I am on a leash. I hold the leash. I make a speech, outside of "myself", I tire too fast and uninpred the last of my minions with a fit and a spat, and shit and a shower of broken glass. Staying fast, I travel several thousand miles in a few days without moving at all.... I really kinda dislike Bob Dylan..his music can be acceptable in the right setting; but he is an asshole, ...I've met at least 5 totally dispirate from each other who all claim him to be a prima-donna asshole dickhead. I'd rather hang out with Jakob, even though the Wallflowers are barely listenable in my opine. Well...no, I giess they are alright....I'd be remiss in casting judgement as I only have listened to "the hits" on the radio, etc...I should bother to hear their album, deep album tracks...off to now. I found something better for the now moent: Paul Bibbins...holy god..he is amazing....an original truly: not many of us left I am bereft and digress and digest that which I hear.....and aboutto take a pull from my older than I 20-inch ROOR, as I could easily die in manners too graphic and none of your damnable business to begin with...to infringe on my privacy, indoctrinate the Libersteins accross the street instead of KNOCKING on MY bloody door (It's covered in blood...not a figure of speech.,...or is it?? People will one day have bio-lunescent films, which use your resident ATP to power them, so no betteries would ever be needed..If something went wrong: you would either take a capsule that would, for 12 hours, introduce an enzyme into your system to permit uour body tosimply absorb the thing.
People, like I who are poierced in their ears (actually..come to think of it...I think, due to having a "large-enough" (10 gague ) conch piercing...it would be easy to alter existing jewelry to permit my bluetooth earpiece to not get llost for the 3 or 4th time...I twist my head around to make sure the isn't a car in the lane I am trying to merge into.., and , it smacks the oposing side rear window and it lost for months.
"Inglourious Basterds" (Tarantinos' version....hence the spelling) should be watched in High School History classes. The absolute most fuckered thing in the world to do to a man (I only excluse women as I can only imagine the passage would not be as painful due to the lack of "outdoor plumbing"..just my assumption) but, as revernge/punishment: develop a horror of a revenge drug that would induce the body to create kidney stones that...well...guess what, home-fries: You have to pass them. Now: a nice-guy would give the guy a "gift-pack" of morphine syrettes (or just nurse Usherettes, stock with narcotics), deep in their Bodice: for which they force you to search with your hand and closed eyes and demands or a loaded handgun...or upholster their entire bathroom so they don't split their head open when they pass out from the pain (precisely what I did on my first passage of The Cape of Infierno del Riñón...or is is called Cabo Pene De La Sangría....; I think it is known by both names. --NGP
I bleed my conceit, and arrogant deception, description and inception of in fect I have the FULL-ON blues at the moment,...too many years of too much mashed-up and contorted reality does that to anyone whgo thinks they are actually alive See me allow the tallow the tinge and binge; as everyman knows it; the desire to light a fire to simply FUCKING watch it burn.
below the shallow fungal-dark waters I spring a tube through to not becomes blue...... I esist as something stealth tonight to finish the destruction of those thing without Extreme Unction
If this deductionj is clear, ...I will have nothing to fear...,
I may have to express/impress (atempt to that is))...
I see nothing but doubt in my damned close triumvirate with sly some they won't refuse (but will not now be offered if by me received a portion....respect is all I desire: simple Human to Human respect. If I make any money from MY creation I will keep said monies....there is nobody I owe a cent to aside from my credit card co. It is not the end though; Child Protective Services will, as soon as I leave, will soon relieve my brother and mother of custody of the child they demonstrate lack of capacity to deal with..the child kicks my dog when others are not watching...has, I've, in the last month caught his leg mid-kick twice. He is a monument to an asshole....since he has no name here, and no capacity to read..he will (since his father called him a retard to HIS FACE last weekend!!) IT is 11, now with the mind of a 2-year-old I have no desire to not play the same game as others, just for the PHUCK of all of it... Tell, me public who never EVER responds to a good-goddamned fucking thing (thanks for simply NOT taking 3 minutes to write someting on this BLOG...it really amkes me happy that I am ALL ALJONE. (Hint Hint),,...FUCK!!!!!!
My idiot brother and my idiot mother disgust me more than I cna possibly espress. ' I ma often asked why I write about suc "ugly" things"....
I reply thusly, "LIFE IS RATED XXX...if yopu can't tkae it, simply pay NO attention to that which occurs ouitside of your puritanical "idiot bubble" I have work to do.......know of what speak before you open your mouths. please....PLEASE!! --Nick-Gerald
Cholesterol; infested digestion, Trichina worms Molested, detested intercession harms, or burns, starves then laughs, staves of wooden glass and here turns a desert mother-ship....I 'm not allowed the luxury of disdain any longer than this reversal; It is an inversion layer again, ..;resolute in my mission, my incisions my derision in submission i kneel to something...I kneel in figures; There are staves of wood, of plastic, of the once alive plastinated; the once described, alive, sublime, then desecrated but reborn in ideas and IDEALS.. I repeal my notions when they are needed and shown. I see my DE-generation being nothing but stoned. The principles, incidentals, Christ would rent you as his example of those who just don't fucking get it. . I am of a sort, though, locked up but committed no crime..I am in prison in my mind: a decisive warrant for my destruction waits and flits around until the Bureau of whatever receives the directive forwards in triplicate the order for my death to another agency inside, ..; they then forwArd further purposeless paper to a thousand times a thousand places for the rubber stampy; feel long, hard, crampy...that is what it is like to be me at the right time...: you'll find yourself waiting in the Postal Office awaiting your turn to be raped; they would provide Amyl Nitrate, you Fight-rate, high payed (for the damn-near NOTHING you cashier fucks actually do; you should be forced to make up your wages by wresting in shit...human preferably, or whatever is more disgustingly awful. Whenever it is a situation where I am waiting to ..
I am interrupted by the attack of aerosols and gaseous fumes, fumes if you too are stupid equate asphyxia inside sand-dunes your tongue is getting numb...Chloral Hydrate, Nitrates of various ilk, dastardly filaments; unaccounted-for pain, in your organs. hear the wretch of their handbrake on the dispatched car which took only as long as it has taken to type from the start of this paragraph. My phone is a auto, 10,000 times a second jumping spook...I am a ghost to those who attempt either triangulation (artillery-style) will be chasing a stuffed rabbit. I am the perfect stone of loan, I am the granted honed-up blade the icy cascade; the meteor, the seething, mad, screaming turk who in 1977 prevented David Bowie from sleeping: I am weeping at the congress of events...it isn't now;...I see it down the path. HOWEVER, I HAVE SEEN IT I HAVE GLEANED ITS' VITALITY, ALL OF THE INSIGHT I NEED FACTUALLY, to unnaturally effect, and affect, subject. Dire consequences may await: BUT UNCERTAINTY is my shield full of holes....MY POSSIBILITY, my IN-CONGRUENCY ⁃ I feel like there are too many horror stories to tell to bother...as in the one l nights ago when kids were getting kick pretending to push a stroller (pram) into the street in front of cars...I knew I was going to fast...they mistimed it with me...but the truck behind me had its' drier screaming "YOU fuckers, fuck you"! and hold down his horn in anger at the scare they gave him. THIS IS WHAT KIDS END UP DOING for fun WHEN THEY LIVE IN PLACES LIKE SANTA MARIA, CALIFORNIA. ⁃ This place has drawn pain indescribable from me; I shudder to think of that which it has done to those who do not make it their first mission in life to escape this BLACK HOLE....something no light can from escape. to which all around is pulled toward until it is crushed in every imaginable manner.....my early Death wait here like all the "unlit minds" replete with ill-derived, conceived and no reprieve as you will someday know manipulations of words of power so YOU then the wielder. Fuck You, fuck you, no rape you dead, rapist Town, Santa Maria. ⁃ It seems that only a place named after the "Mother of God" could end up so deranged. I, for one reason or another, can construe and continue hatred for THIS place. ⁃
, action equaling distraction from TALKING ENDLESSLY instead of acting. When actors badly pretend to be soldiers: I want to kill them...show them what hand to hand, life or death combat really is, have, you been shot at? I haven't,..I've a loaded cocked revolver against my head. It was held by my hand and I was 10 years old. And 11, and 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20...I was ready every goddamned time. I would smile thinking of my brains sliding down the wall; my consciousness coming to a halt...seeing a white light and getting to die, finally. It is relief to not feel such a need Life is different now.,..everyone dies; I just know tat it , for me, will not THIS way occur. I am, though;..I am not afraid to die, really. I lost any capacity to permit myself the fear that goes along with what IS the truth for everyone. YOUR LIFE COULD END at ANY time. To calculate the probability is masturbation. The only thing to do is to either OFF yourself or MAN the FUCK UJP. Were I to live for as long as they say I maybe could....I have only 90 years of this. I am one who has experienced 4 years in the space of 7.?? hours. I was born, lived and died as a child with brown hair, a little boy, who ..I, died of stomach cancer. I felt every detail...experienced everything. I recall "my Mother", her flaxen hair, long, done up, simply, with bobby-pins, hair. She wore lots of flowing white. It suited her. "My father" was a man, who if he had to be described, looked a little bit like Eric Stoltz, but with darker, more medium-brown hair. He couldn't look at me without crying after I got sick. I know no details like names or places...I had the perspective of a child. I will speak of this more if asked. If you don't give a shit...don't....glad the rest.; would rather spout bullshit than speak to a mute, and unresponsive as if I were talking to a wall audience. FEEDBACK.....I make a well-pickuped' guitar do it so well I can ,ake it sing the star spangled banner for you, but I can't DO IT AT ALL, NONE OF IT. I AM LAYING IN A HOTEL HALLWAY bleeding to death and you walk by as I speak, "Call 911" while coughing out my lungs. I am borne, infected as bastard-fake host of the insurrection I didn't know existed to blow and spread the spores for the whomever and whatever terror organization WHORE, what a fucking bore. Turn on the news get the down-home Delta-Helluva Helter-Skelter Melted Blues. Don't Confuse...You are just being used I am in a place that know no bounds of any kind. Death-row or superstardom are equally likely places for me to exist in/at/of the end of the "day" that will be 2012. ...., accomplishments. I am asked fir accomplishments. I got some more scars. I am forbidden, by law, to talk about that which I feel I must with family members as per my chance of losing my inheritance.....an ugly, or wrong word spoken is enough...and then I am disowned...legally. I do plan to maybe change my name, as it is simply not mine. Peterson belonged to the man whose namesake I am, My Grandpa Peterson; who was an amazing, loving, ABSOLUTE GENIUS of a variety that simply isn't "made" any longer. That we were not genetically related made it, to me all the more VITAL and INCREDIBLY Special that we shared such incredibly close interests. I didn't know when I was a very small child (3?) that the thing he was building and working on in the corner was using and would be a huge part, in the technology he was using, ..early incarnations of MIDI, which he replaced with newer and newer and better, etc, incarnations of the tech. He had REAL instruments attached that were trigger-able (are still; it resides at The California Polytechnic Institute At San Luis Obispo., AKA, Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo. If ever, the organ were not held in esteem and bothered to be maintained; I would be VERY quick to obtain a court order mandating that it be released into my custody,
It is absurd, in a way, I suppose..but that I am now registered with ASCAP as a writer, composer, etc..and that we are soon to be able to publish under our own name...it feels like an accomplishment, in some way. The fact that (ASCAP) can be put underneath our song credits is somehow exciting to an idiot like me. Believe me...I know how silly it is. I think my mind is going anywhere it possibly can to avoid thinking that i will be thirty years of age when I wake tomorrow. I can TRY not to let it bother me....and I will...but; well, let us just say I'll be medicated as much as I possibly require today and tomorrow....it is my right, beyond anything else. While on that subject: I am VERY impressed with Ruderalis Cannabis strains. They are INCREDIBLY easy to grow, do so VERY fast, and produce (if the example I have is typical [a indica/Ruderalis Hybrid that autoflowers and requires almost no knowledge of how to prune for maximum yield, etc. You plant a seed, it can grow in a pot, literally, inside as long as it is in a window. Miracle Grrowe works....You'd be amazed. I am a person who is sometimes irritated by "recreational" pot smokers..or at least those with a certain attitude. It is obvious they do not grasp how much someone like me needs Cannabis as medicine....my poor appetite, depression and severe anxiety..enough to cause my heart,(when not able to use Cannabis as well as my prescriptions from two Specialists(I am a sickly little shit, at least in my own way: I am not as healthy as I COULD be, unfortunately else, I am thankful for the health I have...have maintained under circumstances of what MUST be damage to my organs and other various internal structures as a result of years of being a "Guinea Pig"..I have lost count...I lost count years ago of all the meds I have been prescribed for each quantifiable condition. An estimate would place it above 50, easily...beyond that, I do not know..nor do I want eat my words), and beyond all. The point is I suppose...were I denied enough of my other medications to get me "through, as in having a "schedule" to withdraw from the drug without difficulty.....were I not permitted Cannabis...I would die forom malnutrition, due to simple lack of appetite, lack of capacity to control the gastrointestinal effects of the medication taken to prevent the side-effect from the hard-core painkiller I've been taking for 4 years...so, I'd stop eating, get the shits beyond all history and then desiccate and promptly die. Were the Feds to pull THIS kind of bullshit...they'd be better off putting a bullet through my window, straight through my brainstem.
The walls around the places I've lived have had holes puched in them when the 'occaision' called for it. I was unable to continue hitting walls, so I started hitting walls that my fitst could not break: walls made of stone, concrete/cement, brick. The level to which I can harm somehthing with my fist makes it so I hope a judge will take mercy if I attempt to defend myself and mine, and end up killing someone. This is why I carry a stun-gun (which I tried on myself...so I feel a lot safer after feeling 1 million volts go through me..MUCH safer... It isn't what is thought, I guarantee...it is what is expected to be the case: but it jiust fuckjing isn't.....I am so fucking tired of constantly being TOTALLY not understood that I'd nearly enter a monastery and make a lifelong vow of silence. I am ONLY misunderstood, it seems. Rather; I am misunderstood when others have issues that somehow involve me/I'm asked about....the problem exists that I apparently cannot say that which is the "correct thing....and to expect the same lack of desire to disappoint my employer(s)...I'd some to work, or school or whatever it may be even if I were not UP to it....I'd do it to avoid the guilt I'd inflict on myself for "slacking off".... I, unfortunately, realize I can rely on myself in regard to most of that which occurs in this project and I am dismayed by that fact.....Ii suppose it is half that and half that I know we are NOT where we should be after such a long existence, which if compressed makes 12 or 13 into probably 5 to 7. I don't know, nor do I know if i care if that makes a difference positive or negative.
I didn't see this project, after its' first incarnation, as "primarily" mine, as in I am the main creative force (not my words.thought) This put a massive load of pressure upon me...;..it is just the way I am I guess. I blame not even myself for a thing,... I'd wish for simple transparency about all things. I feel someone has taken a meat-tenderizer to my mind.
ABd and and, I'd, JOLT= I will killed by falling glass.....; I say, while pointing to the cop behind the wheel, I've Got him, while then pointing at you and then at the second cop, waiting for a nod or sign of recognition. We then pounce, I grab the wheel, crash the car, being sure the cops are unconscious..grab their sidearms, their shotgun and using their keys, the M-16 in the trunk along with immediately putting on their tactical vests to make it harder to take us out with snipers from a Helicopter or staged emplacements.
⁃ I am struck with the thought that many see things with a vibrancy that many other will never know...there is the average, and there is the , presumably, low-serotonin type who is depressed all the time due MOSTLY to bad sleep/eat/eliminate patterns....if you have ever been TRULY constipated (anyone who has had to be on Opiate-derived painkiller likely knows exactly what I am talking about, or if you have done Heroin (its' a brand name, it deserves capitalization).. The point is; it is possible to have your vomit reflex quite literally triggered by pressure from your bowels......it is a bad sign and a very unpleasant experience: you body screams at you to "rectify" the situation. If you are lucky, you have latex gloves or finger-cots (of you were/are doing heroin, you likely have this crazy, relative uncommon shit (i.e. finger-cots) around your house already...if no, don a glove and some KY (ONLY USE A LUBE THAT IS INERT...as in no "Motion Lotion, etc'..I would hope that'd be obvious. One must, as this point do what is called "Digitating"...where you simply put a digit (finger) up your ass and literally pull the shit out. When impacted: guess what, some nurse you don't know is doing THIS, WITH THEIR FINGERS in many cases, as voiding the lower bowel creates space for more waste to come through, thereby (hopefully with no need for TOO many actuations of this process as it is fucking disgusting (I know from personal experience...and I am not ashamed to say that...it is testament to the power of RX drugs, especially..in this case of the SIDE EFFECTS. ⁃ The thing is, regarding Opiates, is that it, at your brain, temporarily destroys the capacity of you intestines to move. They are more or less paralyzed as per their own natural peristaltic .action, not to mention that the opiate sucks fluid out of the feces that is already inside of you, and more or less ready to be expunged...but it'll effect that which is already there (that is precisely why Immodium A.D. can cause what you know to be diarrhea rumbling in your gut into what ends up becoming a small solid... The reason this works: Immodium is an Opiate...or rather Opioid as it is entirely synthetic. It simply bypasses everything but the center that naturally-occuring Opiates touch as a seeming side-effect, but a medicinally VERY useful effect. A person can save their own life by using the poppy responsibly. The promise of responsibility is something that addiction makes impossible for most. If you have Diarrhea, and after the primary load of "infection" is gone..had James K. Polk been dosed properly with, hell..light up a pipe and have him smoke some hash for his stomach, and the Opium to stop the Diarrhea /Kill the intense pain from cramping...(which the cannabis product [which would have been 100% legal at the time].....History could have been a different story: i.e. James K. Polk doesn't basically die on the commode. I wonder what consequences a seemingly small (by this point in time) may have caused consequences entire unintended and Earth-shatteringly different from that which we know....the beauty is that there will, via extreme parallel processing and its' ever-growing capacity....some day be a way to see what WOULD have happened IF. IF? If? IF? IF? If is a beautiful question that has a gorgeous infinitude of answers.... ⁃ If is truly a motherfucker of a question. The ultimate and/or the MOST inconsequential. ⁃ The Biggest and the smallest all in a word comprised of ONLY 2 letters............ if. Its' beautiful in its' own way..
A mountain of that which was male, but had no actual male features aside from a deep voice, decided to walk into traffic and, because my car was ALREADY THERE, he decided to HIT my damned car with his fat fist. I unfortunately did not get out and hurt him (it would have been interesting to see 6.8 million volts travel through such a huge body. He was about 5 ' 5" at most, and easily weighed 400 lbs. There was no way he wasn't diabetic of second type....this is just another example of what will again not have to be tolerated upon leaving this place. I know that many live in worse places; but this is no idyllic paradise by any measure. I have to simply acknowledge and thank our fans and their presence and growth; thanks to those with our Android app and keep spreading it about...it will keep changing and doing new things, including nerw tracks. When our LP is complete...we will permit the "Online, Electronic Release to stream...but to hear the other songs...it WILL be necessary for people to digitize and pirate..or, we hope, to buy our LP or CD, Physically, to "throw a few more dollars our way" as a means of your support of our work. I can promise you that this is our best work, by far, to date. I am proud of every note and...when we are finished...a date we will not set as of yet..I am almost positive you will see what I mean and hear that we have maintained our "punk ethic", so to speak, while intentionally reaching further in our songwriting..., as well as "going backward" in terms of building a track that has become far more elaborate than punk "stylistically" permits from a very simple "punk" riff. The reference to punk is simply n our blood. We have never seen the other side of the poverty line (not as kids at least)..save for the low...we are energized by "vitriolic" music. We use everything and anything and are fans of music that couldn't be more antithetical.., but that is a result of many many years intense study and analysis on both our parts of EVERY style of music in existence under the sun. The ethic, the punk ethic we followed by necessity at the start. We have lots more gear now, but..we get an idea that is 10,000,00o miles from ANYTHING tried...Ad Hoc all of a sudden becomes relevant/experienmce in the like certainly helps over the years (in recording/live performance, last-minute fixes). Our sound, at times reflects this....but largely not. I intend only to explain from whence I come when I refer to "punk". I can only speak for myself....I'. ertain Benny sees things differently; but that is likely why we work well together...we bring each others' idea of a song to MORE middle ground...a synthesis of styles has luckily (knock on proverbial wood) always worked.... Cheers and Thanks and PLEASE SPREAD OUR APP LIKE A SUPER-BAD STRAIN OF VIRULENT HERPES...PLEASE!!!! WE REALLY NEED THE EXPOSURE. --Nick-Gerald Peterson
As I sit watching the episode of South Park entitled, "Die, Hippie, Died" I smile and reflect on the 99%, the Occupy Movements worldwide now, and dumb fucking retard lay-about assholes with LOUD mouths. I refer to people who do NOTHING or damn-close to nothing to contribute to progressive, REAL-WORLD ways of their world better. There is nothing but disgust and hatred in my brain and Heart, Nay, Soul for idiots who actually are stupid enough to think they can change the world by SITTING AROUND! If it isn't a dead-obvious ruse to keep youth INACTIVE, then I can't have any faith in the intelligence of "My Generation" (which did nothing but reject me...even when I was young/dumb enough to 'buy in' just for some friends) My Generation is Degenerate. It is comprised (the loudest ones) of simple idiots. Those who love to be LOUD about something; but do NOT actually understand an iota of that which they protest against, nor that the fashion of their so-called "protest" is a tried and true FAILURE of a method. It worked against the British in India....and that is IT. Now, that being said...WHY did Ghandis' method work against the Brits? Answer: The Brits demanded "order": and "being proper", etc. and recognizing the Queen, of course. All it takes, as Peter Griffin felled Rodginald by simply saying "penis", is the right defiance at the right moment...and for ANYONE to think that Hippie tactics will do anything but annoy and show the empty-headed "movement" attempting..what?? Can you tell me? Who of you 99%, Occupy folks (percentage) can elucidate WHY you doing what you doing? I ask this question genuinely, as I see not a proactive thing being done: I see a bunch of folks laying around being IN THE FUCKING WAY/ i.e. bloody annoying, and that is all...just fucking annoying. You had an opportunity to take action in a way that COULD have mattered: you have failed....have a nice time accomplishing nothing, [save for hopefully learning more effective ways of accomplishing the goals set before you and yours] in the rain.