i refuse to write about sex.

– 7:54:28 PM

i love the contradictions of the human experience. i love the differences and insanities and illogical parts of us that make no sense except to oneself.

i love how people can write in great detail about every aspect of their paranoias and psychoses and illnesses and fears but cannot write about “drugs” and refuse to write about “sex”.

and i type this without a tap of sarcasm.

you don’t get that sort of complexity in lord of the rings i don’t care how many times you rent it.

lick magazine, dear child, isn’t solely about the brass rings of lcd

how many times you’ve spread your legs

or popped pills

or snorted

or banged

your head

or how you did it

or with whom

or how it made you feel

or how it made you not feel

its not about threeway kissing on x in the parkinglot of a dead show in oakland where afterwards you exhaled and could see your breath but you were warm and toasty inbetween those hippy girls.

its not about the time you dropped acid then sucked nitrous and watched the sun set and then melt into the ocean while listening to brass monkey on a homeless mans boom box and feeling your soul float up and up and away from you

its not about being fifteen in the fourteenth row at the back in black tour, going alone because nobody else’s mom trusted them the way yours trusted you.

lick magazine is about writing about the things that you wouldn’t normally write on your own blog.

its about writing little things about things you refuse to write about

its about writing long things about things you cannot write about

its about writing things that you do know jack about since you’re the one who saw jack and meg in fucking pomona.

you’re the one with the kurdt print when everyone else is lucky to have the poster.

rock is the part of us who embraces the darkness and says yeah man ive missed that.

drugs is what we take to silence the devil in us that says we don’t know jack

and sex is the deliciously low carb reward

you don’t have to write for lick right now or ever. you don’t have to tell me it’s you when you email me from an anonymous email addy.

but you do have to remember that people read you and love you and are inspired by you regardless of your ridiculousness cuz most of us can see through the blahblahblah and into the rock.

don’t listen to that bullshit artist whispering in your ear that you don’t know jack

write the good stuff

and when you’re scared, send it to lick

melting dolls + massimo bernardi + 835

mick kelleher rides his bike through the detroit suburb

with a tshirt that says iowa

and his two year old behind him in a kiddie seat.

hes nearly forty now and as skinny as he was when 17

i think about how he warmed

the bench for the Flubs in the 70s and

he thinks that life is grand and i wanna die

i wanna have my skull crushed in a trash disposal unit

one whose walls close and metal squeals and wood snaps

and guts spews the cubs werent shit with him

and im not shit without you.

the fellas across the street sit on the abandon couch fat

drinking the new flavor of budweiser

talking about lots of people but not skinny number twenty

lie about lots of girls but not you

this girl had most of her hair shaved down there

better eyes well differnt at least

soft skin yawn

and even she talked of you

mick knows im a fool

and where are these destructo fields

where you walk on a blade of grass

and it slices you

where is this place called peace

where can i get more than a piece

i wanna quit young like mick

i wanna be your top draft pick

i wanna fuckin have it now

i wanna see the holy cows

bastitch + sahalie + annika

i dont know why this shit isnt on pay per view. or have the counties sell the feeds to court tv and get a cut of the advertising. people are so lame. nobody knows how to make a buck. only way they know how to fleece america is through speed traps and shaking down the poor.

im not happy to be here today. its cloudy. i dont like seeing LA like this. it deserves more than this. i also hate the fact that we have a big meeting today, every tuesday. its ok if its really a tuesday but because we got yesterday off its a monday. nobody wants to go into a meeting on monday when theres nothing to talk about. it just cuts into the day. it ruins the day to be honest. but still it happens. like clockwork.

nothing good in my life happens like clockwork. maybe i should make sure that Lick happens like clockwork then. stoke the world every sunday night before the Simpsons.

pretty girl just asked me if i had hella writers sending in shit for Lick and i said yeah. she said wow. i said i only did it to impress her, to make her think i was cool. she said she Did think i was cool. i said see.

then she sent me a topless pic.

thanks baby.

karisa went to vegas this weekend. the whiners at the View are in vegas right now. why am i not in vegas right now. why am i here. why arent i traveling the world making everyones damn day. why am i sitting here just getting older and older.

why must i compare myself to bukowski who didnt do shit until he started writing at 35 and didnt really get published till he was 40. i got published right outta school. poems just like him. i would put the rejection letters on my kitchen walls. i thought i would line the walls with the little half sheets but before i could begin to feel sorry for myself i started getting acceptance letters. and even checks.

then the connecticut poetry review misspelled some of my best shit and i swore i would never write for anyone else again.

unless they paid serious money to fuck my shit.

i have the most wrinkled shirt on in the world.

a pretty girl said she liked my hair cut as she walked past and stumbled on her own feet. super cute but my buddy has dibs.

madpony still hasnt updated + read metafilter before it crashes again + azarok

im always so happy when an update is complete.

and raspil makes it so easy.

the writers usually ask me a few questions and then after a while they send me a story. i read it, sometimes i will do something minor to it, but rarely.

then i send it over to raspil and she lays it out and designs it and sends it back to me. i put it on the lick server, tweak it a tad, make a cover, adjust the table of contents and we’re done.

it’s not hard.

the hard part is finding the writers and thanks to the busblog, there are plenty of writers who want to join in.

this week there are eight new peices.

still for some reason i slack. and procrastinate. and not do shit because im slaggin on what is supposed to be a fun experience. im so retarded it’s… retarded.

this week’s lick cover girl is tiffany who surprised me with that picture tonight in a chat and it was perfect just the way it was and i was all please can i use that and she said yes and i was stoked.

tiffany and i have had a very interesting relationship over the last year.

usually it’s something along the lines of

i love you.

no, i love YOU.

and then nothing for a month or two.

i cant say i really know her but what ive read from her blogs and chats she seems exactly like the type of girl i would never approached in school. quiet girls freaked me out.

maybe they still do. maybe thats why i like her. maybe its nice to be freaked out when nothing freaks you out any more.

i like that picture cuz even though shes looking straight into the cam theres still stuff being covered up, stuff being stuffed away, secrets, silences, mysteries, questions.

tiffany is a college gurl but in that pic she looks so young but is that the hairstyle of a highschool girl? maybe. doubt it though. is she happy or sad? hot or cold.

hot is the answer.

lick is the answer.

this girl knows.

special thanks this week to tiffany and to raspil and to mr. os who switched this blog to a new server flawlessly.