my first post...

Like all other endeavors I've ever thought to engage in was supposed to be truly grand.... But there comes a time when you just have to say "fuck it" and get it over with... so with that in mind, here is an article I found on the quietus this morning about the Ex who are a favorite of mine and adam's.
At some point I'm going to do a bigger post on them and put up a mixtape of some of my favorite songs of theirs, but in the meantime I suppose I'll just post this little interview... I mean, I've got to start wih SOMETHING, right?
read the interview here.

word.

Minutmen Poetry Monday

Courtesy of Pedro's finest.

I Felt Like A Gringo

a ton of white boy guilt, that's my problem -

obstacle to joy (one reason for drugs)

slept on a mexican beach,

slept in trash

(american trash) thinking too much can ruin a good time.

I asked a mexican who ran a bar for americans "who won"

I said "the election?" he laughed

and I felt like a gringo

we paid for a song and they had fun with us.

why can't you buy a good time?
why are there soldiers in the streets?
why did I spend the fourth
in someone else's country?

Beacon Sighted Through The Fog

To me the minutemen were one of the greatest bands to come outta the punk movement (which is a pretty fluid definition) and some of my favorite lyricists of all time. I wish you could buy an anthology of Minutemen lyrics, put together like a collection of poetry. Boon's/Watt's/Hurley's lyrics read like ancient Eastern poetry, almost directly translated, like Snyders translation of the poetry of Buddhist recluse Han Shan, or some great beat abstract Walt Whitman. I wish I could make a bitch'n desk calander where each day is a different song, the songs are short enough and prevalent enough that you could fill 365 days for sure. So in to in an attempt to share this view with the world I'll be posting a different Minutemen song each Monday, if you get something out of it, great! If it does nothing for you, then your probably just a lost cause and a burden on those around you. - Griz.

A BEACON SIGHTED THROUGH THE FOG

Caste off, meaning is rough. I'm one knot tangled in a heap.

I know it's paradox with my dreams.

I know it's paradox with my dreams.

Ship's creaking, taking on bull shit.

I fuckin' scream: jump ship! jump shimp!

What Endures.

This is an piece of writing from back in 2004. I was living with my Bro and friend in JP, still figuring shit out. My old friend from VT came in and we went nuts for a weekend, going to a show, skating and tearing shit apart. Reading this over I thought the essence of it suited the zine so I'm posting it up. Even though some things have changed (mainly AM signed and makes shitty music now), the spirit and optimism of this piece are still with me today. So without further ado:

G. Came into the city on holiday from his studies of marine life way up in the northern waters. Everything changes when you have a true partner in mayhem by your side. Don't get me wrong I got some friends in this wasteland of steel and cement, good friends new and old. But none that will risk a beating from strangers or incarceration just to get people to laugh as often as G.
We saw The Bouncing Souls, Against Me!, on G.'s first night in town. It had a really kinda tent revival feeling, in just the fact that bands like Against Me and the Bouncing Souls seem to succeed in inspiring and giving me (and many fans) that feeling of something to believe in. With the overwhelming amount of bullshit you have to brace against, stomach, and battle just to exist in an urban (even rural) environment these days, it's inspiring and empowering when someone stands beside you stares at all the same suffering and threats of daily existence and doesn't try to escape it but instead answers back with a howls of passion, optimism, suffering, heartbreak, strength, anger and love. That's why it breaks kids hearts when punk bands sign to major labels, because it feels like they're trying to escape the fight, rather then settling for everyone being free and allowed to live and share, it seems like they've settled for just getting themselves free. I know this isn't always the case or whatever, but fuck it that's what it feels like at times, you don't want to make excuses for the music, you want to believe it's there with you.
So anyway, I love the bouncing souls (really cool guys) and I think Against Me! Are one of the best bands around these days. Both bands fucking destroyed and I left soaked in sweat and a voice that was in shredds from screaming along.
The next night we went stir crazy and everyone in the room thought the other person was trying to steal some of their sugar. We slumped into our seats like broken trolls, an air of sorrow clung to the ceiling and crawled up the through the floorboards. It whispered "Tomorrow the freedom ends and you must return to work". Fucking mother fuck! At times it makes me feel soft and viscous like all the requirements for actually living have left me worn and stretched thin.
There are few cures for this curse that starts following you once you reach the age where you are able to understand what the weekend means. What do fucking mean these days are in the minority? You mean I have to spend more time in some alien building, crammed into a hard plastic chair, freaking out under the fluorescent lights, with a bunch of snotty nosed punks that try to weasel me out of my fruit snacks!!? And then from school it becomes work, which you can twist as much as possible to be bearable but the end product is still work. Or you can escape this and be a student and keep being a student for as long as possible but then your back with the whole fruit snack delimma and the fact that you've become kinda useless.
So we did what was best to destroy this evil voodoo and went skating. I was the only one with a board so we alternated attempting to ollie shit and so forth. While one of us skated the other two took turns finding new ways to get hurt and new things to jump on to. Honestly it's some of the most fun I've ever had on this planet. When your with the people that know the story behind each scar and the jokes that would offend or baffle the rest of the population it's pure joy.
I usually skate alone, not or any other reason than the fact that none of my city friends skate. I still get so much pleasure from it (even the pain makes me smile) but it'll be hard the next time I get on a board and land something new and no one who witnessed it can name the girl that broke my heart or remember what it's like to get lost in the woods for days on end. I just keep rolling by strangers aware of every crack that could catch the wheels, watching the coma lights of the empty factory lots ooze through chain-link. Even though the board is such a tool/response to the modern environment it feels very primal to me. I feel nomadic when in motion and the rumbling sound of the bearings in my trux recall distant herds of caribou moving across the tundra. I close around the solitude and sometimes I think I hold it too tightly, I get too used to it, or too ambivalent about it.
Try just to experience the joy and the pain with out grasping or resisting. We set our own limits, watch for where the roots have cracked the tar.

Where we're coming from......

This blog is the twisted love child of Minya and myself. an unholy alliance of two ancient forces that collided in the ghetto of South-central South Starksboro VT, so many moons ago. Though we're doing this on the inter-webs and blog pages, our vision and approach is that of the great zines that have come and gone on the big blue circle. Some may chafe at this concept but probably not since few will even read this. Due to the tyranny of distance and time, we believe that using the Internet and blog format will result in increased productivity and accessibility to those in the know. I won't attempt to define or categorize what our format or subjects will be, I will only say that the model from which we're working is all of the nights we sat up until 3am drinking Jim Beam and talking excitedly about Punk and life. Similar to the way in which the Clash approached the construction of a particularly well loved album: "Sandinista", this zine/blog will not be limited by fixed concepts or definitions, it is a forum devoted to experimentation and the celebration of passion, rebellion, and great fucking music.

Thanks for reading,
Grizzle.