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tencio
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Name: Brandon
Country: United States
State: New Mexico
Metro: Albuquerque
Birthday: 12/24/1984
Gender: Male
Interests: face!, rock n' roll, rap n' roll, lick n' roll, limpbizkit (judge me), kottonmouth kings and the subnoize tribe, the end of history, books about some crazy shit, psychedlic insanity, love.
Expertise: facing. i paint, i write, i'm in a band (The Isness).
Occupation: Other
Industry: Other
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  lililoki
Member Since:
6/23/2005
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| 73. to do...
"is creativity dead?" i ask myself again. my throat's very scratchy, but my book's staying closed. sometimes i wonder who the hell i'm screaming at. i don't wonder for long, tho, cuz there can only be one answer. pakelika says: "i live for me, not you, them, him, or her." and of course it's true for all of us. and of course my dried out brushes beg to differ, but i'm sure i have my reasons.
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beeps
creep out of
all of us. sink
into new neurosises
supplemented by cellular
division and cellular
phones. phony cells,
walless. | | |
| 72. boogeyboogeyoogey ooooh
a new tattoo's so fragile and it stings. i'm on edge all day making sure it stays moist and safe. i feel hungover from the painkillers and the half sleep (i had to stay in positions that wouldn't fuck it up, you know...). i can't understand why people would willingly abuse prescription painkillers. they make me feel disconnected and dead inside. but i guess a lot of people like that more than being themselves. anyway, tattoos are fun. worst entry ever. come see the Isness tonight! | | |
| 71. blagh
there's a taste stuck on my tongue. i know it's dangerous but i keep coming back for more. frenemies are stirring the cauldron, cyanide and sticky syrup, sweet but sickening. it seeps deep; us whores want more. i'm loading this bowl to chase away the demons like deacons and dummies addicted to their savior. (hold on to anything real!) inside, the seed needs sunlight, and i'm all caked with dark technicolor residue.
fear, a chosen limbo.
sulfur in the air, but our noses stay packed with coke crushed from our kids' dreams. by the time the smell gets through to our brain, we'll be too fat and horny to build ourselves a rehab center. patterns are emerging and all i can think about is butter.
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the Isness in January:
1/5 @ Ralli's
1/10 @ Ralli's
1/12 TBD
1/19 @ Golden West
1/26 @ Ralli's
More information will be coming out of my face, but if you give a rat's ass you oughta check out http://myspace.com/theisness because this is only sort of the place for this sort of thing. | | |
| 70. stop rhyming i mean it
distractions are all i know
without sugar the time is slow
factions are starting to show
but theres nothing to make me grow
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the Isness, tonight, 9:30 PM at Ralli's (4th and Central) 21+ | | |
| 69. subject to change
you have to keep thinking long after you've become transparent. glass eyes are windows to the brain factory where pieces of soul are sent to burn. between words, the spaces start to shimmer and reflect to bring the color back to these irises. die today, won't you? it's the only way to truly live because a wise man knows you can't escape. try as you may you can't beat eternity. and the spaces start to look like things, furry little animals, memories you don't yet have a past for. the spaces are bright, don't stick to the words. at first i thought it was only the electric glimmer of the monitor, but these notebook pages are telling me the same thing. all these words are encroaching, entrapping, envoloping me. let's ignore it all together and live the dreams and daymares we've made for eachother.
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the Isness will be playing this wednesday evening, the 14th, at Ralli's on 4th and central. more details to come.
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gloomy gargantuan metal shells
seal off sorcery.
enchantment wanes,
the gates
with oiled hinges
welcome wandering retirees
with
very
little to do
and
very
much to spend.
send regrets in a
self addressed stamped envelope
to john lennon's other kids. | | |
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