I dream of one day watching this movie.
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29Oct
Categories: MOVIEZ, hart@tawdryproductions.com Comments: 0
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24Oct
Categories: MUSIC, hart@tawdryproductions.com Comments: 0
HEY LADY IN THE RED TOP - LARRY STRAWBERRY FISH FUCK
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IM FROM AN ALIEN RACE - LARRY STRAWBERRY FISH FUCK AND FRIENDS (vocals by trick Benson.)
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MY APPARITION.
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24Oct
Categories: hart@tawdryproductions.com, wrting. Comments: 0
Awhile ago my little brother started going to school for writing, we came up with the idea that we’d write a story together, doing a page or three then sending it to the other and he would continue, well were on page twenty now. It hasnt always been a top priority for either of us. But its good I think.
Its about a guy who runs a bar, Teddy Riley is his name, the son of a low end mob boss comes in, the bar is a dive, its called chez la mere, its in montreal, in the east, anyways, things get out of hand, mob son gets killed, father comes asking questions, things get crazy, Teddy gets out, gets girl he is engaged to, June, they run off to costa rica, Teddy Riley gets stung by a jelly fish, now hes in the hospital. Thats a rough idea of it………these are the last few pages i wrote of it……….he wrote the first three paragrahps, what i wrote starts with the heading JUNE.
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CHEZ LA MERE.
After a long silence. ‘Now were even old friend, saved from the same evil.’ Her hand is stroking my arm. If I were a bit more healthier I’d be able to do something with the boner I’m starting to get. Instead I turn to lookinto her sweet eyes, and give her a different kind of sex.
“That bar took more life out of me than working 20 hours a day ever could. All those low lives, and all the shit from Smokey.” I think about beating the last breath out of the sack of shit, and it becomes scary how satisfying and reliving it is. “I gave up al, completely, until one cool day in June a girl came walking into my bar asking for directions in French. I was about to tell her French ass to take a hike when I felt my heart move for the first time in a long while.”
Some tears roll down her cheek as her hand slows down to almost no movement. I can’t think of what else to say, so I sit with her in the silent darkness thinking about how much I love her. So fucking much I can’t say it out loud. Lying with her again helps dull the pain…for the second time in my life.
JUNE.
I walked down to the bar. Watching Teddy like that, his fat stung foot and sweating head. Blinds drawn hiding a shaking man from the ocean that beats against the shore below like a bully slapping his thigh.
Im a good woman, with a man who means well. But even the best of us need a drink.
Its so different at the bar, that dark room made you feel as though you were pressed against a witches bosom in her black cloak. Now the sun is shining. To have a hospital near a beach seems like some sick taunt. All these people laughing in the water while the sick lay listening to their sounds. I can only imagine Teddy up there, bitter, rooting for a jelly fish or hammer head to make quick work of those happy peoples legs and feet and souls. I don’t blame him, but its that attitude that I don’t feel like dealing with right now. This whole mess, Costa Rica, He got himself into this and he got himself out of this, and now im here too wondering what it is, and what im getting out of it. Love, right, that wretched word. People in loves favorite past time is usually watching crime shows on t.v., unsolved mysteries on A and E, celebrities downfalls on Star tv. Other peoples problems, the worlds problems are what hold peoples relationships together. All that four play is like rubbing on a bruise. Space crafts crashing into a mercury vagina. So much heat. I think sometimes paul bernardo and karla hamolkas relationship must be the most fantasized thing in North America by aging married couples. They don’t know it, they sense it though under their alligator exteriors, under those hardened rules and morals of life they live by, that they were taught. Oh to be O.J. on a hot spring night, oh to be Nicole with a bursting neck.
Though I suppose the lonely love soap operas and car accidents.
In French we have a saying, but theres no point in mentiong it, you wouldn’t understand.
The bars going for this whole, how do you say, tiki look. Straw walls. All these natives eyeing me, the white exotic Canadian women. Wait till they hear me talk.
I order the drink. “Excuse me, how do you say, whiskey on the rocks.” I put the French accent on thick for the pepper jacks in the crowd.
He smiles, his teeth to white, a dull animal. Theres many things that are beautiful about the French language. When he speaks, I shake my head as if I cannot understand. It’s a game that is fantastic, I hear every word, and people know, they must know that you know what their saying. But you pay it no mind, for no matter what people think they can never prove whats in your mind, no matter how right they are. I drop the money on the table, throw my long black hair over my shoulder and turn my back, smoothly twisting around on the creaking stool.
I think that was always the problem with teddy. People see what they want to see, and if you don’t give them much they decide for themselves what is in your head. Angel eyes and a beautiful body, so innocent, so in need of protection. Exteriors are the devils thigh, but the mind is his blood soaked muscle inside, pumping in terrible motives and releasing beautiful actions. That blood will clot though, and in one swift movement that leg will jerk, the skin will burst and the truth will reign.
Theres always this thought, that woman are so innocent, so blocked from reality. But even our mothers in their checkered dresses knew the curves of their own vaginas better then the men who looked at them in dirty theatres and dark rooms, they knew the crevices of their minds better then the husbands that tried to control them. You don’t need a mirror to see yourself, just the look in other peoples eyes.
Theres three men at the bar. And so the game begins, who will move in first. I sip the whiskey, it burns, Its not a burn I usually like. But now I do. It makes my throat feel as though I could sing like Aretha franklin. I see one of the men moving forward, And I don’t want to talk, to ruin the illusion of my strong black singing voice.
He sits down letting his eyes hang on me a minute, I give a shy smile and sip from my whiskey. I let out a pretty little cough for effect. The innocent child these mother fuckers all really want to fuck. Im reminded of a line from a song by Larry Strawberry Fish fuck,
You can be my devil
And I will be your hell.
Let me let you sin in peace. He speaks, but I play the French card. This one is quick. He pulls a bag from his pocket, Ziploc and filled with pills. Lots of colors. He is smiling wide now as he sees my eyes on the bag. Hes right I do want one, whatever they are. He reaches in, takes a pill up to his mouth, placing it between his teeth. The teeth have a hint of yellow, letting them blend in with his dark skin. Better then the other one who sucks dentists off for whitening kits. Smiling widely, the pill between his teeth he hisses….Extacy. I only need to nod, though he understands before I even do as he reaches into the bag and brings a pill to my lips letting his fingers linger a moment before I bring the whiskey up finishing it off as I swallow the pill down.
He motions to the bartender ordering two more whiskeys. I grab them both when he arrives draining one in one full gulp. But he only laughs as I pick the other up to sip. The perfect innocent child drunk for the first time.
I feel the pill beginning to work. He is in my ear, he smells like bananas and magpies. He is whispering in a strange tongue, my eyes closing, the sun crawling through my eyelids. I sense his breath on my neck and my nipples start turning lavender with desire.
Jesus, I push off him. And step to the ground. I stumble in the hot sand, expecting cement. There is whiskey in my legs today. I turn my back and quickly walk away. What the fuck am I doing. Teddy is up there near death and im getting high with the banana man. Maybe not even I know whats in my head. Each beam off the sun is filled with little diamonds, everyone is a glare as I push forward. Any moment I expect to hear a yell, someone to pull me back. Finally I turn around, but he is just sitting there watching me struggle in the sand, his mouth a wide grin staring right at me. That fucker.
I walk by the front attendant at the hospital into the stair case, she doesn’t know a thing. Looking up the staircase it looks like the inside of a psychopaths windpipe. The tiel walls are blurring forward, tiel tar on the lungs, smoke is everywhere, or is it, it smells like anesthetic here. My poison berry is yearning for teddy.
TEDDY.
I see a red door and I want it painted black. Isnt that what Mick Jagger said. Well I got the perfect fucking room for him. Right here in sunny costa rica. Junes gone and I cant see a thing. My foot feels marvelous, if marvelous is what you call hell. Come to think of it, Mick Jagger kind of looks like a jelly fish. A jelly fish my wife would like to fuck. June June come home soon. Im no song writer. They say what happens in vegas stays in vegas. Well what happens in the dark will come to the light.
I roll out of the bed and fall with a thud on the ground. I keep my dumb foot in the air. And my right side crashes hard. These wounds will surely be brought to the light, if I ever get to those fucking blinds. Whos my fucking nurse, death metal sue. Im going to find a fucking pentagram carved on my cock head. Junes going to love that. Or maybe she will, I wonder how well I really know her sometimes.
Im dragging my body across the floor. Theres something about dragging yourself by your arms, you cant help but get dramatic. Like your in a war movie. Like your hands are suction cups scaling a huge wall. Moving your hips from side to side, bullets overhead, grunting with each pull as though your pulling a body from a forest fire in etobicoke. Every time I think about that word etobicoke it makes me want to do coke. I pause and reach in my pockets, but there is nothing, so again I resume crossing the linoleum plain.
“You are mine teddy”….there are voices in my head…..they sound like a hissing computer. I cant so much understand the words, more like if you heard a jet engine rumbling and it just made sense. “we control you now”. My fucking leg is throbbing, im so close to the window, but the room is light now. The legs Is glowing pink. What the fuck do these witch doctors have me on. This fucking pain. “Juice, Juice Juice”. Shut the fuck up I scream. My imaginary army training never provided tactical maneuvers for this. My whole body is numb. All this sweat. Goddamnit. “freedom” their screaming now. Who. there is a wretch in my stomach. I cant contain it. Im at the blinds, trying to pull myself up by them. Opening them isn’t even on my fucking broken mind anymore. “Open up Teddddy.” Something hisses and lisps inside my head. I feel like a balloon is ripening in my chest. Right at the solar plexus. Im gagging. I feel it coming up, my mouth opened till the corners of each side feel as though they are going to split to my ears. Then I watch it happen, a pink glob comes up and to the floor. This pink glowing thing. It squirms on the floor then scatters. It’s a fucking jelly fish. What the fuck. “easy teddy, theirs more of us tonight.” Im gagging, and these fucking things keep coming. Pink balls of insanity, scattering around the room and up the walls.
It just keeps happening. One pink glowing jelly fish after the other. The walls are glowing as they fill. Where the fuck are they all coming from, they don’t even feel as though their coming from my stomach. Its like they are coming from my mind, the more I think about it the more they come. “don’t worry teddddy, we wont hurt you, we hurt only what we cant control, and we control you teddy.” That lisping bitch.
The walls are all glowing pink, hissing and clicking. What the fuck were these doctors feeding me. Im gagging but nothing is coming out. Get the fuck out I scream, then It happens, a huge one falls to the floor. He stops and turns and looks at me. Hes different then the others, a real hot shot, hes wearing a black leather jacket. He has no eyes but I know he is looking at me. My knees ache. I immediately know he is the one whos been talking to me, and clearly his name is Steve, hes three years gay. That explains the lisp, I don’t like his motives. FUCK YOU Jelly STEVE. FUCK YOU FAGGOT.
Jelly steve is shaking, his tentacles bopping on the floor. But not in fear, Hes shaking in laughter, tears streaming down my face. Steve is making a fool of me. I reach for the slime of a bitch. His gay ass is quick. And hes gone. I look at all the walls flashing pink, each flash gets brighter and brighter.
It would only make sense that aliens would be hiding in the sea, each sting like a tracking device. No one knows the depths of the ocean. I always figured the bottom of the ocean had portals to space, a strange cycle, a loop. I can picture these jelly fuckers floating around in space giggling at asteroids. What the fuck are they giving me here, angel dust to numb the pain.
The pink flashes brighter still until it turns black. I try to fight it, as I hear a voice screaming my name, it sounds like June but I cant see anything, this is terrible, with a guy like steve in the room, blacking out is the last thing you want to do.
JUNE
I hear sounds from Teddys room, not really cries, I cant explain it. This Extacy is fucking everything up in my head. Walls seem to bend at will. This is no normal E. Im feeling for the door knob. Finally I get It open.
Jesus.
Teddy is at the window on his knees, his leg has lost its marbles. Hes just kneeling there vomiting…………vomiting….jelly fish? I try running over. Their everywhere, this fucked up pink glow. The floor is greased in goo. This must be what its like to be a janitor at the abortion clinic. Ughhhh. Teddy baby, Teddy, what the fuck is going on. Can he hear me, is it me whos crazy. What the fuck. Teddy, for Christs sake, teddy answer me. I see his eyes going bat shit as the pink things keep flopping out. I see him stop as I keep yelling sliding through the goo on my hands and knees. Hes staring at a final shaking one on the floor, in, in a black leather Jacket. The walls are completely covered in these strange pink things now. I watch him collapse as I scream. This larger pink jelly fish in a leather jacket is coming right at me. I reach to strangle him, but get nothing in my grip as I feel a slap. The mother fucker slapped me with his tentacle. What horse shit. But hes gone. Or its gone, I don’t know why I sense a he in it, whatever it is. I crawl towards Teddy, laying there broken down in the pink glow. I put my arms on him, I shake him as the pink fades to black. Im out.
TEDDY
I awake in the room, my body aching everywhere. My head is terrible. June is beside me, the walls and floor are completely clean. No sign of the fuckers. Was it a dream, a hallucination brought on by jelly fish psychosis. Is that a thing? But whats she doing here.
I shake her. June, baby, June. Her eyes open as she looks around frantically. She doesn’t have to say anything, I see it in her eyes. She saw the fuckers too. I say nothing. I kiss her and taste the questions, but my lips offer no answers.
(I hope the story goes as though this never happened, like a night of partying, you drink and talk for hours, then there is one fifteen minute burst of insanity and life goes on……for me at least. Though now im dictating, which ruins the whole point of this process, i am a director.)
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23Oct
Categories: MUSIC, hart@tawdryproductions.com Comments: 0
Now its 2 thirty PM. The song is done, after starting, despising it, vowing never to make music again, then deleting the whole main guitar part………something came out of it………I dont know.
(for some reason whenever i upload it the sound goes to hell. Im done with it.)
MY APPARITION by LARRY STRAWBERRY FISH FUCk.
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23Oct
Categories: hart@tawdryproductions.com, wrting. Comments: 0
(This song came into my head in the shower for some reason at seven am while listening to terrible morning talk radio.)
APPARITION.
In the town
that i come from
theres a ghost
that i know
she wont
say my name
but she knows
that i knowthat she loves me
she loves me
she loves meshe loves me
She reached for my bed
when i was young
and unsure
i couldnt feel anything
i still hold onto heri still hold
i still hold onto her
i still holdShe drips when she moves
like a dog in the rain
her screams are old habit
she doesnt feel painShe moves across
the astral plane
nobodies wife
and nobodies saneno
no nobodies sane
no
no nobodies sane
anymore-
never unpure
nobodies cure
i am a slave
to the whisper
that is herto the whisper
of my appparition
to the whisper
of my apparitionlike a fossil
in stone
Shes got nowhere to go
we’ll go there together
we’ll build a homeThe universe is pulsing
like the throat of a toad
the waves will come crashing
and together we’ll floatwe float
together we float
we floatdown
down
together
we float away. -
22Oct
Categories: hart@tawdryproductions.com, wrting. Comments: 0
The run down laundromat is vacant at eleven am. I load two loads and crack a pabst blue ribbon can. Perfect. After an hour I realize, one of the white washers never started, the bitch. The lid wasnt closed properlly. I slam the thin metal down as the water finally begins to drain on jean sock and shirt. Now i have to urinate.
Theres never washrooms in these things. I ask the variety store next door if theres a bathroom. “im just doing laundry next door, in and out quick quick.” The asian woman with pock marks scowls at me. “no, no, im sorry.” This place where i’ve bought so much beer is left outraged at my desire to leave a little deposit of it back. I run to the alley eyeing the people passing by, sensing their urge to look beautiful in my clothes. No chance prancers, Its safe when i get back to reading and drinking.
Finally im done, the sheets and towels are fine, dry. Still i wait for the clothes, it has been a couple of hours and i need to urinate like a psychopath. How much longer, one menthol only im sure. I’m right. No surprise there. But the clothes are damp, and now my bladder is full and outside it is raining. I walk home quickly jousting with the idea that maybe i should have walked to the further, better, more expensive laundry mat. The bag of clothes damp, the clothes im wearing getting soaked in the rain, and my bladder ready to burst. All this goddamn liquid. And i joust, i parry, i perry. And now i am thinking of perry como. More the episode of SCTV where Eugen Levy plays Perry Como. Old white haired laying on the stage under purple and blue lights, so calm and old he is unable to move. The mic laying near his mouth, his hands not daring to exert the effort of grip, his lips barely moving his body in a state of rigomortis.
Hes singing and hes singing.
I’ve never seen a picture of perry como, I remember a song from the fear and loathing soundtrack, its good. Is it his way of singing their commenting on, that lazy sound of a deep voiced house wife full of sleeping pills, or does he move in a manner to match. Both I assume. But this is the perry como I know, A Eugene version.
Now i string old ethernet wires across my living room from all the old internet connections that have been cancelled over the years. I throw nothing away. A blue perfect clothes line to let it hang. This is my day, and I love you.
(I found the video after this. The part where he just lays on the stage isnt in it here, but i know it is in a version i’ve seen. I think i figured out why, but theres no need to explain it.)
(Heres a perry como song, even in this young picture he looks like he just woke up. Oh hey, I didnt see you there, have you seen me in SCTV in the FUTURE?)
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22Oct
Categories: FILM, hart@tawdryproductions.com, wrting. Comments: 0
I’ve been reading a book called Shock Value, a tasteful book about bad taste. It’s by John Waters and it is him essentially covering his carreer. Rampant with wit and gold.
Heres a monologue Divine delivered to a group of people at a hippie function in San Francisco Just after the Manson murders. It was a gathering called Miss Demeanor and divine was done up in full monstorous drag with huge hair and fake scars all over his/her face for extra effect. The monologue was written by John Waters.
“I am the real Miss Demeanor! I smuggle rotten fruit into California and I eat pounds and pounds of white sugar! I had to come to California because I killed a couple of cops back east! Don’t you realize? I killed Sharon Tate, and they’ve arrested the wrong people! And last week I did it again! I followed a young hippie couple who lived alone with their pets. I waited. I watched. And then I broke into their apartment and stabbed them to death! All I can tell you is that IT MADE ME CUM!!!!!”
Good book.
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19Oct
Categories: MUSIC, documentaries, hart@tawdryproductions.com Comments: 0
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16Oct
Categories: hart@tawdryproductions.com Comments: 0
Im rising from a state of hibernation like a wild beast with crust in its eyes. But on this near zero night in montreal it is a time to remember the fallen. A month and a half ago a good friend of mines cat Diego was put down. Then a day later my family dog Frisko was put down. Then three weeks after that my family cat Lestat, completely out of the blue was put down. And now, three days ago another good friends dog, Rosie the goat was put down.
I remember days drinking in the yard and rosie running in circles on the hunt for the devilish squirrell. Nights in the near field, rosie sprinting into the waist high mist like white lighning, rising at your side just when you thought she was gone. Rosie by the river. Rosie in the yard, Hunting snakes to later be turned into belts (unsuccessfully). The night of mary browns chicken and mclays beer. The goat was tipsy. She was just one of the boys.
All these dead saints. I dont know whats going on, and are we next. But thats too self serving a thought for a time like this. Is this the Apocolypse, and why arent the real suck heads getting it. The world is run by greed and controlled by fear in a self serving cycle of treachery. We never move forward while the good go down. I had no intentions of drinking tonight, but now i must head for the store to light a menthol and raise a glass to the memory of white lightning.
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12Oct
Categories: documentaries, hart@tawdryproductions.com Comments: 0
