Monday, January 31, 2011

Happy birthday Philip Glass!


Taintslick: January 2011 mix

 Taintslick: January - 2011 by andreusdwm 

01 panda bear :: atiba song
02 asobi seksu :: trails (holy other mix)
03 purity ring :: ungirthed
04 young galaxy :: we have everything
05 boy friend :: the false cross
06 L.A. vampires x matrix metals :: so unreal
07 lower dens :: dear betty baby
08 women :: bullfight
09 dirty beaches :: lord knows best
10 star slinger :: rene storm
11 :visited :: sunset article
12 network :: the boys and the girls
13 la sera :: devils hearts grow gold

Malachai - Let 'Em Fall

Saturday, January 22, 2011

The Bridge Builder

The Bridge Builder

An old man, going a lone highway,
Came, at the evening, cold and gray,
To a chasm, vast, and deep, and wide,
Through which was flowing a sullen tide.

The old man crossed in the twilight dim;
The sullen stream had no fear for him;
But he turned, when safe on the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.

“Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim, near,
“You are wasting strength with building here;
Your journey will end with the ending day;
You never again will pass this way;
You’ve crossed the chasm, deep and wide-
Why build you this bridge at the evening tide?”

The builder lifted his old gray head:
“Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,
“There followeth after me today,
A youth, whose feet must pass this way.

This chasm, that has been naught to me,
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building this bridge for him.”

By Will Allen Dromgoole

What will your legacy be?

Oboy!


http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1758429/

Watch: http://www.wootly.com/juu3lmhhpocw

TROM documentary

Whoa!

TROM documentary

Yes, please.

STREET BONERS and TV CARNAGE » OLD NEW YORK HARDCORE PHOTOS

STREET BONERS and TV CARNAGE » OLD NEW YORK HARDCORE PHOTOS

The Ramones - I Wanna Be Sedated

Saturday, January 01, 2011

Time wounds, all heals.

When time is a wolf,
the year a pack of
yellow teeth; when one by one
we lay us down, or

stop to kiss goodbyes
when one of us can
run no more, then back into
the trees; when the howls

pause for a moment
to finish those we've
left behind, or pick off the
slowest, the weakest...

When time is a wolf
we bleed in the snow,
we bleed like a trail of crumbs
beneath snow-black skies.

We inhale air dead
as skeleton grass,
we etch the stone-dead air with
pictures of our ghosts

and our stillborn drown
down the wind.
...But this
new year is a horse coursing
off a mountain white
with headwaters, and
green

with dreams of the
sea. When headwaters gallop
to the sea we fall

down the frozen banks
beneath the snow-blue
skies. Bleeding like an altar
we falter into

baptismal waters,
our bodies more scab
than skin. The track climbs into
forests white with bird

song, gold with sun-high
skies. We kneel in the
icing river, wash until
the water runs clean.