Sunday, June 30, 1991

Part One, the sacraments ('91 - In which I begin a rough outline for my new religion)

Part One, the sacraments. 

1. Music in all forms is sacred. Listening to music is spiritually redeeming. All music shall be appreciated for its value in redeeming, soothing and pleasing the human spirit. Even country western shall be tolerated for this reason. Rule Number One in the Personal Ethics section establishes this premise. Although all music is sacred, some music is more sacred than others in that I, personally, find it to be so. Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, and the Grateful Dead are foundation stones of the faith. Without their music, none of us would exist. Music is to be enjoyed freely, and at whatever volume suits the listener, provided no other life forms are threatened or severely annoyed. A man should be in harmony with his environment. More will come up on this subject later.
 
2. Beer. On this subject, much needs to be said. Beer is great. I find that three or four or five or six beers to be rewarding and satisfying. That's me. People of smaller frame may need to limit consumption, and conversely, those of larger frame may consume more freely. Persons driving motor vehicles should watch what the hell they are doing, regardless of how much they have consumed. If you are going to drink and drive, do it right. Don't swerve, it's a bust. Don't run into other people and kill them, what have they done to be run into by you? Good beer should be sold cheap, after all, those who consume the most beer are usually living at the poverty level already, the should at least be able too drink good beer.*
 
 
** The typewriter ink ribbon ran out at this point, so I never finished constructing my religion

The monkey peed green today ('94, I suppose - margins reflect large handwriting on standard graph paper - errors intact)

The monkey peed green today 
as if afraid that his penis would shrivel up. 
Now he begins to push different levers. 
He is sick of the monotony of endless 
gratification through T.V., masturbation, 
food, and marijuana. He begins to 
see a definite prison, an unbearable 
sameness to everyday. He tries to fight 
this, to enact the pleasure principal. But 
he is bored with all the things that he 
once enjoyed. He looks for something to 
break the monotony. An idea, like an ax-handle 
slams itself into the forefront of his semi-
conscious organic brain tissue. It alivens.

Act One, scene 1 ('91 approximate, typed graph paper original script idea)

Act One, scene 1

 

The curtain opens on an alley scene. Two bums are leaning seated comfortably with their backs against a red, black and white collage which is supposed to remind everyone of the old style building backsides so common in the inner city. There is a spray painted dumpster nearby which lays claim to ownership by seven local street gangs. Trash, overflowing from the dumpster, covers the surrounding area like a blanket of snow. As one glances around the scene, from the street light in the center stage to the dumpster in the back ground to the bums at center stage right it becomes clear that this is a very average alley except in one respect. The bums are watching a 35 inch color T.V. with a remote control and four speaker surround sound. They are playing a casual game of cribbage and commenting on every third news story. On the television the newscaster is being shown dancing topless on the newsdesk, squatting occasionally to pick up another story. The bums simultaneously turn their heads to the T.V. screen and then back away in disinterest. Sex means nothing to them.

 

Bud  (Bum1)

Eye doen know bout chew but eye cain stain lookit her no mower.

 

Bartholomew (Bum 2)

Ewe got that rye-t. Warnst in a wile i gitst t'wherest Ike 'ud gista 'bout puke. She's worse...

 

(Bum 1) Way Worst!

Bum 2) Got to be... 

Hello. ('91 typewritten on graph paper, original typos intact)

Hello. Please allow me to introduce mysel. I am a man of wealth and taste. Ha! That's a joke son. No, I am a very wealth and dignified man about town. I am fifty, sport a grey beard and spectacles and am very fond of pretending to be a blind and helpless old man This is just a ruse I use for picking up the ladies. Somting in my slightly spastic walk that really turn them on. Hey, hey, hey. That what I say.

Monday, June 24, 1991

Vio-lation (1991 rap song)


YOU are an addict and the faster you realize it....the faster... the faster...the faster...

uh, uhh, uuuhhh-nkkk! kkk! kk-

kept alive by the sound of music, pulsating, racing, I'm always spacing, quietly gracing, never retracing.

My steps. I have no regrets, I never forget and I take what I get. Forget the rest. Get dressed. Get out on your Quest.

Your own self don't sit on shelf. Ya got a problem? Well go ____  yourself.

Uh, uuhh, uuhhh-nk!

YOU are in direct violation! You are indirect. In vio-vio, vio-lation. A child's sensation, annihilation of negation and just the right amount of free procreation.

That's nice. I got no vice. I'm on ice. I play my life like the roll of the dice.

No direction--no retrospection. I'm just tryin' to spread a little affection. No need to mention, I'm not tryin' to attract any attention. That's your convention.

I'm not volunteering. I just want a fair hearing. You can't control the car if you just let go the steering. The crowd is cheering or is it jeering? No difference to me cause I ain't the one appearing.

You are in vio-violation. You-you you are inviolate of the code. You have no helmet on your cat. You could go to jail for that.
Jail for that.
Jail for that.
Jail for that.