Did you know Jesus knew everything that was going to happen? Well, I just learned that. Thank you, WGN. You truly are the World's Greatest Network.

Holy shit, did I get fat. I don't wake up everyday and think I'm fat or care all that much, but my Widget has shown me the light. Photos from 2001. Photos of things I don't remember doing with people I no longer talk to. I have gained a substantial amount of weight.

Why is Dan calling me at 1:20am? Something about the band Traffic and choreographed moves.

There was a man in Mark chapter 5 that was possessed by demons and ran naked through a grave yard. Intellectuals are dumb like that guy. Girls are going wild. They went without underwear and spread their legs. God is going to hold you girls responsible. Jesus built my hot rod. All programs, infomercial, sitcom, news, etc., should have a guy that ties everything together. It sure makes the Bible a lot easier to understand.

I talked into a microphone, it stole my soul

Click the album art to go to the download page
or click here to get it on iTunes!

Fall of Autumn presents Brandon Wetherbee reading a piece entitled "The Ultimate Warrior was the Catalyst for the September 11th Attacks." Brandon has written over twenty issues of his perzine, Foul, contributed to Sanitary & Ship and is the co-editor of the Chicago publication, The Machine.

Everybody's fancy

We're running a little behind on issue 2. Everything will be done by Friday, but instead of taking advantage of the week off, nothing was accomplished. I've added notes to my stories but haven't put anything substantial on the screen.

Sidenote: I think there are werewolf noises on the Beck song "Nausea". There's definitly something.

Friday night was all about the corner of Lincoln and Irving. Kelsey used to live in Lincoln Square but we haven't spent an entire night in the neighborhood for a long time. We ate at Orange Garden, saw Paul's band at Silvie's (more about that later this week on the Machine site), drank a few beers with Mike at a decent bar that had $1 pints but an identity crisis (sports vs. dive vs. yuppie) and watched "Da Ali G" show at Mike's place about a bathroom fixture store.

That last paragraph is proof positive that I'm much too out-of-touch with whatever is cool. The following will also prove my case.

I spent Saturday with my mother in Indian Head Park. The visit wasn't nearly as depressing as it could have been. Her overall demeanor was better than usual and I was calm after finishing a Mr. Rogers book.

The evening was spent at the Brain, manning the door. I still smell like smoke. It was also the first night there in months that I didn't write a word. That's not a good sign.

I spent more than 75% of the day in bed (if you count a futon mattress on a floor a bed). I consumed fried food like a real man. I napped from 10-11pm like a real man. I'm up at 2:54am like a real man.

While updating the Machine myspace page I came across an ad that looked like a possible DJ opportunity. It was actually for a porn star signing in LA. The porn star is in works similiar to SuicideGirls, if SuicideGirls did actual porn. I did some more research and the correlation between major and indie porn isn't much different than major and indie music labels. I'm trying to find a Chicago spin on this thing because it's one of the most interesting media related stories I've stumbled across.

I'm spinning at least five times in February. I'd like to make increase that number to seven. I'm not sure why. I fucking hate this time of year.

Witty?

This should be more witty. I'm not so witty. I'm full of yogurt and orange juice at 3:01am.

Juicy Juice

Issue 2 is mostly written. A piece on Rogers Park by Eric Lab Rat. A column about the CTA by Emerson Dameron. A interview conducted by Arvo. Kelsey and I are working on pieces about the Loop preacher, the closing of the downtown Carson's, a one-on-one with a dominatrix (I hope this one is taken out of context), maybe the Alley, maybe a Captain Chicago comment and maybe another creepy photo essay. All of this would be done if I didn't drink so much orange juice and soaked in so much Maury.

Lie detectors lie. That may or may not be a lie.

Still in the running

"America's Next Top Model" proves that the females that want to be models on the series are wonderful wastes of life. Almost as big of a waste as that last sentence.

Get a blank piece of paper.

Stare at it.

Think of someone that has let you down, made you angry, filled you with hate.

Cry.

Let it out.

Bitch.

Clever.

Kelsey and I spun at the Brain for New Year's Eve. We had a good time with Emerson and Nell. The first three songs of 2007 were
Mr. Rogers "It's Such A Good Feeling"
Chamilionaire "Ridin'"
AC/DC "Highway to Hell"
The song that got the biggest reaction was Sam Cooke's "Dancing the Night Away".


To celebrate the new year full of Mr. Rogers, Eric and Sarah came over and we had deep fried pizza, Chicago cookies (see The Machine for more on that), candy bars, Oreo's, Chex mix and more. Everyone won/lost.

We just finished uploading issue 1 of The Machine.

Done.

58. Mark Leyner and Billy Goldberg "Why Do Men Have Nipples? Hundreds of Questions You'd Only Ask a Doctor After Your Third Martini"