September 29, 2006, 1:28 am.

M-Space minus the ads.

Me and Kassy busted the code. If you want to remove the banner ad from the top of your myspace, simply put the following code somewhere in your “about me!” or “Band Info!” area.

This is the code to remove the advertisement:

div { visibility: visible; } div table { visibility: visible; } div table td { visibility: hidden; } div table table td { visibility: visible; } div table table { visibility: visible; } div table table div { visibility: visible; } table td div div { visibility: visible; } div table { visibility: visible; } [[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[iframe]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] { visibility: hidden; }

If you’d rather replace the advertisement with your own 800x127px image, use this code:

div { visibility: visible; } div table { visibility: visible; } div table td { visibility: hidden; } div table table td { visibility: visible; } div table table { visibility: visible; } div table table div { visibility: visible; } table td div div { visibility: visible; } div table { visibility: visible; } [[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[iframe]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] { visibility: hidden; }

.adcover{background-color:white;position: absolute;left: 50%;top: 0px;margin-left: -400px;width: 800px;height: 127px;visibility:visible;overflow:auto;}


Implementing this code on your M-Space page will breach you user agreement, and may possibly result in the deletion of your account. On the bright side, there are over 50 million registered M-Space users, so you might stand a chance of going unnoticed.

September 28, 2006, 4:43 pm.


Scanning in old negatives is very exhausting, I’m tempted to import all of them, and that’s what I’ve been working towards, but I’ve got to accept that some of these photos aren’t worth the five minutes it takes to scan them, adjust the resolution, and correct the brightness. Only the good ones go up on the Flickr.

If my dad taught me one thing, it’s that storage is cheap, it will always be cheaper later, and you should never get rid of something because of storage issues. He meant this in terms of computers, of course, but I’ve found myself applying it to everything else. I own so many blank notebooks, for fear I’ll have an idea and nowhere to lay it down. I have duplicates upon duplicates of different versions of the same damn Kid Presentable song. I have a box that must weigh thirty pounds, filled with paper artifacts from the last five years of my life. I have two independent backups of everything on my computer, and update them weekly.

I wouldn’t say that with a self-deprecating edge, if I had more confidence in the idea that the things I produce are worth keeping. I have a consistent dream, that years from now I will look back and bathe in nostalgia as I look over my physical collection of memories. I have no faith in my own ability to remember the most beautiful things around me, and I’m more afraid than anything, that I’ll never know what I’ll lose.

September 24, 2006, 7:47 pm.

Back to work.

I’m trying to organize my plans for recording and releasing material, this is what I’ve come up with so far.

Release 01
Meat Machine - ALL OF IT (WIP)
In an attempt to reduce the amount of materials consumed in the sharing of music, and to give more “bang” for the “buck”, I will be releasing as many Meat Machine songs songs as I can on a single CD. The only exclusions will be the songs I can’t take seriously anymore, the ones that I still take too seriously, and the songs I’ll never write. What that leaves you with is as follows:

  1. Floodwaters
  2. Note to Self: More Letters
  3. Said Letters
  4. Recent Archeology
  5. Seeing Up
  6. Waste
  7. Indian Summer
  8. I Don’t Know
  9. We Will Ride
  10. Clear the Walls
  11. Birds & Bombs
  12. Stolen Laughter
  13. Tourbody
  14. Muscle Memory
  15. Big City
  16. & more!

Release 02
The Exterminatorrs - Appetite for Destruction!
A series of duets with the delightfull Brittney Bullock, recorded at Reznor Studios with Jon Flores.

  1. I Wish
  2. Decades
  3. Stay in Jersey
  4. Third Song
  5. Twenty Three

Release 03 (WIP)
Friend of Dinosaurs / Meat Machine - Dinosaur Meat
A split with my good friend Jeremy Northrup of Disarm! Disarm!.

September 23, 2006, 10:02 pm.

Video Rush

I am of the majority of Americans who do not regularly read the newspaper. I don’t currently own a television, and when there was one in my home, I didn’t use

I was going to write about how I’ve developed my personal politics, and how Bill Clinton rules, but then Molly invited me to a video chat. Like any face-to-face with someone you miss, it was exciting and awkward and strange and lovely. I’m still shaking, my body is shivering for no reason. I had actually started to forget how strong these feelings are, and she reminded me so easily. I want so badly to be close to her now, within 10 feet of her, it’s all I want. I tried to play ‘Muscle Memory” for her, but she said she couldn’t hear the words. I need to begin writing songs engineered to stream through computers.

September 15, 2006, 12:23 am.

Archy Declares War

This is currenty my favorite poem.
It was written by archy the cockroach.
I transcribed it from archy and mehitabel.
archy and mehitabel
was written by Don Marquis


archy declares war

i am going to start
a revolution
i saw a kitchen
worker killing
water bugs with poison
hunting pretty
little roaches
down to death
it set my blood to
i thought of all
the massacres and slaughter
of persecuted insects
at the hands of cruel humans
and i cried
aloud to heaven
and i knelt
on all six legs
and vowed a vow
of vengeance
i shall organize the insects
i shall drill them
i shall lead them
i shall fling a billion
times a billion billion
risen insects in an army
at the throats
of all you humans
unless you sign the papers
for a damn site better treatment
volunteers volunteers
hearken to my calling
fifty million flies
are wanted may the first
to die in marmalade
curses curses curses
on the cruel human race
does not the poor mosquito
lover her little offspring
that you swat against the wall
out of equatorial
swamps and fever jungles
come o mosquitos
a billion billion strong
and sting a billion baldheads
till they butt against each other
and break like egg shells
caterpillars locusts
grasshoppers gnats
vampire moths
black legged spiders
with red hearts of hell
centipedes and scorpions
little gingery ants
come come come
come you tarantulas
with fury in your feet
bloodsuckers wriggle
out of the bayous
ticks cooties hornets
give up your pleasures
all your little trivial
sunday school picnics
this is war
in earnest
and red revolution
come in a cloud
with a sun hiding miracle
of small deadly wings
swarm stab and bite
what we want is justice
curses curses curses
over land air and water
whirl in a million
sweeping and swaying
cyclonic dances
whirl high and swoop
down on the cities
like a comet bearing death
in the loop and flick
of its tail
little little creatures
out of all your billions
make great dragons
that lie along the sky
and war with the sunset
and eat up the moon
draw all the poison
from the evil stars
and spit it on the earth
remember every planet
pivots on an atom
and so you are stong
i swear by the great
horned toad of mithridates
i swear by the vision
of whiskered old pythagoras
that i am very angry
i am mad as hell
for i have seen a soapy
kitchen mechanic
murdering my brothers
slaying little roaches
pathetic in their innocence
damn her red elbows
damn her spotted apron
damn her steamy hair
damn her dull eyes
that look like a pair
of little pickled onions
curses curses curses
i even heard her praised
for undertaking murder
on her own volition
and called the only perfect
cook in the city
come come come
come in your billions
tiny small feet
and humming little wings
crawlers and creepers
wigglers and stingers
scratchers borers slitherers
little forked tongues
man is at your mercy
one sudden gesture
and all his empires perish
strike for freedom
curses on the species
that invented roach poison
curses on the stingy
beings that evolved
tight zinc covers
that you can t crawl under
for their garbage cans
come like a sandstorm
spewed from the mouth
of a great apocalyptic
desert making devil
come like the spray
sooty and fiery
snorted from the nostrils
of a sky eating ogre
let us have a little
direct action is the
sincere wish of

September 6, 2006, 9:33 pm.

Muscle Memory

This song is titled Muscle Memory. It’s a love song for physical exertion, sun-baked Northern California hills, grapefruits, and a girl back east.

Muscle Memory

There is salt on my skin, and there’s dirt on my feet, and there’s grapefruit drying on my fingernails. There is so much sugar still left on my lips, and I’m just trying my hardest to keep my hands busy. Your warm hand pressed between two of mine, I am finding the muscles, I am testing your digits. My nervous habits don’t work all alone so I’m finding new ways to satisfy.

Counting every kiss I would lay on your skin is math that doesn’t mean anything, anymore. I found a spot where the river runs deeper, it’s colder and clearer, and I wish you could be here. Sitting on a rock underneath the sharp, sharp sun. Let the water rise up and wash these feelings out of me.

Well it tasted like salt and it tasted like blood, it hurt like a tattoo I never wanted to fade, and I thought I would fight as hard as anything. And I’ve told myself that if I drown in music, or two wheels on asphalt that I’d still be happy, but I turned and listened, singing “things are bad, things are bad.”

Though the tone may seem disheartening and isolated, this song carries a celebratory feeling for me.

September 6, 2006, 9:21 pm.

Said Letters

This is a song I wrote, titled Said Letters. I wrote in within the first week I spent out here, when I was first hit by feelings of loneliness and longing for my friends and loved ones back East. It’s about my doubts concerning the transplant of my life from one coast to the other, it’s about the fact that I didn’t have to come out here, and that college is optional, and it’s about two of my best friends, and how they still inspire me from three-thousand miles away.

Said Letters

I just sold my car, and letters can only travel so far in what they say. I’m feeling so lonely out here, so why didn’t I stay?

These rules are made for breaking, I know it can be done. My best friend is making his life the only one that he could ever live in. I wish I was so strong, but I just fall to pieces, falling in a song!

And if I play my guitar any louder, then you won’t be able to hear my words, and if that stops us from crying then I guess it works. Behind these six strings there’s a body waiting to come home, and behind my letter’s there’s my words. I wish nobody ever had to go.

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