Tag Archives: Pink Floyd

RIP Storm Thorgerson

19 Apr

For those who aren’t hip to him, he was to Pink Floyd what Stanley Donwood is to Radiohead’s cover art.


12 Feb

My doctor says that I need more David Gilmour in my life.

stimulant (continued)

22 Jun

sent a really good post and fucked it up and ended up losing it so no jokes just straight info:

spliff+ politics = stimulating conversations.

I didn’t know Valley Girls had moved to the Northeast.

Toronto is a beautiful city that reminds me of the best things about Portland and San Francisco.

Austin is the most unique city I’ve ever been to and there isn’t a place I’ve visited quite like it.

I regret not seeing Japanther, God made me Funky, and NinjaSonik, they seem like they would’ve been good bands live, haven’t learned how to make myself 4 dimensional quite yet, but I’m working on it.

No matter how beautiful and stunning these women are, these women here will engage you in a conversation, even if you’re wearing cut-off jeans and a t-shirt.

I could see myself living here in the next 2-5 years.

the band Final Flash reminds me of a Canadian Oliver Future. They rocked and the venue the Drake Hotel is a pretty sweet place. In the basement of a real hotel is the venue with red velvet curtains. Classy indeed.

the show was awesome, the rhythm section was on point and the music evoked lots of good bands I’d heard before, James at its best, A French Kings of Leon, and a little Neil Young sprinkled in. The write up in the paper said it was like Dinosaur Jr. Meets Neil Young meets Pink Floyd. Three bands I’m pretty fond of, however overall they really had their own sound.I was very impressed and it was certainly the best show I saw during the festival.

Lots to work on, need to go to and run errands before I visit the Free Times Cafe to read more poetry.

Shout outs to all the fathers out there, including my own who hasn’t really given me anything worth keeping except a big dick–to which I’m very grateful for (and some of the ladies out there as well), because if nothing else it has proven to be the gift that keeps on giving, even if grief happened to be part of the wrapping.

See ya in a couple of days. I’m off to enjoy the city. One last thing. The crosswalk machine that says “walk” is a guy also but he’s walking at angle where it looks like he’ll start bursting into a whistling fit. Its little stuff like this that makes this city so nice.

Don’t get me wrong it has it’s share of squares and douche bags but you can’t escape those kinds of people, unless you live off tha grid alone in a ranch out in the canyons, something I’m not quite ready for yet. But soon, very soon, and there’ll be shotguns and swimming pools.


one more sneak peek

1 Jun

another poem for the book, they are not all as somber, the funny one’s I wrote first the theme for this project is Less sex, more humor. but I guess they all have that David Sedaris sick twisted humor lying beneath the melancholy clouded lining.

Young Punk

10 years ago
I was a junky
a foggy headed

No girlfriend
my bong
was my companion

I’d be celibate

for almost 3 years
but not by choice.

I’d wake up
load my
2 foot
and then
head to
art class.

All my free
spent riding
with my
out his
pick up truck.

We had the perpetual
reek of
on our

resin stains
on my jeans
and T-shirts
and in the
of my
from cleaning
out the bowl stems.

I’d skip
to lay
in the backyard
take acid
and listen
to Pink Floyd
on days deemed
too sunny
to be indoors.

Late nights
spent in
paranoid frenzy
scared to sleep
for fear of dying
or losing control
and getting kicked
out of the

yet I had
nothing to
I never thought I’d
see 30.

I couldn’t forsee
the person
I am today
reflecting on myself
as a 20 year old
heart broken over
an Aussie chick
and jerking
off to Nina Hartley
and Vanessa Del Rio.

I couldn’t imagine
that not only
would things be okay,
but they’d
get infinitely
better and
that not only
would I become some kind
but that I’d actually grow to
like the straight life.

Happily eschewing parties
for a quiet night
of watching hoops
with a
bowl of
and a pipe to smoke.

My God,
what has become of

~Edward Austin Robertson~