"I've never had a problem with drugs. I've had problems with the police." - Keef
no words are necessary here. i figure they'd just be superfluous. what can i say that hasn't already been said?
Hunter S. Thompson interviewing Keith Richards.
"you don't know the meaning of beasting out unless you've snorted a drug off a bathroom floor."
for the past few years, this maxim had gone unedited, my sole defense against a generation that seems to think that weed is a hard drug (it fucking grows in the dirt, and if a little kid can blaze and not die or become violently ill, it's disqualified in my view) or that drinking a six pack of beer is binge drinking or "getting wasted." unless you've put yourself either on the brink of death, in treatment, or on your hands and knees trying to salvage your night after a bit of clumsiness, shut the fuck up.
but alas, an auxilliary to the mini-manifesto.
"You don't know the meaning of scumbaggery until you've fucked a guy's wife."
parlaying a former co-worker into an adulterous liaison was something i'd shied away from at first, but i'm really quite dichotomous (see previous post about rehab: "What More Can I Say..."). a few weeks of conscientious trepidation erased in a synapse-quick flash of horniness and a salacious want for something desperately depraved. what can i say? it's all quite biological. and besides, i'm a low-life. but not a regretful low-life mind you. shit was primo, puro, tubular even. a dream sequence played out in the suburban fuckfields. hope her husband had a good time in dallas, because i had a pretty good time in his wife.
reckless, yes. fearless, yes. godless, yes.
the soldiers of Street Thunder embrace this uncanny, hellish lifestyle. we pursue that which makes us happy and makes other people feel like shit, that which raises eyebrows and increases disdain for our tribe. we love the hate.
instant gratification's the trip my friends, 'more good times' being both our morals and our ethics. a flag flying in the face all that is pompous and proper and accepted.
surely, this isn't the end children. oh no. just the humble start of a beautiful nightmarish joyride that'll inspire future generations of vandals, philanderers, users, geniuses, and aficionados to greatness. there's many amendments to be made to this Constitution of these Rage Out States. oh yes. just give us some time. time's all we have.
an exchange:
Paul: we can drink street thunder lemonade, which is taking the nation by storm by the way
Kasai: oh yeah? ingredients?
Paul: pint glass with 2 shots everclear, lemonade, sugar and a lemon wedge
Kasai: delicious!
my balls itch. nothing too intense, but still appreciable enough to cause concern. too bad this is america and i don't have insurance, and thus can't get it checked out by a balding, beady-eyed middle aged physician in a private room. oh well, hard and dirty living catches up to you every so often. i'm sure it's nothing right. right?!
well. nevermind. speaking of hard living, it seems that every few weeks or so, i'm presented with reminders of who the true beasts on this blue marble are, Keef of course standing atop Mt. Olympus, somewhere near the summit. I won't bore you with superfluous foolishness here (i.e. background, other anecdotes, etc.), but a parusing of google news presented a particular gem to me.
in an interview with UK music rag NME, the interviewer asked Keef what was the most intense thing he'd ever put up his nose.
giving the answer that only a true beast of this order could, he quickly replied that he snorted his dad once. back in '02. ol' Bert Richards kicked it, so Keef, honoring his old man's legacy, ground his ashes into some coke and ripped a few funerary hollywoods up his right nostril. asked what his dad would think of this behavior, he shot back that he wouldn't have given a shit. if only all our fathers could be so cool.
the guitarist also took some time during the article to shit on the libertines/arctic monkeys/bloc party (knowing that NME LOVES these bands), claiming that they're derivative "poser rubbish." whatev. i'm a huge fan of those three groups, but who fucking cares dude. this is keef. besides, the rolling stones (et al.) were entirely original when they stepped onto the scene four decades ago, right? originality is dead anyway, has been for a long time. but i have to admit that Keef shitting on the new breed is far more tolerable/justified than that faggot morrissey doing it. or even pete townshend for that matter (he referred to the blokes of arctic monkeys as 12-year old wankers haha).
regardless of the hateration on the young bucks, it doesn't get much better than this. it really doesn't. in Keef we trust.
