AJ's Diary
Random thoughts and acts of Mayhem since March 13, 1999

 


12 February, 1999
Well, at long last we have shots Of the Mighty Pouted one taken in the last decade... Nytshaed acquired new shots of Punky taken about two years ago at his POB back east. Seems he's in the tanning biz now. He looks good for a man of his advanced age. Too bad he didn't take me up on my offer, he would look better yet. Nytshaed still thinks he's a "hottie" but I can tell this has shattered her fantasy percep of him. Just like Philip and Rik before. Time is not kind to those subject to aging. I will have to admit Punky definitely is the better looking of the trio. She tells me she would still do the mattress boogie with him. I wonder if she would he asked her at the right place and time. I'd get off feeling him, I know that. Pity we will probably never know the answer to that one. I don't ever see it happening for several reasons. The bondage of marriage being one.

14 February, 1999
Last night was the Mardi Gras Party here. Fourth annual for them or some such. I don't recall much except what Nytshaed does. I was Deep-In I guess. It seems the normally Mundane got wild on the Hurricanes, and the Bedroom Toys made an appearance. The more braver souls got paddled to NIN and ZZ Top. Nytshaed tells me it freaked her out. Mundanes getting kinky scare her. She thinks there was a swinger couple here. The hubby was blasted from the get -go and was shadowing Mitch all night like a dog in heat. I might have too. Nytshaed had him all made up as a '70's Glam rocker complete with make-up leopard coat, black velvet pants, and moc boots. He was quite a tasty site. Dunno why I was locked out of all of it, perhaps that was for the best.

27 February, 1999
Worked on my web page today. Nyt is depressed, sick, ragging and shit. Basically no fun to be around. I really miss Bast. We need her back. At least she made herself useful and got sounds on my site. Not too bad of a waste of a day I guess.

13 March, 1999
Emotionally, we are feeling better these days. Rik had a bummer thing happen to him last week. Caught his Youngish Old Lady fucking her ex on her balcony after he left earlier that night. What a slut. I've done some cold and evil shit in my life, but no one deserves to have that done to them. He loved her, poor sap. He'll recover. Got laid last night. Nyt and the hubby got together and did it my way. Very nice. I need to let that happen more often.

18 March 1999
Restless. I feel an odd restlessness in what would be called a soul if I were to possess one. At the same time, I feel a content that is most uncharacteristic. I need to go. Need to travel. Nyt won't be going to LA 'til May to see Rik. No doubt I will have to wait until then. This weekend is the Jap Anime thing she is attending, not really the kind of outing I need.

2 April 1999
Some lyrics written while waiting for Chinese takee outtee...

Cold Eyes

You make me hard when I look at you
Inside is the drive of evil things to do.
You draw me near, it becomes so clear
My favorite scent is the smell of your fear.

Cold eyes cold eyes
Listen up, I'll only tell you lies
Cold Eyes cold eyes
To never have looked would have been wise.

I lie waiting in darkness veiled
I jump, I strike your face is paled
Victim mine, fall at my attack
I've crossed the line no turning back.

Cold eyes cold eyes
Listen up, I'll only tell you lies
Cold Eyes cold eyes
To never have looked would have been wise.

The stuff of life is now just rivers of gore
Close your eyes, feel, t ouch, breathe no more
The Angel of Death, yeah it could be me
Cross my path, and from this life I'll set you free.

Cold eyes cold eyes
Listen up, I'll only tell you lies
Cold Eyes cold eyes
To never have looked would have been wise.

28, September 1999
It has been a long time since I last wrote. I do not believe in superfluous speech or writing where there is no cause for it, however, my fans and public clamor for my words.

 


10 February 2000
More Poetry, I know, nothing new for months. Creative constipation is a bitch.

Cloak of Night

My cloak of night, it swirls around me
Hiding me from sight, sound and storm.
My cloak of night, curls at my feet,
The blackness unfathomable, the coldness unbearable.

My cloak of night swells to include, the world, the sky the stars.
My cloak of night, it can hide me from you, and you from yourself.
My cloak of night a silent lover so attentive,
My cloak of night the only garment I require.


29 June 2000
It was a night off, one of few during the tour. It was somewhere in Nor Cal, can't recall where, not that it would matter much if it did. Normally when I feel this odd clostrophobia walking along streets is not my bag. This night it was however, and with Nyt by my side we wandered around in the drowsy heat of the night. there wasn't much talking, we were both too tired for that, just not ready to veg in the bus or at the hotel.

Dinner was at a local place, Italian, Mexican, I can't recall. She ate, I drank. Blissfully we were left alone despite the imminent concert the following night. Of course, eating at a local dive is not exactly the place the fans and groupies would be looking for a Rock God. Anyway, we finished eating, and walked around. It was dusky out, and warm and she knew the area, great little places to shop. Great, my least favorite of all sports, including buying for me. Again, I digress...

On the way back from shopping, we had to again transgress an overpass over a freeway to return to where Camp Death was that evening. By the time we reached there, it was dark, and those noisy tree insects were at a full buzz. I dunno, I was struck by the moment, and we lingered there for a while. Leaning against the railing we watched the stream of traffic pass under us and watched as the purple sky became black. I slipped around behind her, and luckily we both were on the same vibe for a change. I embraced, she melded back against me, and then turning, we kissed. Fuck she can kiss, and I am no slouch either. I can suck face for hours an not even need to fuck if the other person is equal to me in skill. On and on it went, and even though it was all so right, something was bugging me.

"What is it?"

"I dunno," I said, looking around, "Do you hear that?"

"What?"

<sigh> "That hissing shit," I looked around, then over the side of the railing and through the fence at the side of the overpass. "Will ya look at this shit?!"

Nyt looked. Some waste of life banger was tagging the side of the fucking overpass. Now, to do something like that with traffic below takes balls, I have to give him that, but fuck. See, I used to 'bang' as they call it now. Gangstas, homies and all that horseshit. We rumbled. Skin and blades. Guns were for pussies, and the law. I proudly bashed heads, stuck greasers, and lived to tell the tale and then some.

"Hey you fockin' piece of shit!" I barked down at him. Tagging was cool if you were marking your turf, but not a goddamed overpass. What kind of fucking crew needs to advertise on the freeway?! I hated seeing that shit from the windows of my bus when I traveled. Call it a pet peeve. Anyway, he yelled something back up at me and when I saw him toss the spray can aside and got for something in his jacket, I did likewise.

I shoved Nyt aside as he pulled out heat, and I drew steel. Again he yelled some gutter Spanglish at me and drew a bead with his Glock. I laughed and reached through the fence to the repel rope he was using to hang there, and started to hack at it.

THAT pissed him off I guess cuz he shot at me. I ducked, no big deal. Nyt screamed and grabbed concrete like a good girl. Never have to worry about her in a fight, she knows how to get the fuck out of a man's way so he can work. Anyhow, I just glared at him and told him that bullets only piss me off and kept cutting. He shot again, and I'll be damned if he didn't wing me this time.

"Fuck! That HURT!"

"AJ?"

"Yeah, ten seconds this will all be over, " I yelled back to her as I redoubled my efforts and sawed away at the rope. He was toast now, put a hole in a nice fucking jacket for no good reason.

"Traffic!" She yelled, always the backup.

"Yeah." I said, nearly severing the rope as he shot again, and began climbing up towards me. I looked him dead in the eyes, then glanced back over his shoulder briefly, then back at him, "You're garbage, Cal Trans will sweep you up in the morning." I told him over the roar of the traffic.

He called me something that referred to one that molests mothers I guess, but then how would he know? Anyway, no one could say I have bad timing, I severed the rope and spit in his face just at the right moment so that he hit the pavement just before the Pepsi Truck smeared him.

Horns, brakes squealing, brake smoke, ah the stuff of a night out. When I turned around, Nyt was already getting to her feet. She dusted off her pants and gave me "that look". Yeah, yeah, I now. I have an impulse control problem, ain't that why I am in therapy anyway?

Fin.