I hope all my stolen bicycles
got ridden fast
and passed around often
had their best parts swapped out
and traded for drugs
that were used to write good songs
and have good young fun
like stealing bigger things
and crashing them into walls
and getting arrested on accident
and getting ratted out by a guy
who only days earlier
let you burn him with a cigarette lighter
because he said you were brothers for life.
I hope they found new homes
in abandoned warehouses
and darkened alleys
and were taken in by older men
who could no longer hold a license,
were running from something,
weren’t supposed to be here at all.
I hope those men took off on them
as far as they could get
before their old knees and old hearts gave in
and stranded them
some place they’d never been
and never thought they’d be
and they met someone there
at a store
on a dark road
who reminded them of a daughter
they hadn’t spoken to in some time
and they tried to call her
but the line was dead.
I hope the remains
were salvaged for scrap
by industrious someones
good with their hands
who saw promise in those old beasts
and roped them to a roof
and drove them through the rain
and into a converted garage
where they were stripped with gasoline
and fit with different pieces
from orphaned others
and made strangely better
spray painted a young child’s favorite color
and given as a gifts
from one person to another
the first gift they would ever get
that would teach them the value
of falling down
and getting back up again.
There was a point in my early teens
where I looked like a girl
and my girlfriend looked like a boy
and we would make out
on the bench in front of Taco Bell
inside the mall
on Friday nights
because there was no where else to make out
and this seemed natural then
like it does now
to dim the lights
and slip into comfortable shorts.
thought we were gay
and burned us with side glances
as they strolled to and from JCPenny’s.
Depending on the angles
and the shadows of the mall lighting
sometimes we were boy on boy
and sometimes girl on girl.
But split down the middle
we were out and out offensive
and well-worthy of under-the-breath cursing.
It is liberating
in a very natural way
to be accidentally damned to hell
in the minds of old southern strangers
just for being young and ugly.
The leaves have grown thick
atop the monuments
erected in memory
of horrible men
who amassed by horrible means
all of the wealth needed
to cement their legacies
We are pleased to present our 99th installment of Sound Advice featuring Dallas Clayton. Dallas is based in Los Angeles and is the creator of many cool things including two Awesome Books.
As much as I wanted my playlist to include a bunch of obscure punk, metal, offensive rap, and power violence I decided to settle on a playlist of songs that never fail to make me feel good while I am drawing kids books. Enjoy! –Dallas
Sound Advice 99
01. Whatever Never by Drug Cabin
02. Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes by Paul Simon
03. What’s in it For by Avi Buffalo
04. This Will Be Our Year by Zombies
05. Sunny by Bobby Hebb
06. Israelites by Desmond Dekker
07. Cherry by J.J. Cale
08. Dear Mister Fantasy by Traffic
09. Jump into the Fire by Harry Nilsson
10. Germ Free Adolescence by X Ray Spex
11. The Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen
12. Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers
13. You Don’t Mess Around With Jim by Jim Croce
14. For Once in my Life by Stevie Wonder
15. Second Hand News by Fleetwood Mac
16. The Best Ever Death Metal Band out of Denton by Mountain Goats
BONUS TRACK to get you up and moving and remind you that music doesn’t always have to be pretty to be pretty
17. Homewrecker by Converge
A friend told me
that a powerful exercise
is counting the steps as you walk (on a long journey)
and inhaling every twelve steps
then exhaling every twelve steps.
You are supposed to repeat this cycle twenty four times
and then (he says) things will become very clear.
I have tried this two days in a row
but have lost count each time
and started thinking about things like
“where can I get a good sandwhich” and “how come
that guy is pounding on the side of that bus.”
Friend and contributor, Dallas Clayton recently finished up his Awesome Tour.
Click here for some highlights
It doesn’t seem very hard
to start a cult.
Especially in todays fast paced world of constant connectivity
and easy access to vulnerable girls with troubled upbringings.
I think if most of my friends,
whose bands didn’t pan out
started taking night classes on motivational speaking
they could probably each lead a successful cult
within the decade.
Then they would have what most people want:
friends, power, adoration, a job they loved, a greater purpose.
And with a good accountant most of it could be a tax write off.
A cult is a very good money earner, especially if you are in on the ground floor.
The downsides: mass death, government intervention, having to live in the woods
I feel like each is an even trade.
Most people I know already hate the government, and have pretty good looking beards.
And death? well…nothing you can do there.
I witnessed a group of criminals
caught by the city
and forced to clean the streets
to paint the trunks of trees that had
been covered in graffiti.
For all the trouble
they had ever caused us
this was their restitution-
painting the trees.
Painting the trees?
How a bad idea starts:
“That looks easy…I could do that.”
How a good idea starts:
“That looks fun…I should do that.”
Kansas, and Colorado you still have a shot to catch Dallas on his book tour.
More info here
The man who sold me this stick
said it would protect my eyes from evil spirits.
He said evil spirits were everywhere and coming from all over
(dimensions, and planes, and even in through the vents).
He had no pictures of what the spirits would like
but insisted I would know it once they were close.
So far I’ve killed seven people with this stick.
Their spirits seemed evil enough at the time
I would hope to be
if I were an automobile.
I would be a Z converted into a Corvette, with a Bondo spoiler,
and flat grey patches.
But I would run fast,
and have a loose clutch, and not care when my oil was changed.
Yes, I would be fun to drive.
This empty pool
once offered respite
to a tyrannical leader,
and murderer of thousands.
Beneath the tension of cool blue surface
he held his breath
and practiced handstands
innocent as an eight year old boy.
Things left on the side of the road:
-Desk (missing leg)
Things claimed from the side of the road:
-Desk (missing leg)
If you ever get to visit the Playboy mansion
for a private party with high expectations
and you throw your lucky gold dollar
in the wishing well
on the sunken lawn
you might watch it drop to the bottom
with the rest of the change
for just a second
in your head
about whether or not
to wish for the health and happiness of all your friends
or for a wild orgy
in the grotto
with six or seven girls you don’t know.
Later that night
as you leave the mansion
wet from swimming in the grotto by yourself
and alone from the orgy that never happened
you will be happy (in spirit at least)
that you chose the wishing high road
and you will sleep better knowing
that your friends and family owe you one.
Though you don’t want to believe it
your father probably has pictures of himself
having sex with your mother
when they were your age.
And even though he is grown
and no one has come snooping
in many years
he still keeps them hidden
on a shelf
in a box
that no one would ever think to look inside.
Today I was on the phone with customer service at Cal National Bank.
They sent my checks to the wrong address,
and as it turns out they would have to close my account and open a new one as a security measure, rather than just canceling the checks.
I thought this was very funny and started laughing.
The customer service man told me it was no laughing matter.
I told him that I had just laughed at it, and by that measure alone it was indeed now a laughing matter.
He told me I needed to take things more seriously.
I told him I would take things more seriously but that he should know today is opposite day.
“Yes, opposite day. Check your calendar”
“There you go again, thinking everything is one big joke…” Then he transferred me to his supervisor.
Apparently Cal National Bank does not recognize opposite day.
The other day
someone drove by
out the window.
This is weird
because they used to yell
I am not sure
which is more
POOR RESOLUTIONS PART 1
-Attend hypnotism school
-Learn to hypnotize people
-Hypnotize teacher into giving me back the money I paid to learn to hypnotize
-Use hypnotism to trick people into thinking they are factory workers
-Buy factory (extra money left over from saving on hypnotism school + bad economy)
-Think of something to make
-Make it (Pick something easy)
-Use hypnotized factory workers to help with assembly, shipping, heavy lifting, etc.