The Shape of Things to Come

Best Movie Ever.

2009-10-10T11:39:00.000-07:00

We could be pets, we could be food, but all we really are is livestock.

I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass. And I'm all out of bubblegum.

Outside the limit of our sight, feeding off us, perched on top of us, from birth to death, are our owners! Our owners! They have us. They control us! They are our masters! Wake up! They're all about you! All around you!

You... you look like your face fell in the cheese dip back in 1956.

Some Quick Tour Flicks!

2009-08-24T12:56:00.000-07:00

Nature Sounds

2009-07-16T08:24:00.000-07:00

This dude is crazy, amazing. All the sounds are naturally manipulated from the tree. No after effects or processing or added instruments. I'm trying to get in touch with him to get some tree collaboration going on for my next album.

Diego Stocco - Music From A Tree from Diego Stocco on Vimeo.

Graves.

2009-07-02T14:16:00.000-07:00

Also, check out this video for my song 'Graves' that Pistol and I made. It's off the new album 'The Glass House LP' available FREE @ www.theshapeofthingstocome.net and www.slangcorp.com

Back for the Future.

2009-07-02T12:48:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I haven't kept the blog really updated in quite awhile cause I'm a lazy putz. But I'm going to get back on the greezy and start posting regularly again. Things have been busy in my world right now, between working on new music, trying to find work, my car breaking down and all kinds of shit. But I'm back in focus. So for now I'm just gonna post a few pictures to give you an idea of what we've been up to these days. A few weeks ago I was at Young Zee (from the Outsidaz) place for the shooting of Rah Digga's new video, had a lot of fun.

I'm a big fan of The Wire so I was souped to meet Bodie, dude was a cool cat.

Here's some random shots of our the rest of the day and some pics from the two most recent Halligan's shows we threw. I'm also throwing in some fun pictures of various parties and happenings I've been attending as evidence of how we are just generally living like rock stars.

Dear Diddy, Fuck you

2009-03-06T10:16:00.000-08:00

Haha, keeps proving that money and mental illness are linked at some core level. You could only act like this if you had a bunch of dudes around you all the time leaching off your celebrity and wealth and agreeing with everything you say no matter how fucking stupid it is. Look at those three fucking goons in his crew eyeing him up like hungry dogs watching the table for scraps to fall; see how that dude laughs like a fucking dweeb when Diddy says, "Im a call this drink an OG Diddy!" Dude, your job is to laugh at Diddy's jokes?

Plus, life could be worse? Life could be worse? Fuck you Diddy.

I can actually forgive him

2009-03-04T12:08:00.000-08:00

ROFL

2009-03-04T12:04:00.000-08:00

I used to watch this shit when I was a kid.

Another Indication the World is Ending.

2009-02-11T11:02:00.000-08:00

Just what America needed, an old school live variety show starring....Sharon, Jack, Kelly and Ozzy?

The Real Story of Jesus

2009-02-08T16:24:00.000-08:00

Jesus was actually a quite muscular, shapeshifter with the ability to fly. If I'd have known this I wouldn't have doubted so much.

The Coolest Video

2009-02-07T10:56:00.000-08:00

MTV's new years resolution should've been to start playing shit like this in 09.

Gold Label is cool.

2009-01-29T12:19:00.000-08:00

The Life and Times of Tim

2008-12-22T21:59:00.000-08:00

I don't get HBO, so I generally end up inviting myself over to friend's houses to hit up their OnDemand. It's how I got through three seasons of Entourage. This is my favorite new show from the geniuses at HBO. The Life and Times of Tim. It makes me LOL.

Self Portraits with Friends

2008-12-11T15:05:00.000-08:00

Sweet 16

2008-12-11T14:32:00.000-08:00

How to explain this one...
Our good friend Carson has a little sister who is a big G. Wallace fan. So for he little sister's Sweet 16 party, Carson flew Mr. Wallace up from Savannah, GA to perform at it. I hyped him during his performance. This might have been one of the single awkwardest moments of my career. And yes, that was Max-Jerome with no eyes.

Prop 8

2008-12-09T13:17:00.000-08:00

If gays want to get married, I don't give a fuck. I really dont. If two dudes want to shack up, exchange vows and get down, it doesn't bother me in the slightest bit. It's not going to change my daily life and its not threatening any morals or principles I hold close to my heart. But that's just me. Because apparently millions of Americans, mostly McCain voters, are mortified and scared shitless and downright offended that we'd even entertain the idea. Oh boy. These are the same right wing Nazis that wanted segregation, women in kitchens, every war in history and Global Warming to be American institutions. I mean aren't we sick of these fascist assholes yet? And that's why I can't even fathom how over 70% of African-American voters voted to ban gay marriage in California--black people more than anyone should know what its like to get shit on by society. And as far a civil rights goes, Gay Rights are the last frontier. Eventually, Gays will be able to get married and will have the same rights as the rest of us Americans, so why not just relent now instead of being the assholes in the history books who resisted progress so hard, cause we were what, afraid gay people would invade our schools and teach our children how to sodomize each other? Fucking Mormons.

So here's this funny clip...with bonus, Jack Black as Jesus.

"Prop 8 - The Musical" starring Jack Black, John C. Reilly, and many more... by Jack Black

Life or Death Cycle

2008-11-21T19:04:00.000-08:00

I don't know why no one showed me this sooner. I was tripping on acid when Krunky Brewster showed this to me and I recommend that as the preferred method for viewing what follows. Best Actor of 2007 award goes to my man Zagnuts holding down the creepiest performance ever. I'm told he was on Ambien.

sexy hetero homo erotic fun times for the hard livers with hard livers

2008-11-17T22:32:00.000-08:00

This looks like its gonna be the best movie ever.

2008-11-16T23:45:00.000-08:00

I want to just chill with Michael Rapaport and drink a beer watching the Nets game one day.

Drugs are a hell of a drug.

2008-11-16T20:26:00.000-08:00

Outside the rain puddles were deep enough to drown deer. I was wading through them past the cars in the darkness of GDP's driveway. Where was GDP? Why was I in his driveway swimming in rain puddles? I was still trying to text Larry Hobson but I couldn't remember how to spell 'Help.' Somehow I was in New Brunswick again, but it couldn't be right, I was just in Newark. What kind of time portal had I stepped into? I spent the whole day popping xanax and drinking a fine german weiss beer and yet now here I was crawling through a backyard far far from my home. Someone was worried about me. Strange hands kept grabbing me and urging me toward the house but I resisted. Who's hands were these? All I knew were that my glasses were somewhere in that bush I was wrestling.

"Get out of the that bush, come inside!"

"No," I said, "my glasses are in here somewhere. The damn thing has eaten them!"

"Come inside, its warm in there."

"What about my glasses, I have to see don't I?"

"We'll find them in the morning man, people PEE on this bush."

It was all too much. There I was in the darkness falling deeper and deeper into a sharp hungry shrub, my knees deep in the wet ground. Wet from urine, wet from someone's blood. Jesus, I thought, my hands are all over this ground, grasping for lost glasses in the damp leaves and cigarette butts, what about hygeine?

"Listen," I said. "Forget about the glasses I've got to get home. Look at these hands!"

I was being half carried up the stairs toward a couch, my sagging pants past my knees tripping my each and ever stumbled drunk step. The PCP was at work on my mind and casting dark leaden shadow puppets across my vision. Those tattooed arms guiding me were foreign and horrible and threatening in their kindness. Somewhere in the darkness atom bombs were being carried gently past me by shrunken men with sick agendas, their long index fingers pressed menacingly to their pursed lips in silent bids of quiet. I tried to step on them as I passed but they moved quickly.

I remember texting Frank in the car vaguely. I tried to say, these bastards are taking me to god knows where to execute me and throw my body in the sand, please for the love of god get me help and do it fast! But my fingers were drunk and would not spell. All he would ever receive that night were the scrambled letters of an alphabet that made no more sense to the author than the recipient.

"How can you even look at that phone?" GDP asked at one point.

"Ah can arble see dah baola bham damner fucking shit! I'll see a somha halilalba."

I wouldn't have smoked the dipped cigarettes at the show except that the xanax takes away all of my anxiety. Usually before taking a drug I toil and worry over the ramifications of what I am about to do. But with more than 20mgs of anti-anxiety medication coarsing through my veins and a six pack of beer breaking down in my system, I had little to no reproach. It was as simple as pass and smoke. Then they put a microphone in my hand, but the wall was so beautiful it didn't matter.

"Let me dip this cigarette in that," I had told my friend with the jar of liquid in his pocket. "Let me just dip this cigarette in that. I love you guys, we are having so much fun."

"Lets wait until you peform before I do that."

Nonsense. Just before we took the stage GDP said something like, "your breath smells like a magic marker." And then DJ Pryme was jetting down the Turnpike while New Jersey crumbled and decayed into the blackness out the window of the backseat I was crowded into.

"We don't think its a good idea for you to go home, seeing the condition you are in." Who had said that?

I texted Frank, let me sleep at your house.

Frank: Yeah, sure come on over the couch is open.

Shape: Okay, I'm high on angel dust but I have half this wet cigarette left over, I'm coming.

Frank: Look, Gramps has been bugging I don't think its a good idea for me to have anyone over right now.

Goddammit, Frank!

I woke up on a couch in my long johns thinking, how am I going to go to work? I tried to stand up but the weight of my hangover buckled my knees and I collapsed on the ground. I had to pee terribly but GDP's roommate came walking down the hallway naked but for a towel around his waste and closed the bathroom door behind him. Flashes of the previous night sparked and turned my brain into a morbid Fourth of July of Memory. Where were my glasses? Why had I been wrestling with the Urine Bush? Who had I called? I stumbled outside and GDP was walking a happy puppy in the front sidewalk. What had happened while I was on drugs? Had GDP bought a puppy at some point while we were tripping?

"I don't know," He said.

I gave him a hug and started my long walk in the morning cold to the train station.

My evening with Matt Pinfield

2008-11-15T19:42:00.000-08:00

I don't know how I wound up riding shotgun in a beat up sedan with Matt Pinfield behind the wheel, the soundtrack of Mudhoney raging on the tinny speakers of his beat up car, a junkyard of crunched up paper fast food bags and stepped on cans of diet soda, the cold wind raging against my face from a broken window that would only roll three quarters the way up while the rain of the four AM spit like some lisped God beckoning me toward a dark unknown field of my soul I never traveled.

Frank in the backseat said something like, "I think we missed our exit. I think we are going the wrong way."

"It doesn't matter," Matter Pinfield said. "We go where the night takes us."

And where would this night take us I wondered? I thought about my mother at home, about the girl I met that night, soft and beautiful ready to take me anywhere but here, anywhere but Matt Pinfield's car cruising at speeds well over a hundred miles per hour down the Garden State Parkway to a destination I couldn't fathom. A fear sept in. I looked into the back seat to my friend. His eyes were empty with the knowledge that we were embarked on a journey from which there was no return.

"Reach into the glove box," Matt Pinfield said. "Lets do some coke."

I reached into the glove compartment.

"This is alot of coke Matt."

"Hell yeah it's a lot of coke! You boys are driving with Matt Pinfield now!" Sweat beads like melting snow formed on his reddening face. "There's a Coldplay cd on the floor break it up on there."

I took the massive bag of coke from the dashboard.

"Is that a gun, Matt?"

Frank muttered something in the back. The ecstacy pills Matt Pinfield had given us were kicking in. I held the gun in my hand. Cold, cold steel. I worried about fingerprints too late. Something in my mind grabbed me and screamed, Jump out the car, it may be going fast, but its a chance you'd be better off taking. I looked at the handle. I looked at the speedometer. One hundred and seven miles per hour. No, there would be no jumping out at this speed.

"Put that fucking gun down are you crazy?" Matt Pinfield slapped me upside the head hard and I held back hot steaming yearning tears. Where was I? How did this happen? Just hours ago I was performing to a mediocre crowd at the Harrison Green Room, now I was on a trip into the hidden bowels of the night with the host of 120 Minutes. How many minutes would I have left now? 120? Less?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I put the gun back into the dashboard. Why did Matt Pinfield have a gun?

"When I was on MTV do you know how much fucking ass I got? Do you?"

Frank mumbled in the back.

"Jesus," Matt screamed, "get a hold of yourself, we've got a lot more to do before this night is over! Did you know I saw Kennedy naked? Sniff this coke!"

I looked at the mountain of white devilish powder piled high on the Coldplay CD.

"Maybe I shouldn't just yet," I whispered.

"Maybe you should stop being such a goddamn pussy! I chilled with Axl Rose, now that man could do coke!" And with that he suddenly took his hands from the steering wheel and forcefully shoved my face into the mountain of cocaine I'd help build. I tried to hold my breath but I was suffocating. Finally I had to breath and with that breath came a burning shower of drug that ran into my sinuses and sparked every nueron of my brain.

"God damn," I shouted and Matt Pinfield laughed in approval.

"You ever kill a hooker?" He said.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, give your friend some coke."

I passed the ice capped mountain to Frank in the back seat and he slouched into it face first coming up with his face painted white like some sad mime. Matt Pinfield laughed harder. I felt like I was dying.

"You boys love to party! After my own heart. Now, Listen, I'm going to take you to a special place right now and you can't tell anybody about it!"

Frank mumbled in the backseat, "I want to go home."

"Whats wrong with your friend? Is he a fucking Nark?"

"No," I said, "Not Frank, he's above the table."

Somewhere down the road we passed an a bad accident. A car had flipped atop another and a young girl bleeding was wondering into traffic. Matt Pinfield aimed at her and she flew in a sickening thud onto the hood flipping high into the air and smacking on the pavement as we drove past dying into the night ahead of her. Pearl Jam came on the play list and Matt Pinfield punched my shoulder and told me to turn it up, which I did holding back tears.

"I used to be something," he said and scrounged through his pocket. He brought out a small pill. "Take this, it's mescaline."

"I don't think I feel up to it Matt," I said weakly and he punched me in my face until I took it from his palm and swallowed. Soon, through the darkness of our late night drive colors and patterns emerged. A moon of deathly red rested low on the horizon before us and spoke my name over and over, beside me Matt Pinfield was unbuttoning and pulling down his pants.

"I feel better driving pantsless." It all made sense. Why would you want to be restricted by such garments flying this fast down the Garden State Parkway.

He looked at me. "Do you know Kurt Cobain was an alien?"
"Do you know Billy Corgan used to speak to the ghost of Lincoln?"
"Do you know I am god?"

"Matt Pinfield," I said, "I think Frank is in trouble."

Behind me Frank was expanding, he couldn't even fit in the back seat anymore. His bones were growing too fast and his flesh was stretching and make sick tearing sounds. He opened his mouth and a lazer beam projected from his tonsils and lit the car with strange red light.

"I've seen this before," Matt Pinfield said and swerved to the shoulder. He parked and jumped out of the car and together we pulled frank from the backseat to the grass beside the road. His body moved and quaked.

"Open the trunk," Matt Pinfield said and tossed me the keys.

"Jesus Christ, Matt," I shouted, "There are at least seven bodies in here!"

"We just need one, pick!"

I grudgingly dragged the carcass of a small asian woman from the trunk and rested it beside frank who was speaking in strange gibberish. Matt pulled a knife from his belt and began carving strange symbols into the corpses rotting remains and screaming incomprehensible chants. Somewhere far off a dog cried. In China a newborn infant spontaneously combusted and far south in Louisiana an elderly woman died of a heart attack in her sleep.

Frank rolled on his side and began to vomit dark steaming piles of maggots. I tried to hold his hand but it had grown to such a size that its mere touch crushed the tender bones beneath my flesh and I recoiled in pain.

"I need more drugs," Matt Pinfield cried. "Or this will never work!"

So much sooner before I was performing rap music at a small bar in Harrison and had no idea where my night would end up. Above us a vortex opened and two angels descended. Matt Pinfield couldn't see them. They were beautiful. They pulled me aside and their golden wings embraced me.

The first angel spoke: "The Devil has come and he will Ride a Pale Sedan. His Name will be Matt Pinfield."

The second angel spoke: "If you do not destroy him now the end will rise as the morning. Take this long sword and slay him."

A shining sword was given unto me and I held it and knew it was power. Frank wretched a cloud of smoke from his lungs and Matt Pinfield moved close to his neck and sunk his teeth deep in his veins. He was feeding on my friend.

I took the long sword in my hand and thrust it deep between the shoulder blades of Matt Pinfield and a banshee scream erupted from his body that cause three million birds to fall from flight. Suddenly, impaled by my heavenly sword he turned to me.

"Before I die," he spoke," May I have one last key bump?"

I dug my keys into his massive stash and held it before him and he sniffed and died.

Then I went home and made a cool song I'm gonna post on the internet soon.

I remember Halloween....

2008-11-04T12:39:00.000-08:00

Good Night, 74 Harrison Ave

2008-10-23T15:40:00.000-07:00

These pictures are from the final days of the Ax Throwers West Orange house.

McCain/ Palin

2008-10-20T09:58:00.000-07:00

I don't know what I just watched...

2008-10-18T11:58:00.000-07:00

but I think it was for some kind of sports event?

Hilary Clinton Day! Yay! Red, White and Blue!

2008-10-02T10:42:00.000-07:00

She makes sense, why would we elect an A-Rab when we are at war with Iraq and Iran? Oh shit, are we at war with Iran??

Redneck Woman Rails on Obama - Watch more free videos

Childrens Cartoons...

2008-10-02T10:10:00.000-07:00

Really bring me back.

Bill O'Reilly is a Goon

2008-10-02T09:17:00.000-07:00

I know the kids acting, so is it bad that I still want to punch him in dirty conservative face???

Shape's Summer 08 in pictures Pt. 1

2008-09-28T16:58:00.000-07:00

Me, GDP and G. Wallace go to the Zoo!

2008-09-14T23:57:00.000-07:00

Sarah Palin

2008-09-14T23:43:00.000-07:00

Honestly, what the fuck.

Like seriously, what the fuck.

Am I to believe that this right wing Born Again Christian homophobic gun totting NRA card carrying idealogue is actually in line to become the Vice President of the United States of America? I'm sorry, maybe I didn't get the fucking memo that said the world wasn't fucked up enough and we've all taken a vote and decided to just hammer those few remaining nails into the coffin of logic, civil liberty and any remaining evidence of democracy we have left in this god-forsaken country!

Click here.

Please just take a look at this article. It contains a great picture of our future vice president cleaning the carcass of a moose she just killed while her young daughter watches on. I mean, this obviously is just a great indication that we are dealing with a no holds bar serious politician who is going to really take our foreign policy to new and progressive levels. I feel alot safer. Thanks alot guys! We win again!

John Lennon

2008-08-14T09:24:00.000-07:00

On a side note, I'd like to say, stop saying "peace" if you don't mean it. I'm sick of violent and aggressive humans using it to say goodbye to each other, you idiots should say something like "fear" or "iggnorance" when you leave.

2008-08-01T12:06:00.000-07:00

Where the Wild Things Aren't

2008-07-15T09:05:00.000-07:00

It sucks that the first thing I heard about Spike Jonze's adapation of the classic children's book "Where the Wild Things Are", was that it had been abandoned by the Warner Studios after early screenings of the film made children run from the theatre screaming and in tears. I guess Warner Bros. thinks that this is a bad thing, where as I, personally feel, that that is the best indication that this movie would have probably been one of the most creative and refreshing kids movies to come out since the Labyrinth. There was a time, before the PC revolution, that childrens movies were often dark and scary while at the same time hopeful and visually stimulating and loaded with innovative creativity. Now it seems that any kids movie that comes out has to feature some goofball Hollywood A-Lister doing funny voices in bright candy colored worlds of off kilter pop reference covered in hard shells of scatological humor like rotten candy covered apples.

It's a shame because Spike Jonze is a visual genius, from his music videos to his two motion pictures, Being John Malkovich and Adaptation, he's more than proven his ability to take other peoples source materials and turn them into exciting cinema. And judging by the two production shots I found, they definetly got the tone of the monsters down as best I can tell. I would have really loved to see what they did with this project, but once again, the major studios are too fucking pussy to take a chance on anything that doesn't star Mike Meyers or Eddie Murphy acting like retracted testicles who honed their senses of humor and acting skills in a McDonalds ball pit. Oh well.

Tim Russert: A Follow Up.

2008-07-14T14:18:00.000-07:00

I wrote a memorial on the blog to Russert on the day of his death. Just wanted to catch everyone up on where he is now. Poor George...I don't think he's gonna be there long.

I'm just saying...

2008-07-14T08:44:00.000-07:00

Random Attire.

2008-07-13T10:17:00.000-07:00

We came home really drunk from the bar and howled with Jerry. OOOOOWWWRRRR!!!!

Jesse knocks over a bottle of beer with an ax two summers ago.