Poem by Mr. France
We had to plan a meeting; Mr. Del Olmo was sure to attend with his child in hand, and John Garcia most slumberously stated
that he would drag along his mother in her proper case and drop her off in the bandroom during classes. Was This IT? Yes,
this was definitely not a Gray Essay. This was not Danny's room; this was a darker, onion-splattered lovecave seeping lustly
with ink blood streaming from the molding corpse. It was molding! And just when I looked, Rado sugggested that we paint it.
Naturally, I had my oils in my overalls. I fumbled through my old Fionas records and, after singing gallantly, found the paints.
God, this was like Austin Kearns' greatest dream. Lord, Austin, you cannot be unloved and we continue to love you more with
every smile and knudge and sarcastic gossip-sesh with the Blondie Shoe Gals that you engage in. And we have "not played any
concerts," states Danny, but we, silently, know we have. Bryan has played at every club on the Strip, though not physically
or in this plasticized world we call the "Realitttty." Bryan, wandering in his sunburst-stricken "Of Perception" brown
book, off-green anti-bathtup woochipper buys the newspaper and absorbs and sits and thinks, but rarely presents. That's why
we love him. Rado is a strumming ghost at the Virtual World Cafe and we creep into our John Calabrese beds with the shivers
and a blinded excitement about the future ahead -- about your damned UCLA -- about your damned NYU -- about every Barbie we'll
lovingly kick the living hell out of. And, thus, (mind you,) we approach the final, lingering question here: "What Is Foxygen?"
See, it's a warped Bubblegum Rock Fantasy, though it's definitely not any rock n' roll Neon Farm. The Fionas -- THAT was Rock
N' Roll. Transmissed.
a sam poem by jonathan rado
down and boom huckjam with the new aids in a Jewish waiting room, everyone sees you but you don’t care that you have
a chocolate-coated walrus attached to your tentacles. What can be cool then the neon aids, they’re the Kool aids say.
Everyone must die. I bet Hitler plan to take over the world and kill the Jews was a bet that he had with his poker buddies
“hey, Hitler, you know what would be funny?” “Vat?” “If you wiped out a whole religion!!!!!!”
tee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee. Sam France’s smooth vocals overdub the awesome venvocilistic tactics of a reverb=drenched radocaster
drone. Oh god I want a ribwich, who’s with me, and maybe afterwards well kill some Jews. Drink some semen outufa hot
shot glass you Jesus lover. And the lord said unto Moses “let there be alcohol, drugs, drunk driving, and promiscuous
sex!!” and then I killed ‘im. Adam was a horny bastard, so he raped eve. Ooooo…….dark. Noah built
the freakin’ ark, Jean-William. That’s the end of number one I said when the cop tried to put his pee pee into
my poo poo. Ewwwwwww…rado!!!!!!! Icky!!!!!!!!
a sick story by Kevin.
a bunny was having a baby in my back yard and i guess it wasint coming
out so the bunny decided to rip the baby bunny in half and it ate the baby's tail and left the body there and a crow swooped
down and picked it up and then it started to eat it in the bird bath. it looked like a fetus before the crow got it.
Foxygen - the crappiest/best band on earth, depending on who you talk to.