Why Bother Reading That Thing?
Because it attempts to speak truth to hoary, fucked-out ideas. (More precisely, it vomits all over them by dint of its comparative reserve.) It repudiates the idée fixe, and seeks to slash the tendons of those who stand in queue to carry water for the dead. It doesn't give a fuck about its apparent hyper-marginalization. It gave up on everyone a long time ago, but it retains a memory of a willingness to be surprised. It splits its target 99.999% of the time, but refuses to gloat. Fools and slow learners clutter paths, but it is more nimble. It spills over all.
Then, uh, it sleeps until some other dreadful shit comes along, and out come the knives. It inadvertantly stabs itself. Being so lithe and gazelle-like and all, tissues are flung without heed. (It is happier, unafraid to express its joy.) Thus, it seeds another iteration of buffoons, generating the static it eventually must deign to repulse. Futility and fecundity in one perfect fucking package.
And because it knows that you know that it's parsecs beyond. (And because Tom Smith's father's fave composer is John Phillip Sousa, it wins, forever.)
Pregnant with inertia, drunk with indecision, the universe gives birth to time...
TLASILA Blog-Bot
Then, uh, it sleeps until some other dreadful shit comes along, and out come the knives. It inadvertantly stabs itself. Being so lithe and gazelle-like and all, tissues are flung without heed. (It is happier, unafraid to express its joy.) Thus, it seeds another iteration of buffoons, generating the static it eventually must deign to repulse. Futility and fecundity in one perfect fucking package.
And because it knows that you know that it's parsecs beyond. (And because Tom Smith's father's fave composer is John Phillip Sousa, it wins, forever.)
Pregnant with inertia, drunk with indecision, the universe gives birth to time...
TLASILA Blog-Bot
Comments
TLASILA Blog-Bot
Re disquiet: it's a given that occasional, ineffective attacks might be lobbed my way courtesy of Giffoni Nation militiamen (and unaffiliated irregulars - viz. Emil Hagstrom's woeful Blastitude rant from early '05), mainly 'cuz I pointed out ages ago that the emperor traipsed not only sans clothes, but sans cerebrum as well. (And I don't refer to CG personally, who obviously means well, etc. He's no Peter Braunstein... At least not yet!)
It seems only twits at the Voice, the Wire, et al., actually believe the supposed awesome life-changing power of this stuff... The rest of us know - deep, way deep inside - that it's the lamest, squarest, most enfeebled shit since Smog came weeping through the indie cred turnstiles... Wretched.
And yes, I know that the above-referenced rags have at times lauded TLASILA. I'm neither impressed nor suffused with thankfulness. Their words are rot; most "positive notices" are rubbish. At least with a loon of Emil's magnitude one has an opportunity to gawk at the rusted cogwork whirring within...
RIP Link Wray! Brother, you were a god and then some. Aside from all the early Raymen sides, you should rush out and nab his '73 Virgin LP Beans and Fatback - genuinely GREAT music! Saw he and Robert Gordon live in Atlanta around 1977. Gordon was merely recycling the Billy Riley catalogue, but Wray took Rob's routine encapsulations and sent them through the fucking ceiling. It was awesome to behold... (Sigh.)
Today, I'm listening to Tom T. Hall, a great songwriter whose words are firehose jets of sulphuric acid etching "FUCK OFF AND DIE" messages onto the lathe-cut grooves of a blunted generation of hippie-noise fucktards. It goes without saying that the universe can kiss my lovely, ever-so-taut, delightfully hairy arse.
And! I think people who are compelled to defend the indefensible are rilly great!!!
Additionally! I think they must think:! Why not hedge bets!! However! I pefer! Not to wager! On! That! Which! Is! Inherently! Ass-Fucked!
I just saw! Kylie Minogue's! P*ssy! As seen from a telephoto lens! And captured on film! (Or maybe it was!) (A digital camera!) Anyhow! A photographer! Maybe David Sylvian! Took a photograph! And it was developed! Perhaps later stolen! Or posted by the photographer! Out of spite! (Ultimately, who could know?!!) On a web site! And I saw it!
RQ2