make your own show

I made my own show out of the 3:

Morrissey

Paul Weller

Antony and the Johnsons

Bob Mould Band

Girl Talk

Amy Winehouse/Leonard Cohen

The Kills

Sebastien Tellier

Junior Boys

TV on the Radio

X

Black Keys

Brian Jonestown Massacre

Throbbing Gristle

No Age

My Bloody Valentine

The Cure
Blitzen Trapper

Beirut

Franz Ferdinand

Thievery Corp.

Mstrkrft

happy birthday mr. burns

TO A MOUSE
ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOUGH
NOVEMBER, 1785

EE, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
Oh, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I was be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion
An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
And never miss't!

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I cannot see,
I guess an' fear!

bay area exhales

SAY GOODBYE To Bush
What: Score 50 percent off Brazilian, bikini, and eyebrow waxing at Lisa Bradbury Skincare Salon.
Why: Should make for a smooth transition.
When: Thru Jan. 31.
Where: 1756 Fillmore St., at Sutter St. (415-441-7470).

the stranglers

this is why i can never get over the 80s. dont let anyone tell you it was about bon jovi.this would be a good song for the old deathbed. i'll have to write that down.

pablo neruda

Keeping Quiet
Pablo Neruda
(trans. Alastair Reid)

And now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.
For once on the face of the earth
let's not speak in any language,
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines,
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victory with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about, I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing, perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead and later proves to be alive.
Now I'll count up to twelve,
and you keep quiet and I will go.

walk this way

helen verhoven

fred sandback

Something is very gently,

invisibly, silently,

pulling at me-a thread

or net of threads

finer than cobweb and as

elastic. I haven't tried

the strength of it. No barbed hook

pierced and tore me. Was it

not long ago this thread

began to draw me? Or

way back? Was I

born with its knot about my

neck, a bridle? Not fear

but a stirring

of wonder makes me

catch my breath when I feel

the tug of it when I thought

it had loosened itself and gone.

--Denise Levertov

assassins...lynette squeaky fromme

Fromme was born in Santa Monica, California, to Helen Benziger Fromme, a homemaker, and William Millar Fromme, an aeronautical engineer. In 1963, the family moved to Redondo Beach, a suburb of Los Angeles, and Fromme began drinking and taking drugs. Her grades in high school dropped, but she managed to graduate with her in 1966. She moved out of her parents' house for a few months before her father convinced her to consider El Camino Junior College. Her attendance there only lasted about two months, however, before an argument with her father rendered her homeless. In 1967, Fromme went to Venice beach, suffering from depression. Charles Manson, who had been recently released from federal prison at Terminal Island near Long Beach, saw her and struck up a conversation with her. Fromme found Manson's philosophies and attitudes appealing, and the two became friends, travelling together and with other young people such as Mary Brunner and Susan Atkins. She lived in southern California at Spahn Ranch, and in the desert near Death Valley. After Manson and some of his followers were arrested for committing what would become known as the Tate-LaBianca murders in 1969, Fromme and the remaining "Manson family" camped outside of the trial. When Manson and his fellow defendants, Patricia Krenwinkel, Leslie Van Houten and Atkins carved Xs into their foreheads, so did Fromme and her compatriots. They proclaimed Manson's innocence and preached his apocalyptic philosophy to the news media, as well as to anyone else who would listen. She was never charged with involvement in the murders, but was convicted of attempting to prevent Manson's imprisoned followers from testifying, as well as contempt of court when she herself refused to testify. She was given short jail sentences for both offenses. On the morning of September 5, 1975, Fromme went to Sacramento's Capitol Park (reportedly to plead with President Gerald Ford about the plight of the California redwoods) dressed in a nun-like red robe and armed with a .45 Colt automatic pistol, that she pointed at Ford. The pistol's magazine was loaded with four rounds, but none were in the firing chamber. She was immediately restrained by Secret Service agents, and while she was being further restrained and handcuffed, managed to say a few sentences to the on-scene cameras, emphasizing that the gun did not "go off. Fromme subsequently told The Sacramento Bee that she had deliberately ejected the cartridge in her weapon's chamber before leaving home that morning, and investigators later found a .45 ACP cartridge in her bathroom.

not everybody likes licorice but people who like licorice, really like licorice

Never Mind the Buzzcocks

Noel Fielding...no idea who he is but I must do my research what a doll

Yeah--spent the whole day watching Buzzcocks on YewTube. Bodes well for the new year, dunnit. In love with Simon A. of course.