surf's up
13 years ago
8.08.2010
the pigeonholes
this is my ....post punk/alternative/indie/whatever band. check out our music and lemme know what you think.
3.01.2010
A Short Story.
A middle aged man walked into his dining room early on a Sunday morning. He knew that he was due at the church in a little over an hour. Still, he decided to sit and have a nip of whiskey and enjoy one more cigarette before going and helping people govern their lives with the immutable word of the Lord.
After downing the whiskey with much haste, he put the brown spotted filter of the cigarette into his still burning mouth. He thought to himself, if only his congregation knew that this is one of the few great pleasures in life. Every Sunday, this pious phony told his followers that their bodies were temples that God built with his bare hands to house their souls until the judgment day.
On his way out the door, the preacher had a bit of a coughing fit, nothing out of the ordinary he thought, until he looked down at his fifty-dollar silk handkerchief that God helped him buy. On it, he saw four or five sizable blotches of blood. He had made a pact with God himself though, so instead of driving a block away to the hospital, he made the three-quarters of an hour trek to the multi-million dollar, state of the art Jesus Christ Celebration Center that God himself had commissioned.
He straightened his two-hundred dollar tie in his rear view mirror before getting out of his brand new sports car that God cosigned on for him. He hadn't made it two steps towards the solid gold door before he began to get unbearably dizzy. He told himself that was just the five-hundred dollar aged whiskey that God had gotten him for his birthday doing it's job. He made it exactly six more steps before losing consciousness and crumbling onto the asphalt.
He awoke several hours later in the hospital that was named after him after he made a quite large, quite well publicized donation. The doctor told him when he came to that he had inoperable lung cancer, and he had two weeks to live.
The preacher prayed to God every night to cure his incurable ailment. He told God that he wasn't ready to die, he didn't have all of his affairs in order. The following Sunday, the preacher's condition wasn't any better. He begged and begged the doctor to let him go to church one last time before he died. The doctor even called a limousine for the sickly old codger.
The preacher walked slowly up the aisle when he reached his destination. When he got to the lectern, he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, and lit it much to the chagrin of his congregation. Still, nobody stopped him as he uncorked the communal wine and took a nice healthy swig. He told his flock that their money had afforded him a great deal of opportunities, and for that he was thankful. He also told them that he expected to see hell first hand very soon, but first he wanted to tell them to enjoy a good glass of whiskey and a cigarette whenever the situation allowed it. His last words were, "Praise him who allows us all this excess."
Then God spoke to the preacher with a glass of whiskey at his side and a cigarette clenched firmly between his first and middle fingers. He gave the preacher a firm pat on the back and said that he was proud of him. The preacher was the first man who had ever lived up to Gods expectations. And after a life of lying and stealing, the preacher shared a finely aged whiskey and a pack of smokes with his Almighty Savior.
After downing the whiskey with much haste, he put the brown spotted filter of the cigarette into his still burning mouth. He thought to himself, if only his congregation knew that this is one of the few great pleasures in life. Every Sunday, this pious phony told his followers that their bodies were temples that God built with his bare hands to house their souls until the judgment day.
On his way out the door, the preacher had a bit of a coughing fit, nothing out of the ordinary he thought, until he looked down at his fifty-dollar silk handkerchief that God helped him buy. On it, he saw four or five sizable blotches of blood. He had made a pact with God himself though, so instead of driving a block away to the hospital, he made the three-quarters of an hour trek to the multi-million dollar, state of the art Jesus Christ Celebration Center that God himself had commissioned.
He straightened his two-hundred dollar tie in his rear view mirror before getting out of his brand new sports car that God cosigned on for him. He hadn't made it two steps towards the solid gold door before he began to get unbearably dizzy. He told himself that was just the five-hundred dollar aged whiskey that God had gotten him for his birthday doing it's job. He made it exactly six more steps before losing consciousness and crumbling onto the asphalt.
He awoke several hours later in the hospital that was named after him after he made a quite large, quite well publicized donation. The doctor told him when he came to that he had inoperable lung cancer, and he had two weeks to live.
The preacher prayed to God every night to cure his incurable ailment. He told God that he wasn't ready to die, he didn't have all of his affairs in order. The following Sunday, the preacher's condition wasn't any better. He begged and begged the doctor to let him go to church one last time before he died. The doctor even called a limousine for the sickly old codger.
The preacher walked slowly up the aisle when he reached his destination. When he got to the lectern, he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, and lit it much to the chagrin of his congregation. Still, nobody stopped him as he uncorked the communal wine and took a nice healthy swig. He told his flock that their money had afforded him a great deal of opportunities, and for that he was thankful. He also told them that he expected to see hell first hand very soon, but first he wanted to tell them to enjoy a good glass of whiskey and a cigarette whenever the situation allowed it. His last words were, "Praise him who allows us all this excess."
Then God spoke to the preacher with a glass of whiskey at his side and a cigarette clenched firmly between his first and middle fingers. He gave the preacher a firm pat on the back and said that he was proud of him. The preacher was the first man who had ever lived up to Gods expectations. And after a life of lying and stealing, the preacher shared a finely aged whiskey and a pack of smokes with his Almighty Savior.
1.29.2010
if you're interested
adam green - minor love review
also, i've got a couple of other reviews on there if you wanna check em out, just search my name and look through my reviews. thanks again for all the support.
also, i've got a couple of other reviews on there if you wanna check em out, just search my name and look through my reviews. thanks again for all the support.
1.12.2010
unfortunately
1.08.2010
saves the day - in reverie
...
wait a minute...
everyone knows that this album sucks, right? this isn't the good old saves the day from through being cool. why are you posting this garbage?
okay, maybe an overreaction, but it seems like every time i tell someone i like this album, they freak out. i might even be so bold as to say this is tied with through being cool for my favorite std album.(std lol)
anyways, get it and decide for yourself.
wait a minute...
everyone knows that this album sucks, right? this isn't the good old saves the day from through being cool. why are you posting this garbage?
okay, maybe an overreaction, but it seems like every time i tell someone i like this album, they freak out. i might even be so bold as to say this is tied with through being cool for my favorite std album.(std lol)
anyways, get it and decide for yourself.
1.07.2010
Cursive - Domestica
domestica is the third full-length from nebraska emo-rockers cursive. if you take offense to me calling cursive an emo band, you really don't know your stuff. however, this was before emo went to shit. this album is jammed with songs about heartbreak reflecting leading man tim kasher's real life divorce. there is a small chance that this is buried under your copy of the ugly organ, but you should really give this album a spin, i think you'll like what you find.
12.31.2009
darren hanlon - hello stranger
i've been fascinated with this guy since i heard one of his songs on pandora. this is his demo full of folk/pop gems. this aussie can spin a story as well as any musician i can think of today.
check it out.
check it out.
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