Friday, April 30, 2004

I've been listening to the same song for about 90 minutes now, the same two minutes and twelve seconds on a constant loop. I can't even remember what other music sounds like now. As soon as I get home I'm going to crack open a tall cold one and listen to this whole damn record again. Hopefully. But so, I respect any band that would mention Eric Bloom in the same line as John Doe, Joe Strummer, and Dicky Hell.

Shit, there hasn't been much to say the past week or so. I was in Georgia last week, for Twilight, and it was great to get to see everybody again. Everything was a fuck-ton of fun, and I can't wait until we do it all again next April. Yes ma'am.

Hopefully I'll have something of interest up later on in the weekend. In the meantime, go take a gander at our friend Hillary's website.
Wednesday, April 28, 2004

So I'm sure most everyone has heard by know that after the new GBV record comes out that the dudes are calling it quits. I only hope that they do one last tour to go out right. I must say if you learn anything from GBV it's that you are never too old to rock it, have a good time and write damn good songs. I know the folks that write on M.E. have been into GBV longer than I have so maybe it is affecting them differently, but I have to say that everytime I saw them they put on a great show and never left me unsatisfied. My personal favorite memory is seeing them last year at the Variety Playhouse and about halfway through the set I went to chill out for a while and enjoy the show from the back in one of the empty rows. As I was sitting there they played my favorite song from Earthquake Glue "Useless Inventions." It was as close to a euphoric feeling that I have ever had seeing a band play a song live, truly amazing.
Since alot of you guys out there are GBV fans, I thought it might be cool to pay some respects by sharing some of the rad times you guys have had either listening to, playing, singing or seeing GBV. Great fucking band, you will not be forgotten.
We love you Bob!
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
  My 420 Gift

I awoke on Tuesday April 20, 2004 (fo-twenty - twenty o'-fo) with wide eyed wonderment. I dashed from my bed and slid on my Smokemon shirt. I was completely expecting to open my door to find a black hole chasm warp-zone to Smokesylvania. I would step through the portal and get transported to the NEW AND HIGH WORLD. I would arrive by a limo formed from smoke clouds, sipping Sweetwater 420 floating down on this nice cloud of smoke until i was gently placed upon the grass. This world was completely covered in grass, no dirt, no oaks, just grass. Everyone was gentle and liked to dance. The sun was high, so was the moon - sometimes they played cards together on a spaceship. Jerry didnt die, he took the warp zone, everyone. In case you are interested, he has put down the heroin and is solely smoking his own crop of the best scientific (or in these parts tokentific) weed known to man. It is called Jerry's Sukatash Stash and it makes your mind flip. He stays busy whittling drift wood and driving an ambulance. Every Friday night everyone in Smokeslylvania meets at the edge of night to see Bob Marley, the Grateful Dead, and Peter Tosh vamp out in a jam session which everyone calls the "Marijuana in the Air and Reefer in your Yawns, this Jam is Always a Nice Experience" or MARY JANE for short. Hemp is president and is always around to help the common person with a tricky knot or what have you. After each task everyone gets high, whether that is opening a door for someone or helping them mow, pick and cultivate their yard - you smoke. Everyone decided to make free love Tuesdays where the only thing you bring is your magic sac. Each neighborhood sits in a circle and passes a crystal, and when the crystal arrives in your lap - you open your magic sack, pull out your joint and start to pass it. There are usually about 30 joints going at once. Once the powerlove circle is out of smoke, everyone begins to make love to their "friends" as one member skips to the town fountain to pick up more bud.

As I pass through the township, I see my friend Ice exiting a study session on the history of the mind and how to use it to create freedom. He tells me about his morning on this the Independence Day of Smokesylvania - 4-20, he tells me he had been smoking for 40 hours straight getting ready for the day of the mind. As midnight struck on 4-20-04 he took one final puff, and then fell backwards onto a mattress of smoke he had woven. He had overdosed on the Buddha. The only man in existence ever to do so (notice I said man, Jackie O is the only woman). The ambulance pulled up and Jerry stepped out from behind the wheel. He walked over to Ice and touched the middle of his forehead and uttered these words, "My friend, wake your mind and toke some kind". Ice sat up and cried tears of friendship.

I woke expecting this, much to my surprise I found something else - not a caravan to a new land, but a passage to the past. Placed under a note that had a bong holding and pondering the earth, was a copy of Lynyrd Skynyrd's classic Street Survivors. Thank you Ice for being a friend.

"Ooh Ooh That Smell (of Sticky Icky Icky)"
Friday, April 16, 2004
  rapid response

alright now - I need one of you folks to tell me, in the next 90 minutes, why I shouldn't walk across that street at 2:30 and buy myself a motherfucking donut. Anyone, everyone. Speak up. I'll be here on the corner, waiting.
  athens needs to calm the fuck down

so shit, four athens bands play the greater boston area over the next week. you got your of montells, your elf powers, the power lions, i am the world trade center, thumb attack - what a veritable cavalcade of athenian superbity. but damn, who among us can afford such pleasures in such a concentrated spurt of time? next time through these folks should get together and coordinate. shit, the elf power and iatwtc/lions shows are the same damn night.

and of course every half-wit fool realizes all these groups shoulda just stayed home this week and get ready to play Twilight, the most astoundingly powerful and powerfully astounding rock saga of the year, every year, in perpetuity, stretching out into the cold unrelenting dark of the iinfinite...

Wednesday, April 14, 2004
  Moonlight Martians...tracklist revealed

Ok, so I finished the second in an ongoing series of Mezmerization Eclipse compilations last night. The comp is deffinitely rockin', so you won't hear any Reggay or house music on this bitch, but I think overall it's solid and makes for a good listen.

So as promised:

Track 1 - Mission of Burma - Dirt (off the new record, sounds rad)
Track 2 - Probot - Shake Your Blood (Lemmy and Dave Grohl, tight)
Track 3 - Misfits - Hybrid Moments (my favorite Misfits song)
Track 4 - Franz Ferdinand - Come on Home (Sony just paid these guys $3 mil for a 3 record deal)
Track 5 - Matt Medic - Clitoris Forrest (my friend Matt writes fucked up songs)
Track 6 - Thin Lizzy - Running Back (off of "Jailbreak," great album)
Track 7 - The Who - Happy Jack (a track off the Live at Leeds record, Kieth Moon rules)
Track 8 - Ted Leo and the Pharmacists - Stove by a Whale (an 8 minute Ted Leo rocker)
Track 9 - Stiff Little Fingers - Alternative Ulster (Ireland's answer to the Clash, vastly underrated)
Track 10 - Eagles of Death Metal - Kiss the Devil (it doesn't sound like the Eagles or Death Metal)
Track 11 - Mastodon - Where Strides the Behemoth (the kings of crunk metal)
Track 12 - Isis - False Light (these guys are awesome, "Oceanic" is an amazing record)
Track 13 - Matt Medic - Future Homosexual's first Tricycle (I think he wrote this when he worked with me at Toys R Us)
Track 14 - Dillinger Escape Plan w/ Mike Patton - Come to Daddy (an Aphex Twin cover, totally brutal)
Track 15 - Kyuss - Odyssey/Conan Troutman/No/Whitewater (these guys wrote a song about Whitewater)
Track 16 - Ice Cube - You Can't Fade Me (this was when Ice Cube was a pretty rad dude)

So as I am writing this, the computer I am on is having trouble playing the disc, Windows Media is a piece of shit. Hopefully, I won't have to edit it.

If anyone wants a copy, email me: egarstin@hotmail.com

I'm going to give a copy to DJ tonight, and I'll mail one to Dark and Chris tomorrow, feedback is mandatory.

  Awesome Dudes

So has anyone else realized this...
The lead singer of Loverboy is the "love child" of Bob Pollard and Master's master Phil Mickelson.
Some awesome dudes, man.
Tuesday, April 13, 2004

This Week: Darkness speaks with Muqtada Al-Sadr, the fiery Iraqi Shi'ite cleric recently dubbed "the most evil man in Iraq", and the leader of the Shi'ite insurgency in Iraq.

MESMERIZATION ECLIPSE: So, Mr. Al-Sadr, how does it feel to be the most evil man in Iraq?

AL-SADR: Well, before we jump into this, I just want to say hello, and thank you for having me on your weblog, Darkness.

ME: Thanks, it’s a pleasure, as always. Now, how does it feel to be so damn evil?

AL-SADR: Well I wouldn’t agree with the description evil.

ME: But you are killing us.

AL-SADR: Oh, of course, I’m killing your men daily.

ME: And that’s not evil?

AL-SADR: Well, Dark, really, what is evil? Who can say? Is killing someone evil? Maybe. Have my dudes been killing a lot? You bet. But does that make me evil? That’s for Allah to decide.

ME: But you are killing us. Every day. Why are you killing us?

AL-SADR: Because you are killing us.

ME: But we are killing you because we love you.

AL-SADR: And we appreciate your love. But before we can be loved, we must first love ourselves.

ME: So, do you miss Saddam?

AL-SADR: Of course not. He oppressed my people, had my father murdered, and refused to let us practice our religion.

ME: But what about the torture chambers, and the rape rooms?

AL-SADR: I am glad they are gone.

ME: If it weren’t for us they’d still be in operation. Your buddy Saddam would still be raping and torturing innocent Iraqi citizens.

AL-SADR: As I said, I am glad they are gone, and that that monster has been deposed.

ME: If you had your way, Mr. Al-Sadr, they would still be open.

AL-SADR: You are confused.

ME: Oh, see, this is what I hate about you liberals, when you start losing a debate you turn to smears and ad hominem attacks. You’re calling me confused? Point out one instance, one example, of where I am confused.

AL-SADR: I think the fact that you can’t different –

ME: Answer me!

AL-SADR: - iate between me and –

ME: Answer the question, Al-Sadr! When have I been confused?

AL-SADR: It should be obvious to you that you are –

ME: See, you can’t give me an example! Because you are lying! You are a liar!

AL-SADR: I don’t know how to respond to this.

ME: You can start by admitting that you’re a liar.

AL-SADR: Okay, whatever, call me a liar, I don’t care. I thought this website was supposed to be about music, anyway.

ME: Oh yeah. So what are you listening to down there in Sadr City?

AL-SADR: I caught the Pat McGhee Band the other night. They were good. I’m hoping to make it out to Bonnaroo in June, but that may be too close to when we’re supposed to take over the country and impose an Iranian-style theocracy on Iraq, so who knows if I can make it or not. And of course, most of the time, you can find me listening to Jerry and the Dead.

ME: You like the Grateful Dead?

AL-SADR: Of course! All Muslims do. He is one of the great prophets, one of the very best. Not as great as Mohammed, of course, but a little bit better than that Jesus guy.

ME: Wonderful. So in addition to being called "the most evil man in Iraq", People Magazine recently named you the most eligible bachelor in Iraq. Your thoughts?

AL-SADR: That's just wonderful. It really is. But truly, it was not a surprise.

ME: And why is that?

AL-SADR: Because all of the other eligible bachelors in Iraq have been killed by the Americans.

ME: Okay. That’s all the space we have here. Thanks a lot, Mr. Al-Sadr.

AL-SADR: You’re welcome. And thank you, America, for providing me and my like-minded colleagues with the opportunity to create another radical Islamic state in the Middle East. That’s just about the best gift a brother could get.
Monday, April 12, 2004
  Dare I PROFILE?!?!

So I just got back from a pretty exciting lunch.
I was waiting in line at my favorite ATL burrito place (pales in comparison to the mighty Barberitos, but decent for ATL) behind a fellow standing with a blond girl who seemed to be primped. It was a very long line today so I ended up waiting almost 5 minutes before getting to the counter. While waiting I began to take notice of this dude. He was tall, probably about 20 years old, and wearing a John Deer hat. As the wait continued, I began to read this here feller's shirt. He was in a fraternity...Kappa Alpha at that. Kappa Alpha is pretty well renown for being the racist frat on most campuses. For example, on UGA's campus, these were the dudes who hung the 30 foot rebel flag from their house on all game days and beat the shit out of a black police man when he tried to check in on a party. Anyways, they are pretty much 'necks.

HIS shirt was for a "date night" they had over the weekend of April 2-3-4th in Savannah, GA. It was called the MAGNOLIA BALL and seemed to be the highlight of the year based on this fancy shirt. It didnt say which college it was for on the back, so I waited for him to turn around and caught that he attended Furman University. Furman, a very respectable school academically, is a dry school in a dry county- therefore all fraternities must be off campus and I assume have all of their formals out of town. This guy looked like he loved to party and loved formals.

The best part of this whole encounter was printed across the bottom of his shirt - it said the following:

-Michael Bolton

Well, we all pretty much know that most Frat Boys are dumb fucks, but does this seal the deal?

I have absolutely changed my mind, I dont want to party with this dude anymore.
  sorry y'all's

Moonlight Martians was supposed to blowin' up the speakers today, but I was too busy crucifying Easter bunnies this weekend. Patience, it will soon arrive.
Thursday, April 08, 2004
  Mr. Cobain shreadin' from the afterlife (with dangling skin)

So yeah, today was the 10 year anniversary that they found the body of KurDt Cobain. Well we all know that bitch Courtney fuckin did it and is just now paying the mental price for killing GRUNGE! I mean what the fuck, what a bitch, right?

I wanted to post to let an embarrassing story out of the bag about my days as a sweet teen. I was 16 when Mr. Cobain died and my family had just bought its first real computer. I was getting to know how to use the new windows program, for the other computers I had used was all based out of Lotus 123. I had just learned how to change the font to Wingdings on the day HE died.

The night before they found his body my friend brad and I went to see Pavement for the first time over spring break. Pretty righteous show and still one of the best times I saw them. They even played Forklift. On the way home a drunk/asleep driver almost hit our car and send his '85 Bonneville flying off the road. It was an exciting night, we actually came home from the concert and listened to records until pretty late. The next morning his older sister who was pretty much the person who introduced us to all the good music (Pixies, Mudhoney, the Smiths, Pavement (when S&E dropped), the Breeders, 120 minutes in its hey-day, NME, etc.) called and woke us up LAUGHING her head off. "Your IDOL blew his damn head off, idiots" she cackled. We were shocked and turned on MTV and watched most of the day. I went home in mid afternoon and just sat in my room for a while listing to Nirvana. My dad called on the phone and told me to turn on 640 am WGST, that they were doing a special on him. I did so and their tribute was them playing Nirvana songs while playing gun blasts throughout the whole song. I was pissed, so i sat down at the computer and started to compose a Eulogy. I pulled out the old Wingdings and picked a happy face, a straight face, and a sad face to show the different sides of Kurt Cobain. Then wrote possibly the cheesiest page full of remembrances. I found this page from the mind of a brilliant 16 year old about 2 weeks ago hidden under my bed at home. I had written on the bottom..."NEVER THROW AWAY!" and put it in a box with a tape of their SNL performance and some 120 live stuff. I put the tape in and watched and got pretty excited to see that stuff again. The were not doing much innovative but they were a pretty damn awesome band. Anyways the letter was pretty embarrassing, but kinda funny at the same time and now that I look back at it I'm glad I wrote it.

"Nirvana really got it, they understood where to go with music and let the mainstream come to them. Kurt was troubled, but his music will live on. America has lost a wonderful son today."
-16 year old DJ
  now i know who i am

I took one of those internet quizzes, those quizzes that tell you who you are. This quiz tells you which episode of Night Court you are. I'm the episode where Dan Fielding is nursed back to health by an eskimo who calls him Dan Dan Fielding.


This is the most boring testimony to a congressional committee ever. I guess I'll wait for the kindly newsmen to tell me what to think.

Oh wait, here's Senator Kerrey. Maybe he'll pull a switchblade on her. Or vice versa.
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
  Hippity Hop Hop

It seems to me that Easter would be the best day of the year for a slammin' hip hop jam.

Hippity Hop Hop, easter bunny gon' make them panties drop.
Then all them bitch bunnies gon cry when the shells go pop.
  Tom Glavine likes to have his pussy licked

So I've got a little bit of free time on my hands tonight, so I thought I would step up and bring the second instalment in the ongoing series of Mezmerization Eclispse compilations. The much anticipated follow up to the extremely awesome Moonlight Men compilation will be christened Moonlight Martians. Look for a full tracklist tomorrow, and in you fucking hands by Monday.

Oh and lets not forget about Thursday night fuckers, when the mutha fuckin' Darkness brings it to the Tabernasty. Shit is gonna is gonna be so crunk they'll call Zig Billy Ocean. Ultimate Raging is mandatory for all involved. We are going to turn Robbie's house into a den of tailgate debauchery. Are you ready?
Monday, April 05, 2004
  Questions. I need answers.

Is a goatee ever necessairy or even appropriate? Wouldn't a real man just let the beard grow full faced, all higgledy-piggeldy, the way nature intended? And if this real man needed to clean up, say for a senatorial swearing in or a date at the state fair, wouldn't he be better off going with a nice mustache handlebarred up with some of that wax?
  fantasy baseball can make you hate yourself

Last night, while a surly (yet cute) Russian clown contorted balloons into a vaguely cat-like construct, I watched my beloved Sox lay down for the lowly Baltimore Orioles. The Sox may not be my favorite team (the dearly departed Seattle Pilots shall live forever in my heart), but for ages I have suffered with this team, exalting with their ecstatic highs, and reeling from their crushing lows. The pain of losing for so long is keenly felt by me and all my fellow long-suffering Red Sox fans. Yes, these last seven months have been a real drag. But despite the ever-present doom that has firmly attached itself, barnicle-like, to this beleaguered franchise, this year really does seem like it could be the year, and nobody is more excited about that than me. Except maybe those millions of Sox fans who gave a shit before last August. Who knows.

But so! While drinking and dining amidst the 28th birthday festivities of our fave local chum-house, my dear benighted and I watched the old ball-game. And despite my deep, abiding, reverent love for the hometown team, I found myself silently rooting for the Baltimore nine, and all because of that accursed game known as fantasy baseball (or, in the parlance of the addicted, "the devil's jai alai"). Baltimore's portly pitcher, Sir Sidney Ponson, is the number five starter on my money team, and a good year from him could be vital to my winning the diamond and sapphire encrusted spit-cup that is our ceremonial prize. And so, I wished failure upon the Sox. And failure is what they endured. In hopes of a few meager points, in some meaningless kid's game, I turned my back on the team I grew up loving over the last seven months.

I can't tell if this sharp, piercing pain in my groin is my conscience, or merely my kidney stones.
  you gotta stay sober at work

I received a big package in the mail last week from DOA; here are a few quick thoughts on this latest batch of promos.

Animal Collective – Sung Tongs: I’m sure these guys would probably annoy a lot of folks, since their songs rarely resemble, you know, songs, and they can occasionally get a bit too precious. But it doesn’t bother me when, in the song where they sing about cats, they all start meowing. I don’t know how they relate to what some people call “weird folk”, but Animal Collective seems to be working towards something similar, and I’ve found them to a bit better than some of the artists associated with that “scene”.

Les Savy Fav – Inches: Their singles compilation is better than any of their albums. And I like their albums.

Loscil – First Narrows: Haven’t given this a thorough listen yet, but it seems to be just about exactly what you’d expect from a Kranky release. Whoa, these drones are ambient. Some droning ambience here, babe. It’s like taking a bath, or something – a bath in the cosmos. And who takes baths anymore? Other than little kids and relaxing housewives. But from the ten minutes or so I’ve listened to it, Loscil seems alright. Definite Equinox material.

Jason Kahn and Jon Mueller – Papercuts: A couple of dudes try to pull a Matmos, making a record using nothing but sounds derived from paper. Unlike Matmos, they seem to make no attempt at melody or song structure or anything. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. I put this disc on at work the other day, and after about three minutes I had to get up and leave my work station. I left the record running. Ten minutes later I returned, and it sounded exactly like it did when I left. No discernible change or differentiation whatsoever.

Cheval De Frise – Fresques Sur Les Parois Secretes Du Crane: Free-jazz / rock fusion with drums and acoustic guitar, from France. I’ve listened to this a couple of times thus far, and it’s really quite great. Maybe the best record from a band I’d never heard of that I’ve yet to receive from DOA.

Eventually I’ll be writing full reviews for these things over at DOA. Also eventually I’ll really make a difference. Somehow.

01/01/2004 - 02/01/2004 / 02/01/2004 - 03/01/2004 / 03/01/2004 - 04/01/2004 / 04/01/2004 - 05/01/2004 / 05/01/2004 - 06/01/2004 / 06/01/2004 - 07/01/2004 / 07/01/2004 - 08/01/2004 / 08/01/2004 - 09/01/2004 / 09/01/2004 - 10/01/2004 / 10/01/2004 - 11/01/2004 / 11/01/2004 - 12/01/2004 / 12/01/2004 - 01/01/2005 / 01/01/2005 - 02/01/2005 / 02/01/2005 - 03/01/2005 / 03/01/2005 - 04/01/2005 / 04/01/2005 - 05/01/2005 / 05/01/2005 - 06/01/2005 / 06/01/2005 - 07/01/2005 / 07/01/2005 - 08/01/2005 / 08/01/2005 - 09/01/2005 / 09/01/2005 - 10/01/2005 / 10/01/2005 - 11/01/2005 / 11/01/2005 - 12/01/2005 / 12/01/2005 - 01/01/2006 / 01/01/2006 - 02/01/2006 / 02/01/2006 - 03/01/2006 / 03/01/2006 - 04/01/2006 / 04/01/2006 - 05/01/2006 / 05/01/2006 - 06/01/2006 / 06/01/2006 - 07/01/2006 / 07/01/2006 - 08/01/2006 / 08/01/2006 - 09/01/2006 / 09/01/2006 - 10/01/2006 / 10/01/2006 - 11/01/2006 / 11/01/2006 - 12/01/2006 / 12/01/2006 - 01/01/2007 / 01/01/2007 - 02/01/2007 / 02/01/2007 - 03/01/2007 / 03/01/2007 - 04/01/2007 / 04/01/2007 - 05/01/2007 / 05/01/2007 - 06/01/2007 / 06/01/2007 - 07/01/2007 / 07/01/2007 - 08/01/2007 / 08/01/2007 - 09/01/2007 / 09/01/2007 - 10/01/2007 / 10/01/2007 - 11/01/2007 / 11/01/2007 - 12/01/2007 / 12/01/2007 - 01/01/2008 / 01/01/2008 - 02/01/2008 / 02/01/2008 - 03/01/2008 / 03/01/2008 - 04/01/2008 / 04/01/2008 - 05/01/2008 / 05/01/2008 - 06/01/2008 / 06/01/2008 - 07/01/2008 / 07/01/2008 - 08/01/2008 / 08/01/2008 - 09/01/2008 / 09/01/2008 - 10/01/2008 / 10/01/2008 - 11/01/2008 / 11/01/2008 - 12/01/2008 / 12/01/2008 - 01/01/2009 / 01/01/2009 - 02/01/2009 / 02/01/2009 - 03/01/2009 / 03/01/2009 - 04/01/2009 / 04/01/2009 - 05/01/2009 / 05/01/2009 - 06/01/2009 / 06/01/2009 - 07/01/2009 / 07/01/2009 - 08/01/2009 / 08/01/2009 - 09/01/2009 / 09/01/2009 - 10/01/2009 / 10/01/2009 - 11/01/2009 / 11/01/2009 - 12/01/2009 / 12/01/2009 - 01/01/2010 / 01/01/2010 - 02/01/2010 / 02/01/2010 - 03/01/2010 / 03/01/2010 - 04/01/2010 / 04/01/2010 - 05/01/2010 / 05/01/2010 - 06/01/2010 / 06/01/2010 - 07/01/2010 / 07/01/2010 - 08/01/2010 / 08/01/2010 - 09/01/2010 / 09/01/2010 - 10/01/2010 / 10/01/2010 - 11/01/2010 / 11/01/2010 - 12/01/2010 / 12/01/2010 - 01/01/2011 / 01/01/2011 - 02/01/2011 / 02/01/2011 - 03/01/2011 / 03/01/2011 - 04/01/2011 / 04/01/2011 - 05/01/2011 / 05/01/2011 - 06/01/2011 / 06/01/2011 - 07/01/2011 / 07/01/2011 - 08/01/2011 / 08/01/2011 - 09/01/2011 / 09/01/2011 - 10/01/2011 / 12/01/2011 - 01/01/2012 / 01/01/2012 - 02/01/2012 / 02/01/2012 - 03/01/2012 / 02/01/2013 - 03/01/2013 / 12/01/2013 - 01/01/2014 /

Elliott is on AM 1690 the Voice of the Arts on Monday nights from 7-9PM for Radio Undefined
Crews is on WXDU on Tuesday mornings from ten to noon



Dark doesn't want to own her, but he can't let her have it both ways.

Cocaine Bref is proud of his island heritage & will riff with you.

Elliott is sufficiently breakfast.
PS3 ID: ATLbloodfeast

Crog works in the bullshit industry in Hollywood. He was born on May 7th, 1978.

Jerkwater Johnson (friend to CT Jake Motherfucker) lives in San Francisco. He likes snacking, and the Mets, and is the proprietor of a bar called Duck Camp.

some twitter things:
je suis france
still flyin'
reports (a band with dark in it)

some weblogs:
unrealized scripts
hillary brown
garrett martin
old man crews
microzaps kindercore
talking radio towers
corp. hq of the san antonio gunslingers
overundulating fever
big gray
unwelcome return
day jobs
maybe it's just me
captain scurvy
movies stella has not seen

je suis france
still flyin'


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