bored.
im back at school and waiting for classes. in a few minutes i guess ill break out 'ole max weber and do some readin. yeah. hahah.das oath; touring and releasing in april (roughly). i just saw pictures of them from a recent european show. aparently they are neck-beard hippie fucks now. check this shit tight bro:
other good music type stuff coming soon to look forward to. some associates from far off places should be visiting within the next few days. oh snap. panthers tonightttt. tight dude. plenty of pretentious bullshit reading to do lately. does that fucking interest you? i got new sheets. cats are everywhere. tamora is back on sunday. im bored. some of my classes are actually good. will actually challenge me to think, not just process and rematerialize in a mundane group project where we all orgasim on eachothers faces and praise a dead philosopher of the enlightenment who has since been laughed on for his stodgy, unsubstantiated conservativism. i am not a fan of edmund burke.
i have been entertaining myself the last 5 minutes on das oath site. sorry.
Manifest-oh-no!!!!!
Hark! Dawn of tomorrow's legion of doom is upon us: Das Oath! Recorded, inserted and rendered into one economically feasable buzzkill unit, right before your weary red rimmed undiscerning eyes. Hear how: useless sardonic mantra for your time and inconvenience! Das fucking Oath. Our apologies, the dark luminous cloud cast over the prosperity of things to come in the anthemless decade before us. Alas! Cast deep in your pockets for loot to buy into the belief that the pending diatribes and some moron's half baked ideas can be yours as well! Simply repackage, retitle, patent and ta daa!! And the process of slurring yourself with well worn cliches. Take the leap. Consider yourself the definition of the ageless, the new system, where the product is even larger than your big mouth (yours meaning the one you swallow with) and so, when asked to play the part, painfully over emulate the young down to earth arena rocker in a series of lucrative poses and primo photo op's. In a torrential blase blaze of sheer emotive melo drama, your asshole-ness will merly be but a parchment of mis-experience: a wrinkled, nicotine ridden, jangly jowled, poofy eyebagged, self parody quiz show, perpetually spun to keep us constantly guessing (oh please do never tell!) of just how the hell you manage to stay on top of all of us, all years to cum! It is you who indeniably offers the transparant sort of pressure that the camera just cannot ignore and if luckily will garuntee your face on every bag of doritos and 2 liter of diet pepsi. This side of civilization! Actionless taped sensibilities, pre-programmed usgae of urban dialect and fashion topics of which are all tooled to please a well defined invisible audience in this manner you will have revitalized the 'star' system. Churn out a hollow likeness to parrot lines and flash toothy grins at while, decked out to the tune of mysterious japanese character ankle tattoos teased pixie cuts and marked up thrift store apparel. Hark! Prepare to disqualify. So quickly they arrive in droves. Salivating like dogs, knowing they're getting exactly what they got the last time around (james bond only fucks hot chicks) the moves you make are too caculated to feel the surge of an identity. Outdated in the thoughts you think, every waking day will simply repeat it's predecesor with each passing moment no more than a rusting screw in the frame work of your particularly charming personality.
from the same place. entertaining.
other good music type stuff coming soon to look forward to. some associates from far off places should be visiting within the next few days. oh snap. panthers tonightttt. tight dude. plenty of pretentious bullshit reading to do lately. does that fucking interest you? i got new sheets. cats are everywhere. tamora is back on sunday. im bored. some of my classes are actually good. will actually challenge me to think, not just process and rematerialize in a mundane group project where we all orgasim on eachothers faces and praise a dead philosopher of the enlightenment who has since been laughed on for his stodgy, unsubstantiated conservativism. i am not a fan of edmund burke.
i have been entertaining myself the last 5 minutes on das oath site. sorry.
Manifest-oh-no!!!!!
Hark! Dawn of tomorrow's legion of doom is upon us: Das Oath! Recorded, inserted and rendered into one economically feasable buzzkill unit, right before your weary red rimmed undiscerning eyes. Hear how: useless sardonic mantra for your time and inconvenience! Das fucking Oath. Our apologies, the dark luminous cloud cast over the prosperity of things to come in the anthemless decade before us. Alas! Cast deep in your pockets for loot to buy into the belief that the pending diatribes and some moron's half baked ideas can be yours as well! Simply repackage, retitle, patent and ta daa!! And the process of slurring yourself with well worn cliches. Take the leap. Consider yourself the definition of the ageless, the new system, where the product is even larger than your big mouth (yours meaning the one you swallow with) and so, when asked to play the part, painfully over emulate the young down to earth arena rocker in a series of lucrative poses and primo photo op's. In a torrential blase blaze of sheer emotive melo drama, your asshole-ness will merly be but a parchment of mis-experience: a wrinkled, nicotine ridden, jangly jowled, poofy eyebagged, self parody quiz show, perpetually spun to keep us constantly guessing (oh please do never tell!) of just how the hell you manage to stay on top of all of us, all years to cum! It is you who indeniably offers the transparant sort of pressure that the camera just cannot ignore and if luckily will garuntee your face on every bag of doritos and 2 liter of diet pepsi. This side of civilization! Actionless taped sensibilities, pre-programmed usgae of urban dialect and fashion topics of which are all tooled to please a well defined invisible audience in this manner you will have revitalized the 'star' system. Churn out a hollow likeness to parrot lines and flash toothy grins at while, decked out to the tune of mysterious japanese character ankle tattoos teased pixie cuts and marked up thrift store apparel. Hark! Prepare to disqualify. So quickly they arrive in droves. Salivating like dogs, knowing they're getting exactly what they got the last time around (james bond only fucks hot chicks) the moves you make are too caculated to feel the surge of an identity. Outdated in the thoughts you think, every waking day will simply repeat it's predecesor with each passing moment no more than a rusting screw in the frame work of your particularly charming personality.
from the same place. entertaining.