Author Archives: cherry bomb

daughter – youth

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Thank you to Stella Star for sending me this.

Shadows settle on the place that you left
Our minds are troubled by the emptiness
Destroy the middle, it’s a waste of time
From the perfect start to the finish line

And if you’re still breathing, you’re the lucky ones
‘Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs
Setting fire to our insides for fun
Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong
The lovers that went wrong

We are the reckless
We are the wild youth
Chasing visions of our futures
One day we’ll reveal the truth
That one will die before he gets there
And if you’re still bleeding, you’re the lucky ones
‘Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone
We’re setting fire to our insides for fun
Collecting pictures from the flood that wrecked our home
It was a flood that wrecked this

And you caused it

Well I’ve lost it all, I’m just a silhouette
A lifeless face that you’ll soon forget
My eyes are damp from the words you left
Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest

And if you’re in love, then you are the lucky one
‘Cause most of us are bitter over someone
Setting fire to our insides for fun
To distract our hearts from ever missing them
But I’m forever missing him

And you caused it

janine tilley – why chicks dig nihilists… an old wives’ tale from 2005

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(We miss you, Gerdtjie)

After years of indulging in martyrdom, I got to thinking, there must be reasons behind all this nonsensical adoration of worthless flesh, complete with limp cock.

Fucking a deadbeat? this is probably why…

1. They stay out of the sun so their skin is all soft

2. They don’t bath as much as other boys so we get to smell the real them and can pretend we are fucking mineworkers.

3. They cant always get it up, posing a challenge and a chance to giggle about them with your girlfriends.

4. When a nihilist is sweet to you, it feels like a blade of sunshine has pierced an angry sky, as it hardly ever happens.

Not as glamorous as one would think…
5. They are incredibly needy, and co-dependent tarts everywhere rejoice in the glory of this.

6. They don’t talk much, letting you rat a tat about all sorts of arb crap, which fuels their negativity.

7. Nihilists take loads of drugs and have massive come downs, making us feel less guilty about our own consumption and general bullshit.

8. They have decent music collections and there is no chance of catching them with oakley’s on their heads.

9. Say one measly nice thing to them, and they will use it as a weapon against you, exciting.

10. A nihilist will never believe you when you say you love them, giving you an opportunity to change your mind whenever you fancy without getting in to trouble.

11. They cant really talk properly, preferring to screech and wail and shout a lot, but write beautiful, tragic love letters that we keep forever and are the envy of our friends.

12. The constant negativity makes us feel that in contrast, we are bursting with positivism and are living fabulous, tanned lives.

13. They have such a low self image, there is very little chance of them upstaging us.

14. Their general incorrigible and juvenile vibe prevents other sluts from moving in until they get to know them, and by that time you have them by their weak ineffectual balls and they cant live without you.

15. ..They will never stand in front of the mirror going “christ, i am gorgeous”

16. They admire your bitching and complaining and actually get a rise out of it, rare and satisfying.

17. We can take out our frustrations on them using inappropriate verbal abuse and kick and scratch them as much as we want.

18. Their suicidal bollocks turns us on, as there is nothing like a kicked pathetic dog to bring out the old maternal instincts.

19. And, in the end, girls really enjoy being treated badly.

big black – l dopa

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In memory of Gerdte Terblanche, who left us seven years ago today. Miss your rotten smile!

I got a sickness sweet as a love note
I got a headache like a pillow
Called me Daisy, called me Daisy, called me Daisy, that one
Called me Daisy
I am a sweetheart
I am a prom queen
I am some puppies
What, Daisy?
What, Daisy?
Are we here now?
I am a horror
This is an old one
What, Daisy?
L Dopa fixed me, all right

from Big Black’s 1987 album, Songs About Fucking.

junk males

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Eeeuww! I’m a virtual bukkake star. Foreign cock spam’s flying at me from all directions. It’s badly aimed.
It hurts my eyes. It’s just so ridiculous! I’m spluttering with laughter.

___
Hello cherry_bomb
You know you want a bigger cock, dont waste anymore time
derias Hattaway

Wazzup cherry_bomb
girls lover a big, think cock – get yours now!
Stephen Bolduc

Yo man cherry_bomb
African tribes take these herbs all the time, this is why they having such big cocks!
Feras bridgeford

Yo cherry_bomb
imagine the look on your wifes face when she sees the new you
Ragu Lizardo

Wazzup cherry_bomb
A girl once told me i was to small, im the one laughing now
Quyanh Seinzal

Wassup cherry_bomb
Any bigger and i would be in a circus
Merrick Fabris

Dolls always whooped at me and even chaps did in the free WC!
Well, now I whoop at them, because I took Me – ga – Di k
for 3 months and now my phallus is dreadfully best than world.
Attain

You know you want MORE

smog – a river ain’t too much to love

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The first two tracks from A River Ain’t Too Much To Love (Domino Records, 2005):

Palimpsest

Winter weather is not my soul
But the biding for spring…

Say Valley Maker

With the grace of a corpse
In a riptide
I let go
And I slide slide slide
Downriver
With an empty case by my side
An empty case
That’s my crime

And I sing
To keep from cursing
Yes I sing
To keep from cursing

River Oh
River End
River Oh
River End
River Go
River Bend

Take me through the sweet valley
Where your heart blooms
Take me through the sweet valley
Where your heart is covered in dew
And when the river dries
Will you bury me in wood?
Where the river dries
Will you bury me in stone?

Oh I never really realized
Death is what it meant
To make it on my own

Because there is no love
Where there is no obstacle
And there is no love
Where there is no bramble
There is no love
On the hacked away plateau
And there is no love
In the unerring
And there is no love
On the one true path

Oh I cantered out here
Now I’m galloping back

So bury me in wood
And I will splinter
Bury me in stone
And I will quake
Bury me in water
And I will geyser
Bury me in fire
And I’m gonna phoenix
I’m gonna phoenix

leonard cohen – avalanche

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From Songs Of Love And Hate (1971).

Well I stepped into an avalanche,
It covered up my soul;
When I am not this hunchback that you see,
I sleep beneath the golden hill.
You who wish to conquer pain,
You must learn, learn to serve me well.You strike my side by accident
As you go down for your gold.
The cripple here that you clothe and feed
Is neither starved nor cold;
He does not ask for your company,
Not at the centre, the centre of the world.

When I am on a pedestal,
You did not raise me there.
Your laws do not compel me
To kneel grotesque and bare.
I myself am the pedestal
For this ugly hump at which you stare.

You who wish to conquer pain,
You must learn what makes me kind;
The crumbs of love that you offer me,
They’re the crumbs I’ve left behind.
Your pain is no credential here,
It’s just the shadow, shadow of my wound.

I have begun to long for you,
I who have no greed;
I have begun to ask for you,
I who have no need.
You say you’ve gone away from me,
But I can feel you when you breathe.

Do not dress in those rags for me,
I know you are not poor;
Don’t love me quite so fiercely now
When you know that you are not sure,
It is your turn, beloved,
It is your flesh that I wear.

Avalanche lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

men-ups!

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Men-Ups! is a photo series by photographer Rion Sabean featuring men in classic pin-up poses that are commonly associated with representations of femininity.

Rion says of his series: “I hope to have the viewer question their responses and why they feel the reaction that they do, and to associate those feelings with an understanding of societal brainwashing. Mainly, I want my audience to ask two things: why is it considered sexy for a woman to pose in such [hilarious] ways, and why isn’t it sexy for a man to do the same?”

Read more at the Huffington Post. Thanks to Debbie Pryor for “turning me on” to Men-Ups!

wild life narrator

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The natural born cheater is a deadly animal. Research suggests that a cheater can comfortably live up to nine lives simultaneously. That’s why it moves in for the kill so fast. There is very little at stake. Its young must fend for themselves from an early age. Just look at it go! The finesse, the merciless focus, the fondness for black eyeliner. But the cheater has little stamina. It tires quickly of the chase, seeking new quarry rather than putting in effort beyond a certain point… Success! Yet what a bloody mess afterwards as it lies licking its chops… Replete… for tonight.

david foster wallace on interiority (1989)

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We all have our little solipsistic delusions, ghastly intuitions of utter singularity: that we are the only one in the house who ever fills the ice-cube tray, who unloads the clean dishwasher, who occasionally pees in the shower, whose eyelid twitches on first dates; that only we take casualness terribly seriously; that only we fashion supplication into courtesy; that only we hear the whiny pathos in a dog’s yawn, the timeless sigh in the opening of the hermetically-sealed jar, the splattered laugh in the frying egg, the minor-D lament in the vacuum’s scream; that only we feel the panic at sunset the rookie kindergartner feels at his mother’s retreat. That only we love the only-we. That only we need the only-we. Solipsism binds us together, J.D. knows. That we feel lonely in a crowd; stop not to dwell on what’s brought the crowd into being. That we are, always, faces in a crowd.

–  from “Westward The Course Of Empire Takes Its Way”, a short story in the collection Girl With Curious Hair (1989)

jessie mae hemphill – she wolf

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As I stepped into Jessie Mae Hemphill’s trailer, my eyes fell upon Sweet Pea (her dog) and a revolver. By the end of that first meeting, I couldn’t help thinking that this was the allure of Jessie Mae. She is sweetness incarnate, but you really wouldn’t want to mess with her either.

This same duality is present in her music. Listen to her voice and you can hear a lilting quality, bringing to mind a Billie Holiday. But listen to the lyrics, and you sense a woman who’s seen a thing or two of the world. As she pulled a hollow-tip bullet out of her blouse she spoke loudly so the young “punks” hanging out near her trailer could hear. “A bullet like this one here will put a hole in you this big,” she said, making a circle with her good arm.

As it turns out, the revolver plays a practical role. Ever since a stroke left Jessie Mae partially paralyzed, she knows a vulnerability that she had clearly never experienced. This same stroke rendered her unable to play guitar, effectively ending a successful career that was on the rise.

Read more about Jessie Mae Hemphill HERE.

tiga – shoes

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Directed by Alex & Liane, the video for Tiga’s ‘Shoes’ “imagines a horrifying dystopia in which people other than myself are interviewed,” says the Man of Music Future, “I had to calm myself down by staring at my MySpace photos for a couple of hours.” (This was, after all, 2009 ;)