January 30, 2006
Just Words

New lyrics - pretty good, I think, so I'll share 'em with you ...

"Cling to Life like a Mascot - of the coming Charade
Play your Life like a Trumpet - through the Masquerade"

Been walkin' back and forth across this city
Ain't Nobody - nobody know the state I'm in
Been tryin' to wrap my mind around it, like the guy who walked through China with a wooden pack
(I've been bogged down)

Read "The Alchemist" - a gift from a friend of mine
Did you know that "gift" in german means poison?
We had a mean fight last Christmas, but he blamed it on his parents

(He's been bogged down)

Been up all night, watch the creeping morning sun
Can't sleep or eat, stuck in heavy solemn contemplation
But as I write, the Inspiration comes
I could turn in to the times, but would that solve the world?
Dunno ...

I've been to London, been to Disneyworld
Hitch-hiked to Bohemian Heaven undercover
I've scoured the planet, looking for the perfect girl
Like the poet said, they often say but do the other

She appears brifly in my dreams (smiles and dissapates)
back into the fog of twilight, ghosts do materialize it seems ...

Wish I had a candle to light this room
Note on a fifty dollar bill says, "I Love You"
Was it written for me, or was it retrograde?
Gotta change this money before I change my ways

One man's rat hole is another's Sanctuary
Let's go to Pakistan on a dare
Let's call that sax player who doesn't eat dairy
He'll be chompin' on veggie beans 'n' playin' solos in his underwear

Do they see who you are? Guess we'll never know ...
I heard Seattle's goin' to the Superbowl
Do they believe in the Calico?
Or are they all just waiting for the trophy?

Seen revolutions, seen towers fall
Seems one thing's constant through it all
and that's the neverending Human Blunder
... I just sit back sad with wonder ... (we've been bogged down)

Another one by Todd. Hope you guys all dig it.

Posted by calico at 08:35 PM
Fashion Rebel

Yeah, that's right - I'm wearing dress pants and wrestling shoes - deal with it ... -Todd

Posted by calico at 03:38 PM
January 25, 2006
If Jack Drops The Bomb ...

A Poem:

What if ol' Mr. Chirac decides to drop the Big One
just like he said he could -
I ran, I ran, IRAN so far away
You know I surely would -
("Come on, Eileen, Tou-louse Ta-lay")
No, no, Jack - it's Iraq, Iraq!
That's our orwellian Enemy,
ever-changing like Kinski's mood -
But I'll tell ya man to man
A nuclear war won't do anyone any good

I know very well that all those
"sand niggers" deserve to die -
And I know that quiche
is better than Apple Pie -
I run the risk of pissing off
all the rogues who wrote the Patriot Act -
But I ask you not to do it,
and now, here's exactly why ...

Hey, Jack - remember Jackie O
and how JFK lost his head -
Remember Bill Clinton
and how the world was blown away instead -
(You thought I'd put "head" right next to Clinton ...
But I didn't - too bloody obvious - we miss you, Sir William)
Remember John Lennon -
Remember Martin Luther King -
You see, violence isn't sexy
It's abhorrent, Jack, it's disgusting

Picasso went to Paris - to see the national treasure
Then he became one - think about it, Jack
BE a national treasure - no, it doesn't rhyme, real art seldom does

You were in Vietnam
a decade before the Yank -
Strange liberators, indeed
Haven't you learned a thing?
Ask Vanessa Paradis -
She's rather ride in a Renault than a tank!
And Algerian coffee's strong
but that whole endeavor stank ...

I've driven 'cross your country
5 musicians in a car -
The guitars duck-taped on top
reading the map, wondering where we are -
I've had Cafe Melange
And believe me, Jacky Boy
I've french-kissed a dame, or two -
But no, to France's finest
you would not be paying tribute

Can't we just give up this Imperialism thing
once and for all?!
And let the world live as one
one big happy, bouncing ball -
Now you've heard my 007 rant
And you've got big shoes to fill today -
The Queen of England was tough and staunch, too
but she was a terrible lay ...

Another one by Todd.

Posted by calico at 03:23 PM
For The Girl In Austria Who Wants To Believe

Thank you for you messages. Yes, the stories are all true ... (see previous) Remember, Truth is often stranger than fiction! We had fun last summer at that festival, didn't we? Green Day was great (that's right, I am the warm-up bunny), System Of A Down was great. Thank you for the message about your friend who carries my words around in her pocket. Wonderful! After I left your girls' tent (wow, that sounds sexy!) I found a nickel at Nickelsdorf (an euro, actually) on the ground. I hitch-hiked a thousand kilometers to Berlin (damn that stolen car!) and said to myself that I would save that magic euro until I got safely to Berlin, and use it to buy a coffee at a cool shop I know, where it costs eighty cents for a good strong cup of Joe, and that's exactly what I did!
Music is King. See you in A. Peace, -Todd

Posted by calico at 03:13 PM
January 24, 2006
The Dancing Bear

Todd told me there was a dancing bear in this picture... Free shot in Madrid from me to anyone who can find it...

- El Farto

Posted by Eliot at 12:51 PM
January 21, 2006
Enjoy The Silence

First of all, the MUSIC. Thass what it's all about ... Went to the Depeche Mode show in Berlin - what a SOUND!

Everything was great, wonderful in fact, but Martin, um - we really need to discuss that OUTFIT. Heh. So here goes ... took off to the show with my new bud from the band The Beatsteaks, so we'll call him Mr. Beat. We drove along in silence (like the song), until I rather abruptly told the story of being hit by that car way-back-when as a young teen, and almost getting my leg amputated. Arm broken in three places, sticking out like Zorro. Um, where'd THAT come from?? Decided to show my scars. Yeah, I never talk about it, actually. When you're so close to death, you really learn to put things in perspective. 'Tis true. He tried to one-up me by telling tales of this huge abandoned slaughterhouse (that we walked by) that before The Wall came down used to grind thousands of kilos of bone and gristle, and send it down the river. It smelled for miles, stanky. It's fun when you try to out-do each other with the grotesque. I imagined all those brick buildings, now empty, teeming with flesh. The day began with me eating all alone at a shittycheap chinese buffet, dry noodles and no wonder that no-one likes that place, and now we were talking about THIS! Perfect. It was all blood and guts, and now they're gonna turn it into lofts. Go figure. Made it to the concert hall right on time, along with about a zillion other people. First they couldn't find my name on the list (bastards!) and then something pretty surreal happened. The promoter's son (we'll call him Big Daddy Promo) and the guitar player from Rammstein (is anyone in Schwerin reading this?) came over to me and Mr. Beat, nodding to us and asking, "How many passes do you need?" Two, said Mr. Beat, and I'm still not sure whether they recognized him or me or us both or us neither, but we were suddenly in! (And we by-passed that long hourde of wanna-be-VIP's.) Totally surreal. Big Daddy Promo came through. We were in, the angels were really with us now, and the concert was about to begin ...

Wow, wow, WOW! What a sound! And Martin's voice sounded absolutely beautiful, angelic. Great guitar playing, too. So melodious! Nuthin' but love for you, man. Dave's voice was very strong, too - in that nonchalant baritone sort of way. Plus he had that skinny-man dancing-man thing going on. It was fab. He's a hip, suave Nancyboy. Me 'n' Mr. Beat made all kinds of heroin jokes, and all sorts of 80's bulimia jokes ("OK, we'll promote your band and make you stars, but you can't eat anything for TWENTY YEARS!") "I just can't get enough, I just can't get enough ... heroin!" The joke was compounded when I looked down on my pass and noticed that they'd hastily scribbled, "Depece." No "h" - get it, H! But it's really nothing to laugh about (especially after walking by all them cow-ghosts in that crematorium) and a hard thing to kick, I guess, and I wallow in guilt (taught to me as a young lad) even as I write this, and try to forgive myself for writing such yuck-yuck. Repent! But man, the concert was fabulous, with old hits and new, and I hope to be doing the same thing years down the road (with more food). Very inspiring - hats off!

After the show we went to a heavy metal bar called the "Metal Eck." This is the sort of place where all your nightmares come true. A strange demon welcomes you when you walk in, and there's a statue of a seductive nymph in the corner, with a red light shooting out of her pussy. 'Nuff said. This place is as close to heavy metal hell as you can get. Good beer, though ... My own personal Jesus was no-where to be found, but I know She was there. Ended up at about 5 in the morning over in Kreuzberg, watching some guy who was completely hammered, yelling at the burly turkish snack stand guys (not a wise thing to do) about how they're shit and their store is shit and the world is shit. ("You're just a worker! You're nothing! I'll cut you up!") This went on for a few minutes until the guy behind the counter just blew a fuse, and lost it - grabbing this enormous knife and thwacking it on the glass counter at the guy. Loud! Danger, danger. All I wanted was to munch on my turkish pizza, and I was still swooning in the love-vibe of that amazing concert. And this guy was about to get his head cut off! (By a knife slappin' macho, no less!) I imagined it rolling down the gutter, plop, and them cleaning up the blood with a squeegie. And me and this rocker guy named Dick Rules (Mr. Beat had already gone home) convinced him that if he didn't go right now, he was gonna lose his head. He shot me a speed-induced look and queeried all drawn out, "Are you scarrred?" No, we shouted, just jam! He did. I should've brought a sandwich for Dave Gahan. Heh. The snackstar macho wiped his forehead and said that he'd already been sent to jail twice for punchin' out late-nite creeps like that one. Eeek! Gets on my nerves, he said. Trouble at home? I asked. He nodded. It was the perfect ending to a long, adventurous night. Thank you to all the participants. Took the metro home at 6 am, with 13 singing Frenchies on the party train, coming home from some pub. Viva Life! Viva la MUSIQUE! Peace. -Todd

Posted by calico at 09:36 AM
In A Club With No Website

Sittin' here in a club without a website. I like that. The numerous African guys and Russians here seem to like it, too. Yeah, such things still DO exist. Timeless. Where the fuck am I?? -Todd

Posted by calico at 07:38 AM
January 09, 2006
Happy All-American International New Year!

Happy New Year To All ... THIS MEANS YOU!!!

New Year's journal entry: A kid from Hawaii, his pal from Alaska (formerly Russia) and his girlfriend from Michigan, all eating sushi in the Ostbahnhof (formerly Russia) train station in Berlin. Peace. -Todd

Posted by calico at 09:54 PM
January 07, 2006
And How I Did Bleed ...

"Let it bleed ..."

Went to go visit a friend, somewhere in Eastern Europe. Ramshackle building, call it rustic, the lights were out on the 2nd and 3rd floor. Nobody home at this late hour, so I skipped on down and headed out to the street level. I was almost all the way down to safety, when I missed a stair in the dark, lost my footing, and went flying. Felt like some demon pushed me from behind. But then (if that's true), my guardian angel stepped right in and I caught my balance. I was suprised how quickly I regained my balance, actually, because it could've been pretty ugly. Think quick! Said to myself in a split second, "This is the moment where you either grab something, break your fall, or break your neck ..." Nothing metaphysical here, naw, just missed a stair. But I was still falling, reached out for a railing or something solid, and hit some metal or glass along the wall in the dark. Felt like crocodile teeth. Felt a piece of my hand go rrrip and remain right back there on the railing. Mmmm, that warm feeling. Hit the bottom on my feet, and told myself repeatedly, "It's not so bad - I'll be fine - this is the moment where I HEAL myself." And it was so. Tune in. Then I looked down at my hand, and it was dripping a nice shade of redblue liquid. Oh, great. It wasn't as bad as it looked, but there was a big tear down my palm, and blood was oozing all over. OK, remember that Boy Scout training. Took a deep breath, and walked around the corner to a pizza stand to wait until the bleeding stopped. Strolled in, and the guy goes, "Holy shit! You're bleeding, we gotta wrap that up right now!" It was his language of choice, but I understood, and he ran out to his car to get tape and bandages. He even wrapped it up and put a big ambulance-ready bandage on it for me. The whole time he was looking at my hand intently, and smoking a cigarillo. "Knife?" he asked. "Nope," I answered, "dark hall, banana peel." Smile. He'd never seen me before, and here he was going out of his way to help. How it oughtta be. Great, full. He instantly became someone I admire. Then I sat back and took a look at myself in the mirror, and saw that there was quite a bit o' crimson all over me. A nice couple came in, and I tried to smile all friendly their way, but I just probably looked like Fight Club, or something. I said to my man, "I'll have, um, a coffee." It was mis-spelled on the menu, but if that wasn't just REAL. Real people, real pain, a real rescue team in a smokey KAFFE shop somewhere ...

My hand will be fine - it's been making steady progress the last few days, and I can already play the guitar. What did I learn from this? Either 1. Live in the west where the lights work, or 2. Bring a candle ... Peace. -Todd

Posted by calico at 09:24 PM