A One Act Play
We are in the steam room of a downtown gym. LARGE BEEFY TATTOOED MAN (LBTM) and SCRAWNY SMART ASS BLOGGER SECURE WITH THE SIZE OF HIS PENIS (SSABSWTSOHP) are relaxing in silence after a long work out as the sound of steam emits an hypnotic hissing into the tiny room. Because these characters do not know each other, neither one says a word to the other.
After a beat, the door to the steam room opens and in walks HILLBILLY SPORTING A PONYTAIL WHILE ALSO WEARING BIKINI UNDERWEAR WHICH FITS A LITTLE TOO SNUG FOR ANYONE'S COMFORT LEVEL (HSAPWAWBUWFALTSFACL). He sits down between LBTM and SSABSWTSOHP.
All the characters sit in silence for a minute or two as steam fills the room.
(HSAPWAWBUWFALTSFACL changes his position so he is now lying down.)
HSAPWAWBUWFALTSFACL: (Gives a loud sigh.)
All the characters sit in silence for another moment.
HSAPWAWBUWFALTSFACL: The shit don't stop until your casket drops!
LBTM and SSABSWTSOHP sit in silence, unsure whether or not to comment on HSAPWAWBUWFALTSFACL's outburst.
Another moment passes in silence.
SSABSWTSOHP stands up and quickly moves to the showers.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
Captain Sad and His Ship of Fools (The Cowsills)
Sparkle and Fade (Everclear)
5000 Spirits (The Incredible String Band)
Rosemary Lane (Bert Jansch)
Architecture & Morality (OMD)
Sunday Street (Dave Van Ronk)
Candles in the Rain (Melanie)
Slow Flux (Steppenwolf)
Listen to the Warm (Rod McKuen)
Three Imaginary Boys (The Cure)
Even a Gray Day (Tom Paxton)
Spiritual Machines (Our Lady Peace)
Whales & Nightingales (Judy Collins)
Vermin in Ermine (Marc Almond)
Scream Dream (Ted Nugent)
Children of the Future (Steve Miller Band)
Ssssh (Ten Years After)
Purple on Time (US Maple)
Moon and Mind (Oregon)
Flying in a Blue Dream (Joe Satriani)
The Kick Inside (Kate Bush)
A Kiss in the Dreamhouse (Siouxsie and the Banshees)
Blue Bell Knoll (Cocteau Twins)
Filigree & Shadow (This Mortal Coil)
The Burden of Mules (The Wolfgang Press)
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Sun Araw would be akin to the frequent conversations I end up having with the spiritually-leaning alternative rock show promoter who attends the same gym as me. "I balance rocks on top of one another when I'm meditating in the desert," he proclaims proudly. "It keeps me connected to the earth's energy." The only energy you're plugged into, I contemplate replying, is the Electric Brainwave of Retardville, you Guatemalan-vest-wearing dipshit. If he ever wrote a song as powerful as
Horse Steppin', I'd be inclined to agree with his quasi-religious mumbo jumbo. Create a tune as mesmerizing as this and you can pile 8 tons of boulders on your fucking hairy-ass nuts, for all I care. But no, I have to endure his Tibet-styled bowing-to-the-sun-lion yoga poses right before he retires to his art studio where he whips up pretentious sculptures of sci-fi goddesses and oddly homoerotic male torsos. It leaves me asking myself, Who Would Jesus Shun?