srijeda, 27.01.2010.
Ured za igranje šaha i gubljenje vremena
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Originalno sam htio objaviti jednu pjesmu. Onda sam dobio drugu ideju pa sam krenuo raditi na njoj, stoga vam sada mogu predstaviti treću pjesmu koju sam na kraju i snimio: Hero Ove druge dvije? Samo što ih nisam napravio. Uglavnom: razbijao sam glavu time da početni dio bude odvojena skladba, no srećom pa odustah od toga jer mi je bolja ideja sinula. Pun sam tih ovih dana. Lud sam, lud! Također, ovom prilikom predstavljam sliku koja će na Last.fm-u te u svim svjetskim žurnalima predstavljati "Permafrost Sandwich":  I onda bih se ja bavio glazbom... EDIT: Zbog velike navale, dodajem tekst 'Eroja: Chequered white pieces in a thousand lines And I browse through them like a hungry child A gambit for a queen and then worlds collide It's a funny game that demands (of me) resolve The pawns rush the trenches with unyielding love The knights have got their backs though not their hearts As they stumble through an en passant I cry for havoc and then give up My opponent shakes his or her head Refusing my surrender claims that I'm not dead yet More people gather 'round to watch me win Don't know which game they're watching but it sure ain't this I smile and continue, 'cause what are the odds That they'll disappear? The bishop shows them faces painted on a screen The rook shows them pictures of places that I've been Or claim to have been, they don't need the truth They need an excuse and something to prove it They'll be happy with what they're given I'll hide away, all my lines proven They'll see the game as done And I? I'll play the pieces (Black King, White Knight) Conquer, then fall to pieces (Black King, White Knight) Hide a few to save the lot Aren't I a hero? Of course I'm not. |
nedjelja, 24.01.2010.
Das Katzenklavier
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There was this guys once. Let's call him Rob. Rob bought a piano, all shiny and new. Hey, Rob.  It was roughly the shape of a piano. It had most of the keys a piano should have.  Rob loved his piano. He pet it and took it for walks, and every night he'd cuddle next to it and dream of playing its soft, white keys.  Or sometimes he'd dream of cuddling next to it and, instead, played his fiddle.  But the piano stayed unplayed. It quietly gathered dust.  Still Rob played his fiddle and dreamt.  Unused, one day the piano left, taking all of Rob's money in an ironic play on his name.  Ha ha, Rob. Ha ha. |
petak, 22.01.2010.
Rakija od kolača je laž
A man walks into a bar, orders a drink. A man stays in a bar all night, gets royally pissed.  A man walks out of a bar.  A man gets ran over by a truck 'cause he's a fucking drunk.  The moral of this story is: |
četvrtak, 21.01.2010.
At the Diner #2
srijeda, 20.01.2010.
Dear Alice
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Ovdje kliknite jer nemate pametnijeg posla. Ne, ne zanima me. Nemate. Čitanje blogova nije "bivanje zaposlenim". Na gornjem linku se može pronaći pjesma "Dear Alice" Postcardsa, prekrasna pjesma o žensko-ženskim, muško-ženskim, žensko-žensko-muškim, muško-muško-ženskim, žensko-žensko-pingvin-žengskim i raznim mješanim odnosima s kakvima ste zasigurno imali doticaja (u ovom ili onom obliku). Ritmička dinamika mi je i dalje nepoznanica, ali zato vokal napreduje. U nekom već smjeru. A perkusijske dionice... Oh, dragi Bože, perkusijske dionice! EDIT: Tekst drage Alise: I don't love you anymore, dear Alice I'm thinking about your girlfriend tonight How is she in bed? Does she wake up in the morning? Does she leave her hair on the pillows at night? Is her right eye blue or green? Is her smile as serene As chlorophorm for the heart? Is the tart really worth it, dear Alice? I'm thinking about your barrel-chested boyfriend With his long blond curly hair And his biceps like a pair of Goodyear's, His firm yet lovin' stare. Is his trust so much better? Is his smile as sweet As a pack of chipmuncks on speed? Is his safety really what you need, dear Alice? I'm imagining your harem, dear Alice How you play canasta almost every night Once or twice someone pulls out A dust-encrusted box of Twister And then you all go batshit And get blisters on your knees Why was it, again, that I left you When there was so much I still wanted from you Like a cake on Christmas Or a partner on Winter-een-mas? Are you guys better than the idea of Us? Well screw you and the horse your rode in on, dear Alice I can do better than you in my head And if I can imagine it then, by God, I can find it That's how logic works, right? Well, we'll see. Goodnight, Alice. ... I don't love you anymore, dear Alice Though I am thinking about your girlfriend tonight |
