Now listen up and listen good…..

For as much as I desire contact…filthy,hot,sweating, get-ya-ass-owned-contact?

The thought of being untouchable is pretty fucking alluring.

Untouchable is a mix of Clint Eastwood, Slayer playing at the Warfield in San Fransisco on your birthday,A  1970 Dodge Challenger .385 Hemi and cooler than fuck.

I think that I hold it in such holy high regard because I have never been cool ,caught a whiff a few heady times and I can count on one hand when it has been kissing close but… High functioning retarded? Well that’s a given but cool?


Come a little closer honey and behold! Beneath this shimming miasma of  high octane energy,a  Frank Franzetta worthy stature , a cloying hot cloud of Bulgari Jasmine noir, body dysmorpia and a sedate manageable eating disorder is naught but a fat chick with moon crater acne, bi-focal glasses,braces and a stunning IQ. High school never ends baby and you  totally know I would have been writing your name on the knee of my jeans with glitter pen….

( you you you/ you temper my tender front lobe with a fuck fury fever/ and to the due south floods my molten desire and takes out all that stands in its path/ you do this to me/ liquid longing batters the deck and i am tied to your mast/ when we are we /this is what happens/your voice crawls sinuous soft on the wire and drips down knowingly into my softest core /home )

Untouchable is how I feel when the my hot pink Hello Kitty strap is ravenously chewing into my tender hide ,the taut skin where the shoulder meets the neck leaving a long bad tempered burn that will sting later in the shower when the soap kisses it, when I can feel my scalp sweating, the physical penance will be paid  in kind ,in full.

,Dug into the low end and hunkered down deep and sunk back dangerous like on my head-kicking higher than heaven heels. Cunt clenched and throat open wailing like a car alarm. I open my diamond cut kohl smudged peepers and there is Marcus across the room with his eyes on fire and that smile. There’s Mal and Nate locked tighter than the gates of San Quentin and we don’t stop.

I can’t stop.

That is untouchable.

I want to be where I can at least tolerate myself and the only place that happens to be at this point in the proceedings without me holding up a 7-11 is surrounded by my amazing compradres. My Brothers.

( or in my imagination with you )

Electricity makes me high, speaks in current,ohm and static tongues, true religion, gets me wet.

( and in dreams /where you claim me/ yours )

I think the one real reassurance in my life is that I get it wrong more than I get it right.

I got it muy wrong last night due to my chronic insomnia. Lack of sleep is the cruelest thing the gods bestow upon me outside of an extra set of hips. Have had about 9 hours sleep in total over the last week and last night I had to play a show. It ended up being more like an AA meeting.

( “A dumpster fire of ad-hock therapy! ” I wrote to you after the fact and when you laughed, Wayne Campbell’s mythical Winged Monkeys took flight from my butt…)

My fingers forgot that they have had a long running relationship with the fretboard and I stopped a few songs stuttering my so-sorry’s half way through.

Just went blank .I forgot my own songs as well. Mortifying.

If you can’t trust your own corpse to do what you want I would say that you are pretty much up shit creek sans paddle .I can hear the dueling banjos now…

My brain is on vacation with no pay in a war zone armed with little more than a sling-shot, migraine inducing counterfeit ray-bans, a half empty bottle of amyl nitrate and a song in it’s dippy heart. Frag grenades of exhaustion explode on the petulant perimeter and a body bag would be four star bliss at this point in the proceedings.

I want the reprieve.I crave it.

( i-you/ want-crave/ i-you )

My brain is gonna end up treading on a landmine and then .. *ka-BLOOEY!* .

Now can you see what I was saying about not cool?

Back behind my bass in a few hours. It will be so good to see my boys.With the condition that my condition is in all I can do is hope that the feeling is mutual. At this point? I’m little more than a car-crash with great tits.

Maybe if I was really -truly untouchable I would then become desirable? Is that how it works?  I tried to peel myself with a linoleum knife once. Hallucinogenic drugs and blades do not mix,take note kids….  All that I desire usually tends to settle for sub par or does not know that I exist…all my super cool female friends are so damn feline and try as I may ? And Elvis only knows, I have tried, I just can’t keep it up.

.( “Sandy?@!$#?…”Tell me about it….stud” )

Admit it! The song just started playing on your internal I-pod.

Me? Aw fuck it ,let’s just call a spade a shovel and be done with it. I am not ashamed. I love my tail! Iggy Pop wrote one of his best and sexiest tracks in ode to the condition, complete with a devastating descending bass line that gets my pink bits in a panic and sleigh bells…….


I am canine. My super amazing girlfriends? Feline. They are inside sitting in the window haughty and disdainful getting their every whim catered to while I am in the back yard rolling in my own poop waiting for someone to throw me the ball…

( loyal / i would stop a bullet for you baby/ if you /believe me/ believe in me /  ride or die  / got so much love and its all yours…)

How far is too far? Never far enough for me. I don’t edit,I can’t.It’s not in my wiring and the next moment could be your last so I want you to know, I just want you to know…. (“What?!”) ….


I don’t just let anyone hold my tail….