Summertime, what a great time when confusion ensues and you think vague thoughts like the ones I’m typing now.  The first digital magazine issue of “FearLoatheLB” is underway and slated for an early to mid-July launch.  Some wild interviews and coverage of all topics in my head at the moment, with some help.  Stoned at the beach or playing guitar in a hidden corner brings to mind some ideas about a piece of reading material and why would you want to do it?  What do I gather while in the middle of my own scattered puzzle activities?  Well fuck, it’s like why the fuck do I read something?  In addition, what awesome communities of reckless abandon occupy the neighboring or not so neighboring crazy flat-out-fucked world I hang out in?

NONE.  And NONE.  I decided to see what underground art and activities take place in the Greater Los Angeles area.  Notable exceptions were lone wolf types that just wanted to express themselves, but not even as cliché as that, more like just “doing something” for the sake of fucking “doing something”, which holds way more weight than pretending to toy with expression because you have a new app for your phone or some meaningless piece of shitty music or prose that painfully mimics other bad shit done by someone else toying around to score a “hit” or get “famous”.  TOTAL BULLSHIT, I love the disillusionment though.  Fascinating, watching somebody search for an identity or uniform that grants some sort of acceptance by other invisible people. 

That being said, I’m doing a Rock n Roll magazine and keeping it seedy with every inappropriate detail.  Inappropriate detail is of the highest order, I think those details are the only thing that keeps up paying attention to one another.  While the days roll ahead and blurry evenings fill the smoking room, here’s my top 5 Summer songs, at least tonight.  

In the meantime, this is an omitted piece for a book I don't care for... enjoy!

A LOOK BACK AT THE BEGINNING OF THIS

  In the middle of the 1990’s, the Prostitutes alienated me from my friends, family, and other mainstream fare as far as I remember.  We lived recklessly, listened to hot new singles by the Problematics, Gaunt, Ashley Von Hurter, and Killed by Death Vols. 1-9.  Those moments were the best-unexpected bursts of life that ever happened to me at the time. 

 

  Parting is painless as long as there’s a bottle of Ten High and a line of unholy intervention.  No rules, no dogma.  How would that apply to us growing up in the middle of American nowhere, when does the next bus leave?  What was the alternative?  A state job, smoking pot in your parents’ basement, or working at cardiac arrest-foods incorporated. 

 

  The real sounds of freedom and sordid rebellion screamed from the swamps of the Mid-Atlantic and Eastern Mid-West, with the occasional West Coast beach town.  The vibrations fell mostly upon deaf ears.  There was no tomorrow, some days there still isn’t.  Do what you want and when you want to.  If there’s a good beat and some dysfunctional sex appeal, it sure as hell beats the lifestyle doldrums of the cantankerous suburbs we assumed were a safety net but proved to be a frontal lobotomy for those who couldn’t comprehend the poor man’s Footloose of it all. 

 

  I just bought another cell phone 10 months ago, still regret it; I’ve changed the number and my psychological perspective too many times since 1998.  Change, change, change is inevitable… whether you are seeking it or begging a dollar from a young college idealist for your next Mickey’s.  No offense to higher learning but it appears to consist mostly of the training of schematics as opposed to the bondage of complacency and mediocrity. 

  No more nothing…...sometimes I wish.  However, those who shared their homes and lives with me will always have a place in my survival.  A dream…. maybe.  I can’t even get a hold of those people anymore.  They either moved on or disappeared.  Long distance land line bills, P.O boxes ….antiquities of the past.  Only precious vinyl records still exist from all of the wreckage of days gone by.  Fragmented pieces of evidence that I was there.  I toast to the days of pure deviance and unbridled excitement without apology. 

-Kevin McGovern (the Prostitutes)

What will 2012 have in store? Hopefully more of the above and then some… It never stops….. the clock is ticking, always.