jueves, agosto 26, 2004

>Stop! Polyphonic mic>>FORT WORTH, Texas (AP) -- The next time Brian Teasley gets on a plane,>he promises he'll ship his custom-made microphone. That same device>shut down five gates at Dallas Fort Worth-International Airport last week.>>Teasley, a member of Dallas-based pop-rock band Polyphonic Spree, had>been in Austin where the group taped an episode of "Austin City>Limits." He was taking a flight to his home in Birmingham, Ala., on>Thursday.>>The percussionist for the 25-member band had planned to do some>recording at home, so he put the microphone in his suitcase, he said>in Saturday editions of the Fort Worth Star-Telegram.>>When his suitcase didn't show up on the baggage carousel in>Birmingham, he filled out the missing-luggage paperwork and went home.>He didn't know the suitcase wasn't there because it was under scrutiny>at the Texas airport.>>A terminal area and several gates were closed briefly after a routine>baggage screening detected the device, which raised concerns because>of the wires and threading caps running through it. A bomb disposal>robot removed it.>>By the time Teasley arrived home, he had quite a reception.>>"I had Taco Bell in my hand, and all of a sudden, these cars block me>in my driveway. They've all got tinted windows, 'X-Files' style," he>said. "Then here comes one guy with a bulletproof vest on, another>with a gun showing. It was a very harrowing day.">

(Brian Teasley mejor conocido como Birdstuff, baterista de los desaparecidos man or astroman?)

jueves, agosto 05, 2004

I MIGHT(The Luxury Liners)
I let Peter and Tim sleepit off on my couch bed.They had sex for hoursuntil I punched the wall.I slept through breakfast.Peter helped make lunch.Tim and he took the busto the new shopping mall.They bought two DVDsand a certificate for me.I found a note from Peterin Tim?s fallen backpack.He took the news calmly.He?d wanted to tell mebut thought I?d freak out.His eyes look like mine.Our ideas are different.We walked a few blocks.I asked him to chooseand so he dumped me.I realize Tim fucked mebecause he felt flattered.He thinks less of me now.He apologized profuselythen took off with Peter.Peter fucked me for kicks.He kept his sweatshirt on,rolled up past the elbows.He washed his hands ofme by the next afternoon.Tim is a painter who didmy portrait that summer.They met at an openingwhere I coveted Peter?svery flattering self-portrait.Tim arrived here cryingthe morning they broke up.He crashed on the couch.It turned into his bedroom.Now they both live there.They might not stay long.They could turn out tobe less than great artists.We?ll all feel so cheated.That?s no reason to budge.
Dennis Cooper.

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