rock and roll musings by Tim Byrnes

Lyrics From the Forthcoming Album I'll Record on an Answering Machine If I Have To!!

from  'Violence Solves Everything'

  ... that's my soul there, hear it singing

in the sweet, ancient tongue of the birds

yeah, it's singing on a little song of redemption

but it's mispronouncing all of the words

and it's reverse lighting all of it's memories

so it brings all the dark to the front

and it begs you to, please, understand it

when it knows, by design, that you won't

and it knows, in it's mind, that you can't

and then the old whore starts to laugh ........................

From A Reading From the Book of Hunger

(cho) Ima kill you, motherfucker, Ima kill you. That's right (repeat)

cold wind blowing through some old trees

the choices still in front of me: loving you or dying by degrees

and ain't it something how the days pile up

you want to shoot down the world 'cause it's never enough and there's

too much that sounds like love

that only sounds like love

i am less than nothing without you

that's what they tell me

that's what they try to sell me

less than nothing without you

but. babe, where would you be

without me

believing?............................

From 'Buster's a Good Dog'

.... he wants to have sex with everything he sees

but Buster's a good dog.

he won't do that..........

And so on. All my recording stuff burned so right now it's just me banging on the PRS and hollering at the dogs but sooner or later there'll be another record - this one w/the working title of 'god bless america'. Lower case intentional.

tb

Posted by: timbyrnes at 02:26 | link | comments (6)

A Cowardly & Superstitious Lot: The Gospel According to Batman

   Lately, w/the tragic death of Heath Legder, many local and cable channels have been showing every movie he's ever made except for 'Brokeback Mountain, of course, gay cowboys being verboten anywhere west of NY, east of LA or to the left of an enlightened mind. But that's not the issue, at least not right now, but seeing all the Ledger deathnews I found that he had completed the next Batman movie, 'The Dark Knight' playing, of all things, The Joker.

     So, homicidal maniac, OK, but keep those gay cowboys to yrself. Again, that's not why I'm here. I wanna talk about Batman.

     Before anyone gets crazy I realize that Batman is a fictional character who has gone thru many revisions in his 60 plus years in print. But it is the concept of the character, especially in his earliest appearances (say, up until Robin was introduced in 1940 and of course Frank Miller's groundbreaking 'Dark Knight Returns' in 1986) that I find so attractive.

     Dig: the 11 yr old scion of a wealthy industrialist sees both his parents murdered in cold blood in a street robbery. Turning his grief and anger outward, for a change, the boy grows into an obsessed adult w/access to the money and technology to outfit himself w/all sorts of high tech gear and exotic martial arts training among other specialized training regimens. He discovers a natural cave under his stately manor to use as a headquarters and is, in the beginning, aided only by Alfred Pennyworth, who Miller classically described thusly: "... and blessed w/a butler trained in combat surgery." Yeah it's ridiculous. He's a hero ( NOT a superhero, there's a difference!) and all heroes are a little ridiculous. Feet of clay on pedestals, kill yr idols etc. But what gets me about Bruce is the darkness imbued in what's ordinarily (and often quite incorrectly) a 'children's character'. Take away the costume. utility belt, Batmobile/plane/cycle etc. and whattaya got? A psychotic obsessive stalking the streets, taking the law into his own hands, reclaiming his stretch of turf for those he declaims decent from those he declaims indecent. And, I guess if we take away the cars bikes and boats he'd be doing it on foot. So, what the hell, let a brother have his Batmobile.

    What I love especially is the paradox: a defender of law who beaks the law. The vigilante mindset given free reign and unlimited financing all in the service of an impossible revenge. That this legend had been despoiled, 1st by the godawful '60s tv series and a string of failed movies dating back to 1989 (the closest thing I've seen to a Batman movie that captured the tone of the way I see the character was 'The Crow', the 1st one w/Brandon Lee) is a shame in that I think it trivializes, if not, the essence of humanity than certainly of America. Destroying the village to save it; the power of the will supersceding the rule of law and, my favorite: violence solving everything.

     Before the Comics Code and 'Destruction of the Innocent' (look 'em up) saddled him w/a teenage sidekick and sucked all the character's blood in the name of 'decency' Batman was a motherfucker! I'm talking throwing crooks off of buildings, shooting up everything in sight and returning murder w/murder. While I firmly believe in 'thou shalt not kill' I have to admit it's a hell of a fantasy. Right making might dressed in black, kicking ass and taking names.

     The violent antihero to my mind provides a wonderful service to mankind by allowing an avenue for the violent fantasies we all have. Whether it's Bruce Willis dying hard or, say, the wrestlers of the WWE or, as in my case, the Batman, the need for a vehicle for the collective revenge jones runs deep and to the ends of the earth.

     About 18 or so years ago, a rehab group I was in went on a field trip to the Cartoon Museum in Rye, NY. You can't make this shit up, can you?  Anyway, one of the exhibits was a costume worn by Michael Keaton in the 1989 movie. As Keaton is only something like 5'8", 5'9" the effect was less than terror striking in my heart. But the Batman is not a suit or even a cartoon. The Batman is a spirit, a yearning in the heart for something resembling fair play and, yes, a spirit willing to kill the right people if neccessary to achieve it's goals. Bigger than us all is this spirit, and right now it's ticking like a timebomb in schools, homes and offices (and convenience stores!) across this once great nation of ours.

     Batman lives and no dead psychotic gay cowboy murderer of the mind can stop him.

tb

Posted by: timbyrnes at 02:12 | link | comments (3)

The Unfairness of Toothpaste

    It appears that even the denial of the career alcoholic has it's limits. From what I remember from my rehab loss and grieving classes there are like 7 stages to this shit, right? (And don't those rehab, and other 'experts, love lists? It's like "Of course we're experts! We have lists don't we? Now shut up and do as we say!" But I digress) The 1st of which is supposedly denial.

     Well, I'll willing to give 'em that.

    

     Next up is supposed to be anger. Well,I've been practicing that one for 50 years, so let's rock. Now I'm not gonna disavow that last post. No, I am still grateful and amazed by the goodness that surrounds me and, Lester knows, I don't want to screw up anyones's answered prayers but I woke up this morning (bah- DAH- duh-duh) and was nothing but pissed.

     And all I could do was think about it until it was all my fault.

     Hmmmmm. There's a telling statement. Let's work this jerky, shall we?

     For every thought I release into the greymaze that says "I'm lucky to be alive w/my kids and guitar intact. It could have been worse." there's  another one whispering "Settin' the bar a mite low, aren'tch Sparky?". For every time I'm genuinely touched by a box of dishes, towels etc. left anonymously at my door there's this evil little bitch in my brainpan hissing shit like "Check it, man, real people can give away better shit than you ever had." or "They're only helping you 'cause yr a pathetic failure."

     Now I don't believe her. Not really. Not all the time. But she's always there, just waiting to get her chance behind the wheel.  I've spent the last 5 days trying to rid myself of the idea that my house burned because I'm a bad person. I haven't been successful. I've felt, alongside major gratitude, guilt and shame for needing charity from the community. Notice I didn't type 'my' community. I'm not there yet. I actively refuse to belong to much other than failure (and the greatest barband in the world) and have no idea why.

     For the sake of endless, useless argument, let's assume there's a god. Part of me thinks she blessed me and part of me thinks she missed me. But it doesn't matter what I think. It doesn't even matter what you think. What is, is. Yours, mine, theirs and oursand theirs. But no matter how many books we read or not. No matter how good or evil we are to one another in the end, we are all alone. And 95% of 'mine' currently sits in smolders not 300 yards away, my frightened cats dancing through the ashes.

     But I should be happy, right? Right?

     Well, fuck you!.

     5 stages to go...........................

Posted by: timbyrnes at 01:10 | link | comments (20)

Fire in the Whole

    What is today? Thursday? Right. Well, it was Monday morning round about 10. Me and my bassplaying buddy Kenny were having a cup of coffee at the Quickee's Convenience store where I work when my neighbor Steve came in and told me my house was on fire.

    A quick 4 block drive later I'm standing outside the burning shell of my home, pretty much repeating the F word over and over. Don't worry, though, the cats all got out a back window and Buster and Sara were rescued by our local firefighters. Sara, bless her heart my 14 year old hardlife baby, needed oxygen on scene, but is alive and well, albeit a little dusty.

    Truth be told they both look like they both look like they've been shot out of cannons. Once I knew the kids were ok I both relaxed and allowed myself to freakout at the same time. But a funny thing happened. I turned around and saw the concerned faces of my friends, who I had no idea had showed up. My sister appeared out of nowhere. My landlord gave me the keys to my new apartment, #9 in the same facility. My neighbors came out w/dishes and bowls and petfood and leashes and within a half hour my babies were walked, fed and sleeping on new blankets in our new home.

     My guitar, bass and amp survived, singed but intact. In fact they all (especially the amp) look cool as hell with that smokedamaged funkvibe that players spen years trying to achieve!

    In the last few days I have been repeatedly stunned and humbled by the generousity of the people of my town. People I don't even know are leaving boxes of things outside my place, my friends and family seems to be greater than I ever imagined and you can believe I'm feeling pretty shitty about all that crap I've spouted about the 'innate evil' of human nature. As the poet once said "You need a good calamity to set you straight".

     I'm still in a little shock I think and will most likely be ranting about the unfairness of toothpaste before too long but right now I feel lucky to be alive (That's right, I said it!) and am still processing the whole mess. And while I've lost things (My Stooges LP!, My Velvets bootlegs!) I think I've gained yards more in terms of perspective and a better appreciation of life and my fellow man.

   See y'all soon, I gotta go buy like everything. But I'll be smiling as I do.

tb

    

Posted by: timbyrnes at 17:13 | link | comments (2)

you wanna play, pinhead, let's play......

 

There Is No Good: A PRB Refutation of the Idiot Mind

     Anyone still lingering here has read the ridiculous patter going back and forth between myself and a man named Jim who has courageously paraded his stupidity across these pages even after I have asked him to please stop. What the little peckerhead hasn't realized is that, up till now I've actually been polite, at least for me. I am so sick of his drivel that now the gloves are off. (Note: Believers who are easily offended might want to leave now, or at least start arming their deathsquads 'cause that's what offended religios ultimately do).

    My idiot friend posted in a comment on an earlier post that (and I quote) "It's a fact that there is a God" (capital his) to which I say pure and utter bullshit. There may be a god. I doubt it. There may not be a god, which is what I believe. But to state that it's a fact implies that it's provable. To prove there is a god one has to prove their knowledge of a) how the world began and b) what's going to happen to us when we die.

   Anyone, and I mean ANYONE (and, sorry Simmons but I think this includes you and many of yr loved ones) who claims to have such knowledge is either duped, stupid or both. Can one BELIEVE they have this knowledge? Sure! You can believe in the fucking Easter Bunny if you want, as long as you don't attempt to pass legislation based on yr belief in the fucking Easter Bunny. But to say you KNOW, that yr beliefs are true simply because you hold them so dear is so arrogant as to come close to narcissism.

 To me, god, heaven and spiritual redemption in the afterlife are clearly all constructs devised by the powerful to keep the powerless in check. Back in the day when the Church was the State, Popes ruled and robbed the peasantry of money and culture, co-opting pagan feastdays to fit their Christian fiction. And it is fiction, people, bullshit pure and simple. Virgin birth? I'm thinking the 15 yr old Mary got knocked up by Joseph (or worse, some shepherd) and claimed to have been visited by an angel. Folks in that time being far less sophisticated in thought than MOST of us today bought it hook line and parthenogenesis. Walking on water, rising from the dead: pure and utter bullshit sold down the centuries to millions of weak minds, weakened by the very power structures that have the most to gain from the continued acceptance of and fealty to these absurd fictions.

     But be sure to give them 10% tithe of what you make. Why? So these people can live in better houses than us while they tell us how unworthy we are in the eyes of some Lord their crew invented thousands of years ago? What exactly do priests and ministers DO for a living? Seriously, why do we take this shit? Why do we as a nation not question the absurdity of the position that absolute knowledge of life, death, good, evil and the creation of life can be gained by reading (and, most importantly, swallowing) one book.

    One fucking book who's 4 "gospels' don't even agree w/each other.

   And it seems to me that the ones who proclaim their faith and goodness the loudest are always the ones bombing the homes of other believers and looking for pieces of tail in men's rooms across the world. Not that I think there's anything wrong w/looking for tail in mens rooms. I don't do it, and if hit on I would politely demur but it's the hypocrisy that pisses me off. And one wouldn't have to be hypocritical if one didn't attempt to sell oneself as a believer/defender in something 'sacred'.

Say it w/me now: NOTHING IS SACRED!!!!! 'Sacred' is a concept devised by early religious 'leaders' to keep the proles from asking questions. At least that's the way I see it. My opinions have been formed from personal experiences w/religious folks who I run into everywhere who think it's their duty to 'save' me. And anytime I try to have an intelligent discussion about why I don't believe I'm always met w/shit like 'Well, the Bible says..." which is where I stop listening because the Bible is a hodgepodge of ancient and outdated laws and ghost written letters attributed to Saints and Jesus' friends, all of whom were like 400 yrs dead by the time the 'books' were allegedly written.

The Church in America, especially the Catholic Church has become a haven for pedophiles, a safehouse for stolen art and Lester knows how much fucking money changes hands between the Pope and the Mafia while thousands starve to death every day.

So don't tell me about yr fucking god, Jim. Please don't tell me about anything anymore because you know eactly as much as I do about the origin of the species and what happens when we die.

Which is absolutely fucking nothing.

Posted by: timbyrnes at 05:31 | link | comments (21)

It's Not Dark Yet But It's Getting There

     Greetings poetry lovers! So sorry to have been away for so long - and so depressing the last few times I've been here. It's been a wierd 3 years plus ride through the divorce rebuild, joblessness and too much job followed by the numbing depression that, while I'm nothing more than a 52 yr old convenience store hack and wanna be rocker/critic/philosopher it's A) all my fault and b) I'm lucky to be alive and should be happy.

     There's that word, should, that psychological bugaboo of expectations both dashed and met. Looking back on the last few decades I can clearly see where I made my mistakes (quitting jobs, drinking/drugging too much, quitting school, 3- count 'em - 3 divorces. A feeble mind toward suicide (the most noble of deaths) but neither the nerve or the commitment neccessary to follow through. So what I've been left with is a mess of my own making, murder in my heart for the world and a clear unwillingness to be happy with what I have.

    So, fuck me I guess.

     Anyway I've resigned myself to being a miserable creature who does little more than hate w/a capital H, pummeling my new 4 track w/more poorly recorded songs denouncing god, love and the myth of the caring society. Everybody dance. Sounds like fun, right? Believe me it's even less fun living this life than reading about it. Especially when my little tonepoem home has been infested and infected by my self appointed guardian angel/nemesis Jim who feels that all my problems will be fixed if I start to believe in the same invisible man as he does, in the exact same manner.

     Bullshit. The more I investigate the reasons behind my lack of exhuberance for life, the more I'm convinced that I'm completely justified in my simmering rage. I have a situational depression: that is, my life actually sucks. But that's all, really. I mean when you really look at it, dear reader, yr life probably sucks too, but as resilient human beings we employ that wonder product of the 20th/21st century, denial. Denial makes the world go 'round right? I mean religion: many deny that killing in a war slips by the 'Thou shalt not kill' commandment. Bullshit. Politically, many (too many if you ask me) are able to listen to our war criminal president w/a straight face. Personally, many turn to the starving of the world, not to regret or heaven forbid attempt to change these sorry states of affairs but to make themselves feel better about their own sad lives. Quiet desperation. Hell, it ain't all that bad Bubba, ya could be a-starving over in that Sudan there etc.

     We are, at heart, a selfish species, who invent fatherfigure gods we can pretend to be good persons for, but let me write this out loud: If there were a god, he/she/it/them would wipe us off the face of the planet for our crimes against the same. Much like as Zappa noted once "If yr children ever realized how lame you were, they'd murder you in yr sleep." Go ahead and kill this messenger but violence solves everything and it's always been that way.

     Well, I don't feel any better. You?

   Maybe next time I'll write about music (I really like Sam's Town by the Killers) but I've still got a lot of crap left. I was gonna delete this blog completely, Jim, because I'm so SICK of finding yr crap here, but the more I though about it, that'd be like letting the terrorists win. And make no mistake, Jim, you and yr religio-fascist ilk are terrorists, forcing yr fantasy upon the masses. Well, I'm sorry Bunky but you fucked w/the wrong freedom fighter this time.

    To all the folks still reading this drivel, I love you with all my heart.

     Except for you Jim, you can go straight to the hell you invented for all I care.

     Honest enough for yr ass, Sparky?

Posted by: timbyrnes at 05:42 | link | comments (16)