Who said Kiefer... I know its only rock'n'roll hair,
















but,

I like it...

Yes I do

  ¶ 1:41 AM

  A view from the Embassy Roof

I apologize for not posting more regularly. The outrageous fortunes of your humble narrator have taken a decidedly animated turn.

Clearly, my views on the state of rock’and’or’roll have clearly offended some.

I fought the law and I won. I fought the law..

Yet, I will not recant my position.

I know its only rock and roll…
But I like it.
Yes I do.

For those about to rock,
We salute you.

Dear Ole Blighty…

God save the queen,
we mean it man…

And all that bollocks. Here's to growing old and pissing it all away at the end of the day when we drink to the good old days in the same bar where our great friendship/adventure started.  ¶ 2:14 AM

  I only have twelve steps to go...

Apparently , there are only twelve steps to sobriety.

My favorite are the two that I always trip on going up the stairs to the bed that I will, hopefully, pass out on.

28 days and 13 Grand. I like those odds.

brilliant


who invited a Deluise to the party?  ¶ 6:12 AM

  I am so going to be late for my script conference today

You know you are in trouble when:

a) you look like this and you are not Christopher Hitchens or have his budget for scotch...

b) The copy of A Christmas Carol you were supposed to read to your partner before going to sleep has been shoved in a conspicuous and less than comfortable place...

c) You realize that, I swear to God, I only had one chin when I left the house this morning.

d) This post has very little to do with rock and or roll or Toronto.

e) I look even worse in profile:

That's it, I'm going back to the beard.

Oh, remind me to tell you how I infiltrated the Scientologist and, sort of, got away.

This is where things start to get incoherent:

I love Art Brut and I don't (but I sort of do) care what Pitchforkmedia thinks of it.

God, I'm the lucky one,

came in at 3:15, again.

So happy christmas, I love ya baby.

What a surprise, I was right.

To you and yours at this time of year.

I simply wish you a very Scouser Christmas.

Brilliant

  ¶ 3:37 AM

  There comes a time in every man's life... When you think that you look like this,















and in reality you look like this...















but, in your head you are serpico and ready to right the wrongs of the world, and you look as cool as shit just like this...
















but in reality you look exactly like this, when you try to do the righteous man, and end up looking more like a Village Person , and you think...

Jesus, I look just like my father. Oh apple why don't you fall father from the tree. And you think, I'm going to take on all the corruption in the world. And then you think, was Serpico a much better movie when it was Training Day, because Ethan Hawke was much less ethnic and that Denzel was badder than old king kong and meaner than a junk yard dog? Oh My God, I've turned into my parents and it wasn't just seeing myself in the moustache that triggered it.

It was the sunglasses.

I didn't even mention how the spirit of John Holmes was chasing me to show me the true spirit of Christmas or how History will prove me correct, or how I just shouldn't drink with other boys.

but that will have to wait until the morning  ¶ 3:41 AM 4 comments

  Roight Now. All 'ave ya!

I was feelin' pretty pissed, both litterally and figuratively, earlier after I spent over two hours at the Gladstone and had my song passed over countless times. I'm sure it came up not five minutes after I delivered the finger as I exited.

I don't want this to be all, whoa is me, I went out with a specific objective in mind and didin't achieve it but I learned something and now I'm a better person because of it, because that's not what happend.

I'm still pissed that I didn't get to do my signature song "Total Eclips of the Heart" and I still feel that Furious P. Wanker, said karoke gatekeeper, is an authoritarian little berk who lords his power over the people who pay his sideline wage and give him the adulation that his punch-card-day-job doesn't deliver. I hold grudges and I don't forgive that easily.

Then I came home and thought about things a bit and looked at what happened in the world today and how far I've come and thought about it a bit...

And do you know what I came up with?

Fuck it. He's a prat and a fuckwit and it doesn't matter how nice they've made the new gladstone, he's not even a proper DJ and whatever...

...I seem to have fallen out of my chair and can only muster enought strength to his publish...  ¶ 3:03 AM 3 comments

  You can take the boy out of the trailer park... At some point you realize that you are still watching the SUPERSTARS OF COUNTRY info-mercial, no longer mesmerized by Kenny Rogers latest lift or have given up on finding his behind-the-ear-stubble (thinks for the tip Andy Richter) and you realize that you actually love the Country. This goes beyond the fact that John Cusack name-checks Charlie Rich in High Fidelity or Rose Garden is sampled in ConCan or "Damn Whalen Jennings was a handsome man before the beard..."

You can't out run your past. You can't deny your heritage. You become that which you most fear and hate

But, damn I look good in a cowboy hat!

And I'm in an Effen' PICK UP TRUCK with a beer for Christie's Sake!!!

How much more country could I be!


C'MON!!!!  ¶ 1:18 AM 1 comments