just like salt

she's all salt, only loved when its cold out,
pressed flat by echos and silloheutes;
she sunk beneath the yoke of a jaundiced sky
always boasting its vicegrip clamp
on her blunted maws, ever
more wasted, this cure for starving hollows,

on a centerway night, a brazen
limbo of wax and wane, she drank
up the moon, only to brood in her silver lattice
of smoke and mirrors. she's all corners,
in this undulating heep of leches. she's minded
nothing of a storm inking through her veins

always only waiting. a stranger carried in
on the lupine swagger of a low tide undertow,
his hands were made to carve a wrecking
ball from his bones. he's all sauce,
no spectre, strangling his whisper, "girl,
you better not hibernate your heart."

now: in a skim pinch of weeks
her eyes burn like cherries in the pitch.
And in the shatter of her edificed stupor.

she dances,
this naked devil.

Bad Review, what??

Album%20review%3A%20Kings%20of%20Leon%2C%20'Come%20Around%20Sundown'

"In search of the grandiose, Kings of Leon seem to have forgotten how to rock. It’s as if the quartet wanted to become the next U2 so badly that it lost sight of how it got here in the first place. Propulsion, hooks, sexiness, songs – all abundant on the band’s first and best album (“Youth and Young Manhood” in 2003) -- are missing in action."

Definitely did NOT dig this review at ALL. Even though I wish they still would pursue shit with their crucial, raw sound, they still make excellent music.

Anyyyway, how excellent would it be to go to this show? maybe i can accidentally happen to make my epic journey to the westcoast while J is in FL. . good way to distract myself

Actually..

The best kings of leon experience I've had might have to be their show back in 2006 with Incubus, the pretenders, lets see who else was there.. Iggy Pop! who told my friend she had a nice ass (in front of her dad, mind you). .. This was a crazy night.

Even better K.o.l story!

This picture is totally worth a thousand words, but it will suffice to describe the context: Bonnaroo 2010, my first real festival. I hadn't known any of these girls until this crazy southside tango trip to TN, and then there was the Kings of Leon adventure: We'd just lost sweeney, we were all in a different... "chemical" conditions, and this picture really just hits the nail on the head in terms of our collective.. mind state.

So funny story...

Real quick, just another note: my boyfriend just walked in on me trying to record "dusty" for the vimeo video submission. he definitely snuck up on me and he heard me bout to jump on the most hornin K.O.L. song (next to soft, maybe... i want you too? that black guy with that downstairs gift situation). come to think of it, this band may be the perfect candidate for a sex playlist, no?

definitely also just found a picture we took from the bathroom at ram's head live when K.o.l came back in 2007!

Kings of Leon Contest!

All about at least trying to win this Kings of Leon joint and rack up some crucial points. I can't believe I had the chance to meet them when I was 17 (in a casino nonetheless!). I bet Sam wouldve been all over that London shit. Too bad she's a nutjobweirdo now that accuses people of nonsense, but its all good! cuz there's always the slight possibility of marijakarma actually making its way into the world.

Nothing. Not REally.

signs and symbols
on eyelids drooping
behind a paned glass window
unpained, and pending closure--
these are mine. lights
flicker on. flicker off. across

the street, it is lonely tonight,
damp with the mourning
the sky must be cradling
in its burgeoning brow.

a monochromatic dinner
too bright to eat today,
departs from its steam,
while a patchwork lazy-boy
holds me up in front of it.

everything is backwards today,
some things are flatlined. other
things, in shadows and shades
just beyond the reach of the visible
spectrum, dry-heaving their drama.

sleep is more catatonic, and dreams, those self
same images blearing across the day’s ellipsis,
though only on beta waves and spindles.

static crunches both the screen of the television
and the lanky veins that should bulge somewhere
under my copper-plated skin.

limbic phenomena fails me now,
as the calm solipsism of dementia settles in,
and i’ll stay behind this window in the pearled
armory of my pupils, with that ancient luster
dissolving, and letting logic dry up,
decrepit and
arrhythmic.