This needs alot of editing but I'm going to sleep now so:
The great Glam Aces- The Kill City Thrillers are abandoning Denver for Portland, I will be at there last Denver show tonight at 15th St. Tavern. Johnny and his crew are hot as the sun and I will miss them. I you live in portland get ready for a treat. I'm very disappointed that he won't have the chance to see me in action first hand, at least not for a long time. Sunday I'm taking my father to Pike's Peak speed way, and in the evening my band I will be pouring milk shakes on the curb in honor of the late great WESLEY WILLIS who left us AUGUST 21, 2003. When I'm sad he still cheers me up. In my darkest hour Wesley was my redemption. Until I heard Wesley Willis I did not no how to love like I love a Milk Shake, or how to Whump Batman's A$s, survive a hellride, or suck a camels dick, but Wesley showed me the light. Wesley was passion incarnate. Passion transcendent. The rock and roll bumble bee. On paper a bumble bee shouldn't fly, but a bumble bee flies. Like wise a 6'5" 350 pound schizophrenia man playing the same song over and over again should not rock. BUT HE TOTALLY Rocked out. I only (sadly) got to witness one show. His birthday party (39th?) It was one of the greatest shows I've seen. Even the stupid frat boys who came down to make fun of Wesley were bowled over by the heavenly joyride. It was magical evening. I had painted a portrait Wesley, and wanted to met him. I arrived at the show early, awkwardly hung around, and when I met him it was wonderful. He was muttering something to an a$shole demon, and looked hard. I nervously asked him if he'd like to see my painting- he vacantly gazed at me. I was slightly tense. He then stare at me for 15 seconds and exclaimed "yeaaaaaaahhhhhhh" in a long breathy darl. He liked the painting, and I asked him to autograph it, he compiled. I darted to my backpack to find my fun saver camera. I took lots of pictures. Then for a short period of time he explained to me how he was going to disco out, tonight and muttered more to himself and head butted various people around him. I was so proud when he asked me to give him a head butt. It filled me with so much joy. JOY WAS A RARE COMMODITY AT THAT POINT IN MY LIFE. SEE PROFILE PIC. In 2002 life at that moment was close to total misery. It hurts to even think about it even now. My idea of a good time was laying alone in room with Jandek on popping sleeping pills, and chasing them with my boyfriend Jim Beam. I was a fat, acned alcoholic douche bag who fantasized about dying often. Nights half blacked out listening to GG, Nico, Stan Kenton plays the work of Bob Graettinger, loads of blues and Hank Williams's sad songs. Either total anger, or total sadness. Sometimes both. The start drinking with Mentors end puking with the Smiths. The only woman I ever cared about her had mother died of cancer. We had made a clean brake. I would have loved her but I new she didn't love me. I had became very close with her dying mother. We bonded over if nothing else how we cared about her daughter, and she treated us like shit. Don't get me wrong I was a no saint either, I'm sure I was a drunk pain in the a$s. The only thing I asked of her when we broke up was that she call if her mother died. She promised and told Of course I will, of coures I will. I found out about her death 3 months after she left for the other side. I couldn't believe that c*unt hadn't called me.(She still hasn't contacted me at this point I hope never to hear from her again) I don't know what happened inside my head but I broke from myself. The kite spring popped. Hell this stuff could have started in 2001, my memories from that time period bleed into scary, or madly brilliant alcoholic haze. I wanted to die, but I wanted to die on my feet. I didn't want my mother to find me a bloody mess in my room, I also wanted my parents to have some time to prepare for my passing. I simply tired to party myself to death. Why kill yourself with a gun when you can kill yourself having fun... I wrote in morbid poem. DRINK, FIGHT and FUCK as good ole GG said. Scabs covered my knuckes. Drunk, Naked skating on 1-93 between Golden and Boulder. Cruising drug dealers old ladies, my butt kicked a lot. Anything felt better then the way I felt inside. I was alone in vortex of pain and pathetic apathy. Only two things cheered me up at that pointin my life my little kitten mohawk, and the work of Wesley Willis. Wesley was the only artist with a happy message that I would enjoy listening to. I was on a NERVE SHATTING HELLRIDE that I couldn't stop. I was in a dark place, and Wesley was the only sun shine I felt comfortable letting in. That and petting my sweet little kitty kat mohawk. Something changed in me after that show. I think that subconsciously I realized that under lifes pressures we had both had snapped. But we were very very different, under those strains. He had lost his sanity, but kept his humanity. He still had a connection to those around him. He was still a kind person. I could at least fake my sanity, but I could not connect with anyone.(I still am very insular) I was a cold pissy misanthrope. But I felt comfortable to enough let him in. It was the first time I had a non-violent connection with anyone in a since I turned 20. After that show I was still a drunk misanthrope, but I became a productive drunk misanthrope. I really left I had to communicate what I felt inside, or the darkness was going totally engulf me. I started living a strange double life. I dropped back into school, work as hard at anything I set my mind to as hard as I could. With coffee and ephdrine I took indepent studies and with GED credits I finished a 1 year and halfs worth of work in three months while working and parting full time. I tripled the amount of paintings I was producing. I set up a time table of things I wanted to do before I died. If Wesley could over come his schizophrenia, and make incredable art I could too. A gleamer of hope was all I needed. I still lived hard. But If wasn't for the hope Wesley brought me, I might not have dodged meth addicts knives, crawled my beaten ass off the train track when I was beaten to a bloody pulp, kicked the shit out of a jealous boyfriend who had a gleen in his eye that I new he was coming for my blood. If it wasn't for Wesley I might have given up. That show pulled me from the brink of destuction. I wish he was around to thank cause I'm a lot better now, but who knows were I'd with out his work. ROCK OVER LONDON- ROCK ON CHICAGO
Now on to the present
Today we're going have our first official band practice since our last show. I had to give my band a break- I pushed those boys hard. We were only together 5 weeks or so before our first show, and our bass player we broke him in 8 days- it was not easy, but he was up to the challenge. We did great considering how little time we had been together. The first show was bloody(I have Scars HA! HA!), me doing horrible Tom Jones impersonations, our bass players strap locks falling off, and to my suprise our band went over well with the arty farty monkey mania hipster types, even though I was being my rude, sh*t taking hick a$$hole self. That's in past though- its time to push again. MY BOYS BEGGED ME FOR MORE GIGS. You don't know how happy that makes me. Now my other band DURIAT'S CHILDREN has a weekend draw of 50 to 200 people (not including people we know personally- your friends never count) when we advertise on the western of suburbs Denver which doesn't sound great until you consider that DURIAT'S CHILDREN have played just under 3 months in two years. All the work I've done in that time period I'm very proud of. My drummer Jon is the only hold over from my other band. SO HE KNOWS WHAT'S COMING. The others don't have any clue. DURIAT'S CHILDREN is not broken up but is on hiatus, our Guitar player Bill lives 95% of the time in Los Angeles, and our bass player Dee lives 50 miles away, and is excepting a his first baby so we really don't get together and jam. Now how did we get such a draw- WE WORKED OUR A$$ES OFF- From September 22, 2003, to November 6, 2003, we played 33 shows, we would have played more, but my fat a$$ checked into rehab, after my van mysteriously folded in half and I woke up freezing cold covered in blood. I did get a great song out of that experience CHRISTMAS IN REHAB, makes audiences all misty. Which is hard to do after you have trashed a club, or are a fat man stomping around in a dress. From June 26, 2004, to July 12, 2004, we played 25 shows, this time I was clean with one exception. I know we stomped butt cause I still enjoy it when it when a strangers ask me every time my reclusive butt goes to the super market from teenage girls, to biker thugs ask me when DURIAT'S CHILDREN next show is even though we haven't played for over a year. Now it is time apply that work ethic to my new band (I'd love to plug the name but the rules on hate speech might get me 86'd if I do, and I'd miss honking the weenier to women with similar interests to myself) Here are the songs we have perfected -
ACID RETILE BOY SEX RITUAL (free form heavy metal)
PORNOGRAPHY OF ROMANCE
TYPICAL TEENAGE COUPLE
JACK THE RIPPER (Blanket Syndrome cover)
MINUET UP MY A$$
STEAMING RED CLAW HAMMER
SCARY SPACE SONG (free form space hell rock and roll)
HAULIN AND A BRAWLIN
TASTE SHEILA'S WHIP
CHRISTMAS IN REHAB
MORE SONG TITLES BUT THE RULES PREVENT ME FROM TYPING
IN THE WORKS- KILLER SONGS WE HAVEN'T PERFECTED YET
ROAD PIRATES
PLEASANT VIEW MOTHER F*CKERS
ZERO GRAVITY SPACE FETISH
YOUNG WORKING AND PISSED
SHAKE IT LITTLE LEXY
MASSAGE PARLOR BLUES
SKELETON BOY MUST DIE
SHROOMS AT LAKESIDE
GOOD SHOW
YOUR HEAD IS STILL ATTACHED (BUT YOUR SKULLS IN SEVEN PIECES)
MR. PEEPERS NIGHT OUT
HOLY WATER AND POND SCUM
FAT SUGAR MAMA
LOVE AT 10 AT 2
We've got a lot of work to do. We already have more songs than my other band.
DURIAT'S CHILDREN SET
BIG WHEELS
NO TOMORROW
LEAD (as in bullets)
COCK N BALLS
SUNSHINE
ALL I WANT
AVANT COCK ROCK (70 to the 15)
JACK THE RIPPER (Blanket Syndrome cover)
FRIEND (Blanket Syndrome cover)
When Bill came out from LA we had only three days before the first show, and I relapsed after the first show. We went ape sh*t and trashed the place, but lost 7 paying gigs. In the end the word of mouth paid better then if we'd been a bunch of pussies, but at that moment I didn't see it that way. We played shows sometimes 2 a night, or at least 4 shows a week usually a lot more. Still somehow we started some new material.
DURIAT'S CHILDRENs FUTURE
POP PUNK SONG
THE AFFAIR
WHY DO GIRLS WANT A MAN IN DRAG (DO THEY WANT ANOTHER GIRL OR DO THEY WANT A F_*)
The great Glam Aces- The Kill City Thrillers are abandoning Denver for Portland, I will be at there last Denver show tonight at 15th St. Tavern. Johnny and his crew are hot as the sun and I will miss them. I you live in portland get ready for a treat. I'm very disappointed that he won't have the chance to see me in action first hand, at least not for a long time. Sunday I'm taking my father to Pike's Peak speed way, and in the evening my band I will be pouring milk shakes on the curb in honor of the late great WESLEY WILLIS who left us AUGUST 21, 2003. When I'm sad he still cheers me up. In my darkest hour Wesley was my redemption. Until I heard Wesley Willis I did not no how to love like I love a Milk Shake, or how to Whump Batman's A$s, survive a hellride, or suck a camels dick, but Wesley showed me the light. Wesley was passion incarnate. Passion transcendent. The rock and roll bumble bee. On paper a bumble bee shouldn't fly, but a bumble bee flies. Like wise a 6'5" 350 pound schizophrenia man playing the same song over and over again should not rock. BUT HE TOTALLY Rocked out. I only (sadly) got to witness one show. His birthday party (39th?) It was one of the greatest shows I've seen. Even the stupid frat boys who came down to make fun of Wesley were bowled over by the heavenly joyride. It was magical evening. I had painted a portrait Wesley, and wanted to met him. I arrived at the show early, awkwardly hung around, and when I met him it was wonderful. He was muttering something to an a$shole demon, and looked hard. I nervously asked him if he'd like to see my painting- he vacantly gazed at me. I was slightly tense. He then stare at me for 15 seconds and exclaimed "yeaaaaaaahhhhhhh" in a long breathy darl. He liked the painting, and I asked him to autograph it, he compiled. I darted to my backpack to find my fun saver camera. I took lots of pictures. Then for a short period of time he explained to me how he was going to disco out, tonight and muttered more to himself and head butted various people around him. I was so proud when he asked me to give him a head butt. It filled me with so much joy. JOY WAS A RARE COMMODITY AT THAT POINT IN MY LIFE. SEE PROFILE PIC. In 2002 life at that moment was close to total misery. It hurts to even think about it even now. My idea of a good time was laying alone in room with Jandek on popping sleeping pills, and chasing them with my boyfriend Jim Beam. I was a fat, acned alcoholic douche bag who fantasized about dying often. Nights half blacked out listening to GG, Nico, Stan Kenton plays the work of Bob Graettinger, loads of blues and Hank Williams's sad songs. Either total anger, or total sadness. Sometimes both. The start drinking with Mentors end puking with the Smiths. The only woman I ever cared about her had mother died of cancer. We had made a clean brake. I would have loved her but I new she didn't love me. I had became very close with her dying mother. We bonded over if nothing else how we cared about her daughter, and she treated us like shit. Don't get me wrong I was a no saint either, I'm sure I was a drunk pain in the a$s. The only thing I asked of her when we broke up was that she call if her mother died. She promised and told Of course I will, of coures I will. I found out about her death 3 months after she left for the other side. I couldn't believe that c*unt hadn't called me.(She still hasn't contacted me at this point I hope never to hear from her again) I don't know what happened inside my head but I broke from myself. The kite spring popped. Hell this stuff could have started in 2001, my memories from that time period bleed into scary, or madly brilliant alcoholic haze. I wanted to die, but I wanted to die on my feet. I didn't want my mother to find me a bloody mess in my room, I also wanted my parents to have some time to prepare for my passing. I simply tired to party myself to death. Why kill yourself with a gun when you can kill yourself having fun... I wrote in morbid poem. DRINK, FIGHT and FUCK as good ole GG said. Scabs covered my knuckes. Drunk, Naked skating on 1-93 between Golden and Boulder. Cruising drug dealers old ladies, my butt kicked a lot. Anything felt better then the way I felt inside. I was alone in vortex of pain and pathetic apathy. Only two things cheered me up at that pointin my life my little kitten mohawk, and the work of Wesley Willis. Wesley was the only artist with a happy message that I would enjoy listening to. I was on a NERVE SHATTING HELLRIDE that I couldn't stop. I was in a dark place, and Wesley was the only sun shine I felt comfortable letting in. That and petting my sweet little kitty kat mohawk. Something changed in me after that show. I think that subconsciously I realized that under lifes pressures we had both had snapped. But we were very very different, under those strains. He had lost his sanity, but kept his humanity. He still had a connection to those around him. He was still a kind person. I could at least fake my sanity, but I could not connect with anyone.(I still am very insular) I was a cold pissy misanthrope. But I felt comfortable to enough let him in. It was the first time I had a non-violent connection with anyone in a since I turned 20. After that show I was still a drunk misanthrope, but I became a productive drunk misanthrope. I really left I had to communicate what I felt inside, or the darkness was going totally engulf me. I started living a strange double life. I dropped back into school, work as hard at anything I set my mind to as hard as I could. With coffee and ephdrine I took indepent studies and with GED credits I finished a 1 year and halfs worth of work in three months while working and parting full time. I tripled the amount of paintings I was producing. I set up a time table of things I wanted to do before I died. If Wesley could over come his schizophrenia, and make incredable art I could too. A gleamer of hope was all I needed. I still lived hard. But If wasn't for the hope Wesley brought me, I might not have dodged meth addicts knives, crawled my beaten ass off the train track when I was beaten to a bloody pulp, kicked the shit out of a jealous boyfriend who had a gleen in his eye that I new he was coming for my blood. If it wasn't for Wesley I might have given up. That show pulled me from the brink of destuction. I wish he was around to thank cause I'm a lot better now, but who knows were I'd with out his work. ROCK OVER LONDON- ROCK ON CHICAGO
Now on to the present
Today we're going have our first official band practice since our last show. I had to give my band a break- I pushed those boys hard. We were only together 5 weeks or so before our first show, and our bass player we broke him in 8 days- it was not easy, but he was up to the challenge. We did great considering how little time we had been together. The first show was bloody(I have Scars HA! HA!), me doing horrible Tom Jones impersonations, our bass players strap locks falling off, and to my suprise our band went over well with the arty farty monkey mania hipster types, even though I was being my rude, sh*t taking hick a$$hole self. That's in past though- its time to push again. MY BOYS BEGGED ME FOR MORE GIGS. You don't know how happy that makes me. Now my other band DURIAT'S CHILDREN has a weekend draw of 50 to 200 people (not including people we know personally- your friends never count) when we advertise on the western of suburbs Denver which doesn't sound great until you consider that DURIAT'S CHILDREN have played just under 3 months in two years. All the work I've done in that time period I'm very proud of. My drummer Jon is the only hold over from my other band. SO HE KNOWS WHAT'S COMING. The others don't have any clue. DURIAT'S CHILDREN is not broken up but is on hiatus, our Guitar player Bill lives 95% of the time in Los Angeles, and our bass player Dee lives 50 miles away, and is excepting a his first baby so we really don't get together and jam. Now how did we get such a draw- WE WORKED OUR A$$ES OFF- From September 22, 2003, to November 6, 2003, we played 33 shows, we would have played more, but my fat a$$ checked into rehab, after my van mysteriously folded in half and I woke up freezing cold covered in blood. I did get a great song out of that experience CHRISTMAS IN REHAB, makes audiences all misty. Which is hard to do after you have trashed a club, or are a fat man stomping around in a dress. From June 26, 2004, to July 12, 2004, we played 25 shows, this time I was clean with one exception. I know we stomped butt cause I still enjoy it when it when a strangers ask me every time my reclusive butt goes to the super market from teenage girls, to biker thugs ask me when DURIAT'S CHILDREN next show is even though we haven't played for over a year. Now it is time apply that work ethic to my new band (I'd love to plug the name but the rules on hate speech might get me 86'd if I do, and I'd miss honking the weenier to women with similar interests to myself) Here are the songs we have perfected -
ACID RETILE BOY SEX RITUAL (free form heavy metal)
PORNOGRAPHY OF ROMANCE
TYPICAL TEENAGE COUPLE
JACK THE RIPPER (Blanket Syndrome cover)
MINUET UP MY A$$
STEAMING RED CLAW HAMMER
SCARY SPACE SONG (free form space hell rock and roll)
HAULIN AND A BRAWLIN
TASTE SHEILA'S WHIP
CHRISTMAS IN REHAB
MORE SONG TITLES BUT THE RULES PREVENT ME FROM TYPING
IN THE WORKS- KILLER SONGS WE HAVEN'T PERFECTED YET
ROAD PIRATES
PLEASANT VIEW MOTHER F*CKERS
ZERO GRAVITY SPACE FETISH
YOUNG WORKING AND PISSED
SHAKE IT LITTLE LEXY
MASSAGE PARLOR BLUES
SKELETON BOY MUST DIE
SHROOMS AT LAKESIDE
GOOD SHOW
YOUR HEAD IS STILL ATTACHED (BUT YOUR SKULLS IN SEVEN PIECES)
MR. PEEPERS NIGHT OUT
HOLY WATER AND POND SCUM
FAT SUGAR MAMA
LOVE AT 10 AT 2
We've got a lot of work to do. We already have more songs than my other band.
DURIAT'S CHILDREN SET
BIG WHEELS
NO TOMORROW
LEAD (as in bullets)
COCK N BALLS
SUNSHINE
ALL I WANT
AVANT COCK ROCK (70 to the 15)
JACK THE RIPPER (Blanket Syndrome cover)
FRIEND (Blanket Syndrome cover)
When Bill came out from LA we had only three days before the first show, and I relapsed after the first show. We went ape sh*t and trashed the place, but lost 7 paying gigs. In the end the word of mouth paid better then if we'd been a bunch of pussies, but at that moment I didn't see it that way. We played shows sometimes 2 a night, or at least 4 shows a week usually a lot more. Still somehow we started some new material.
DURIAT'S CHILDRENs FUTURE
POP PUNK SONG
THE AFFAIR
WHY DO GIRLS WANT A MAN IN DRAG (DO THEY WANT ANOTHER GIRL OR DO THEY WANT A F_*)
The World Arena is good, but thats an arena so you only get the really big names there.
I haven't seen a show in the Springs since the above mentioned closed down. I just drive to Denver and Boulder . . . could be worse, coul dhave to drive eight hours to see anyone.