Arrive in neurotica
Through neon heat disease
I swear at the swarming heards
I sweat the foul terrain
I rove the moving scenery

I have
no fin –
no wing –
no stinger –
no claw –
no camouflage

I have –
no more to say…

You know it’s that kinda day when you wind up with King Crimson songs stuck in your head.

James Brown is dead at 73 – leaving the world a whole hell of a lot less funky on this christmas day.

I wish I could post one of the tracks from the James Brown christmas album, about which I had a very strange conversation just the other day. Of course, I can’t find it right now.

This is a sad day. God knows we all needs a lot more of the funk any day of the year.

Hit Me, godfather of soul.

If you have ghosts you have everything
If you have ghosts you have everything
if you can say everything you want
then you can do anything you want
if you have ghosts you have everything.
     -Roky Erickson, If you have ghosts

God DAMN it why can’t i find Roky Erickson lyrics anywhere?

Oh, and if you don’t have The Evil One get it. Now. Play it often.

I got to keep moving, I got to keep moving
Blues falling down like hail, blues falling down like hail
Mmm, blues falling down like hail, blues falling down like hail
And the day keeps on remindin’ me, there’s a hellhound on my trail
Hellhound on my trail, hellhound on my trail

If today was Christmas eve, if today was Christmas eve
And tomorrow was Christmas day
If today was Christmas eve and tomorrow was Christmas day
All I would need is my little sweet rider
Just to pass the time away, to pass the time away

I posted something annoying and brimmin’ with self-pity and small scale caged-rat rage yesterday, waking up with a brain full of ground glass and a mouthful of bile.

I dunno what the fuck was up; i know that I yanked the entry almost soon as I’d posted it, before i could get any comments, though not soon enough that i missed a few hits in the log. So i know someone read it.

Today, i wake in a Robert Johnson mood; i’ve been reading up on Johnson’s legends about the sale of a soul and a price paid at the crossroads; meanwhile I’m listening to Johnson’s reedy singing and brilliant guitar; and it suits my mood better.

I can tell the wind is risin’, the leaves tremblin’ on the tree
Tremblin’ on the tree
I can tell the wind is risin’, leaves tremblin’ on the tree
All I need is my little sweet woman
And to keep my company, hey, hey, hey, hey, my company

I dunno what the fuck is up with me this week; my head’s not right and i have that crazy edge that makes me want to do stupid things. I feel my teeth grinding and want to pick a fight; i want to hurt someone, in both good and bad ways. Weather, holidays, stress, rage contained a little too long.

I don’t know.

Old RJ makes me feel good though.

Me and the devil
We were walking side by side
Me and the devil
We were walking side by side
I’m gonna love your woman, Satan
‘Til I’m satisfied

Rockabilly Lemmy?

Yes. And you know, it kinda works. Lemmy wanted to make a record of the music he says inspired him to start playing, and it’s hard to get much better backing players than Slim Jim Phantom and Danny Harvey for a record like this.

Give it a listen:
Big River
Not Fade Away

I’m really big on that version of Not Fade Away. I think it’s the best track on the disc. On the other hand, there are tracks that really, really don’t work, like the title track, ‘fool’s paradise’. Lemmy isn’t what you’d call a gifted vocalist, and while I adore what he does when he’s in his comfort zone, when he’s outside it, he’s way, way outside it. So there are some painful moments; painful like karaoke with a buddy, so it’s the sort of i love ya man but knock that the fuck off feeling. It’s the let’s have us another drink and fuck it, we’re singin’ feeling. You know what i’m talkin’ about.

It’s not a run-out-and-buy-it CD by any means; and yet I did.

I got skulls in the bottom of a whiskey glass
I’m a big bold man, but I think I’ll pass
Better slow up, I’m moving up too fast
Something’s come for me at last

Hot flame licking on the burning meat
Black smoke broiling off broken bones
Something came close in the dead of night
Found him in the dark, and he was all alone

Dead eyes, dead eyes
Dead eyes, dead eyes

Skulls in the bottom of a whiskey glass
I’m a big bold man, but I think I’ll pass
Better slow up, I’m moving up too fast
Something’s come for me at last

Dead eyes, dead eyes
Dead eyes, dead eyes

     —Guadalcanal Diary, Dead Eyes (click the song name for the mp3)

You know what the Gurus mean when they talk about Wakin’ up tired:

Oh, the nights are long
And I’m so tired of waking up tired,
Man, they just drag on and on
And I’m so tired of waking up tired.
The company I’m keeping
Won’t let me get my sleep in.

Oh, I hate the light
And I’m so tired of waking up tired.
The morning sun is getting way too bright
And I’m so tired of waking up tired.
If I was worth a fortune
I’d never leave my bedroom
I just wanna stay right here, safe and sound.

Oh, I have to go
But I’m so tired of waking up tired.
The lights are on but there is no-one home
‘Cos I’m so wired from waking up tired.
I need a month of Sundays
To help me cope with Mondays,
I just wanna stay right here, safe and sound.
Blankets pulled up to my ears, safe and sound

     –Hoodoo Gurus, Wakin’ up Tired

(song here – m4a/aac format cause I’m lazy)