The Undefined Domain

Project Mixtape

2010-05-28T09:25:00.000-07:00

Tracklist:

1) Smashing Pumpkins - 1979

2) Marcy Playground – Sex and Candy

3) Red Hot Chilli Peppers – Under the Bridge

4) Soundgarden – Black Hole Sun

5) Alanis Morissette – Ironic

6) The Verve – Bittersweet Symphony

7) Bush - Swallowed

8) Live – I Alone

9) Pearl Jam – Better Man

10) Radiohead – Creep

11) Nada Surf - Popular

12) Eels – Novocaine for the Soul

13) Butthole Surfers – Pepper

14) Stone Temple Pilots – Plush

15) Third Eye Blind – Semi-Charmed Life

16) Oasis – Wonderwall

17) Pixies – Where is My Mind

18) Foo Fighters – Everlong

19) Metallica – Enter Sandman

20) Nirvana – Smells Like Teen Spirit

Autopilot

2010-05-03T20:14:00.000-07:00

We're on autopilot, the lot of us.

Single file queues and single shots of whiskey (on the rocks), we follow the leader. Ghost lines, we follow. Airports, train stations, the taxi to nowhere - we're on autopilot. Slave away at blazing furnaces for little trinkets in your daughter's ear, we become the people we hate. Your mother, your father, the hobo at the corner of the street.

I bet he loved once.

Fight against the system, you say, fight against oppression, you say. When the fight is over, the heroes lie like old dogs out in the thin, wintery sun, battle scars across their ribs. Crumbs for the mongrel! Crumbs for the mongrel! Ask them to fight once more and they'll tell you, the big wars have already been won.

The Distance to Here

2010-02-20T00:34:00.000-08:00

I have the Pumpkin's Silverfuck on repeat.

I long for life before Zeitgeist, or even Machina, for that matter. Serial killer Friday nights lead to Saturday night wrist and endless cups of cold coffee, saved drafts and stalking of the social networking variety. Bile and vitriol in white porcelain espresso cups, I'll let you swallow a shot at a time. Now now, any more and you'll choke. Not that I like you or anything, you already stink of mental death. But necro is only fun while the body is still warm and the eyes freshly glazed - save the rigor mortis for marriage and the missionary position.

Constantly stuck between the last line of the first verse and the chorus, I'm still waiting for life to start. And life, life sucks young blood and Thom's lazy eye. Real life, what a laugh. Cynicism is a job hazard, killing from the inside out, like sex with strangers and cancer. I cushion pessimism with words and call myself a Realist. My mother believes in God, my father, in vino veritas.

Let us fall. Let us draw hearts in the sand, <3's in text, I'll join the dots between the beauty spots on your thigh and your romanticism of love. You'll call me "the one" and I'll enjoy fucking your mind for a little while.

Paint me red, paint me black.

Spin the girl at the tangent, the apex of contradiction, it's all me. We suck young blood, mental vampyres searching for more than a generation of apathy.

Kurt would be proud, so, so proud.