Muck Raking for pennies

Yowza, this might make things messier than many may have thought possible.

The flowery prose of Roger Cohen's world travel op-ed columns elicits strong feelings from this fake meximan, of fire and brimstone. I've decided to reinvent the blog and start dedicating it to reaching my personal goal of living in a post-moral world. I want to see videos of RA the rugged man teaching a 7 year old girl how to shoot an automatic rifle, these things are important for America.

So, it looks like shit is not gonna go so well for some people in this day and age; I keep meeting bored ex-pats and it is utterly puzzling.

So here's a poem i wrote:

Concubine,

The coins on the dresser
might fetch the morning paper
and a cup of fresh brewed tea

The paperback copy
of "A Separate Piece"
should remain ajar at page 13

Have you fared well
in your latest dreams
truthfully, do tell

When I return
we'll discuss till
it ends with quiet

complacency, a kiss
and a cleft soaking
wet for some reason

It's a big big world

Even though, I'm utterly convinced that Tara Moncure has her own unique weight as a satellite in this world; every time I go abroad I meet, bare minimum, another random acquaintance of the lovely Larchmont bred lass.

So, what of seeking out a fortune in a foreign land in the world of music?

While working the music at a friend's birthday party I was approached by a fellow from this band, Sonidoex:



Admittedly clownish stuff, but what are you supposed to do when the guy has a fuckin goober of hash sticking off his thumb and he's shoving it in your face, while half-assedly complimenting your rudimentary POS audio-digital signal converter while slowly backtracking when he notices the ounce and a half of bud chilling next to the laptop? He later rescinded his compliments, but was kind enough to call me a musician, which is really funny.

SO maybe there is room to make music in Europe; let's all hope so.