Bared Feet and Teeth

I started this blog as a time-filler, and a place to exercise my neglected- since-University writing skills. It’s become, lately, more something I struggle to find time for; and while the semblance of structured life it gives me may be imbibed with some inherent value, it tends to actually take me away from writing projects I’d rather be focusing on. Besides, I find myself increasingly unequal to the patience, moderation and dedication required for consistency’s sake, owing to personal concerns. Nor do I wish it to become filled with bitter ravings and emotional rants, at this stage. So. I’m putting it on hold..again, for a month or so to begin with. If I decide to return, it’ll be with renewed vigour and and entertainment value. Until then, take care.

~BFat

PS: I’ve disabled comments so I don’t come back to reams of spammage. Deal with it.

 

Fifty bucks in gas, three fruitless rolled-rims, and a dozen rabid elk from home, I land on the doorstep of my oldest remaining friend and the realm of domesticity. I’ve decided, given the bizarre circumstances I find myself in, to record a diary of the weekend, to better examine this watershed in our diverging life paths and perhaps unearth some humour. Also, it’s ten o’clock and everyone is asleep. Read the rest of this entry »

This week. I’m buggering off to Calgary for to swallow my shame regarding the Western Conference standings and take a look at this kid a friend of mine had while I was away. I should be back in time for next week’s. Peace.

 “I don’t know you. The only thing I know about you is, you’re reading this. I don’t know whether you’re happy or not. I don’t know whether you’re young or not. I sort of  hope you’re young and sad. If you’re old and happy, I can imagine that you’ll maybe smile to yourself when you hear me going, He broke my heart. You’ll remember someone who broke your heart and you’ll think to yourself, Oh, yes, I can remember how that feels. But you can’t, you smug old git. Oh, you might remember feeling sort of pleasantly sad. You might remember listening to music and eating chocolates in your room, or walking along the Embankment on your own, wrapped up in a winter coat and feeling lonely and brave. But can you remember how with every mouthful of food it felt like you were biting into your own stomach? Can you remember the taste of red wine as it came back up and into the toilet bowl? Can you remember dreaming every night that you were still together, that he was talking to you gently and touching you, so that every morning when you woke up you had to go through it all over again? Can you remember carving his initials in your arm with a carving knife? Can you remember standing too close to the Underground platform? No? Well, fucking shut up, then. Stick your smile up your saggy old arse.”

- Nick Hornby. A Long Way Down. Riverhead Books, NY. 2005. pp 44.

This week is a bit different. The recommendation I’m making is based on pure aural-pleasure. I’d never bothered to translate the lyrics until now. That’s not to say the lyrics arent good, they’ve actually proven entirely engaging, it’s just that in any poetry something is lost with translation and I’d never felt the need to understand in order to enjoy. So, my song choices are based entirely on sound and texture, while my lyric choices will be based on found translations that could be entirely incorrect.

RAMMSTEIN - MUTTER

Richard Kruspe - Guitar 
Paul Landers - Guitar
Till Lindemann - Vocals
Flake Lorenz - Keyboards
Oliver Riedel - Bass
Christoph Schneider - Drums

While trading in a lot of their earlier synthesized sound for killer guitar licks and womb rattling drum beats, the band loses none of its ominous heat in this album. The sound is heavy, and darkly emotional with haunting orchestral movements layered under Lindemann’s gutteral vocals. This album alone boasts songs to fuck to, crash your car to, and stare blankly into the dark over a bottle of gin and a spluttering candle to. The band is currently off my radar, having released their ‘Voelkerball’ CD/DVD collection last year.

Best Songs:

#1 - Mein Herz Brennt

 

#7 Spieluhr

 

#9 - Rein Raus

 

Best Lyrics:

“I am the voice from the pillow
I have brought you something
I ripped it from my chest

With this heart I have the power
To blackmail the eyelids
I sing until the day awakes
A bright light on the heavens
My heart burns”

………

“The tears of a crowd of very old children
I string them on a white hair
I throw the wet chain into the air
and wish that I had a mother
no sun shines for me
There was no breast that cried milk
There is a tube that sticks in my throat
I have no navel on my stomach”

……

“A small human only pretends to die
It wanted to be completely alone
The small heart stood still for hours
So they decided it was dead
It is being buried in wet sand *
With a music box in its hand”

……

“I am alone but not alone
I can be together with myself
Early I kiss my reflection
And at night I fall asleep with myself
When the others searched for girls
I could already fertilize myself
I am not even downhearted then
When one tells me “fuck yourself”"

……

“Deeper, deeper
Say it! Say it loud!
Deeper, deeper
I am well within your skin
And a thousand elephants break out

The ride was short
I am sorry
I climb off
I have no time
I must go now to the other horses
They also want to be ridden”

……

“They stand with their arms tightly around each other
A mixture of flesh, so rich in days
Where the sea touches the land
She wants to tell him the truth

But the wind eats her words
Where the sea ends
She holds his hand, trembling
And kissed him on the forehead

She carries the evening in her chest
And knows that she must wither away
She lays her head in his lap
And asks for a last kiss

And then he kissed her
Where the sea ends
Her lips, delicate and pale
And his eyes tear up

The last kiss
Was so long ago
The last kiss
He does not remember it anymore”

I got a new car. And then I found this.

AMMENDMENT: Whilst driving my new car home from the city in the pitch dark, through the mountains (no moon, plenty of switchbacks) my headlights died on me and I almost followed - By which I mean I pulled the car in the direction I believed the shoulder to be, waited for a car to come along and abused its headlights for the last forty km of the drive. Adventure, for the win.

I need opinion, and my friends are too concerned with ‘influencing my decision’ to offer advice. Or they advise outlandish things like Poala farming (Panda-Koala) which is strictly unfeasable given budgetary limitations. Since returning to this beautiful nation of ours, I’ve gone a bit nuts. I bought a new computer, a new (used) car and a year’s worth of insurance, a few hundred dollars worth of books, a few hundred dollars worth of clothes, the sexiest little PDA on the market, and all of the food in town. Now I decide. What do I do with the remainder of my Korean savings?

I’ll have what amounts to $3000.00 CDN just sitting around in the box I buried in the backyard (I don’t believe in bank accounts. Don’t attempt to swindle me). I could invest, but honestly it’s not my style. I didn’t spend a year slogging American Cultural Imperialism and keeping my mouth shut to sit and watch numbers inch their way northwards. I’m far more aroused by the idea of spending it hard and fast, and chucking my wallet away wet and empty after one hell of a ride…before the student loan gestapo tracks me down. But…BUT…I’m torn. Do I drive across the country? Do I Eurotrip for a few weeks? Do I create and distribute my own brand of combination flip-flop mouth-guards? Do I employ personal sherpas or sex-bodies? Or do I, really, tuck it away for a rainy day? I dunno, folks. I do not know.  What would you do?