#Brass Camel

[thepermanentrainpress]

CONCERT REVIEW: BRASS CAMEL W/ CHASE THE BEAR AT WISE HALL - MAY 13, 2023

Chase the Bear and Brass Camel performed at the quirky and intimate Wise Hall on Saturday, May 13th. Tucked away in the Commercial Drive area of the city, surrounded by heritage homes and co-operative housing, the venue is a staple of the local music scene. In a world of mass audiences and global stadium tours, both bands showcased the magic of music engaged with the community.

Chase the Bear kickstarted the concert with blazing guitar riffs and Troy Gilmore’s magnetic, raspy vocals. The bandmates sported trendy retro outfits – a homage to their largely classic rock sound with subtle soul and pop. The band played through their setlist, which included the wild, western-flavoured “Five More Minutes,” the determined and desperate “Underwater,” the spunky and empowered “Quit Callin’,” as well as “Wildheart” – a song of energized longing. Connor Brooks’ drums were consistently confident, skilled, and lively; the beats pulsated through the crowd and into the soul. “It feels like we're in a coming-of-age movie,” I told my friend.

Brass Camel took to the smoke-filled stage with glamour and charisma. Daniel James emerged in a purple suit, white headband, and orange-tinted glasses. The crowd watched in awe as the band performed with their signature steely electric melodies, high-pitched vocals, and vintage synths. The whole scene felt massive and intense, despite being in a smaller hall. The band shredded through many of their released tunes, including the rowdy, sci-fi “Last Flight of the Vulcan” and the bouncy and playful “Dinger’s in the Back.” The melodies and notes had such a beautiful dynamic range in-person. While the studio versions of the songs are fantastic, there’s nothing like experiencing the artistry up-close and firsthand. Fingers maneuvered expertly during complex guitar solos. With each new song, the band transitioned seamlessly and with style.

The crowd was quickly wound up, even starting a mosh pit during the dramatic and feisty “King for a Day.” Brass Camel ended on a high note with the cool, catchy “Pressure Cooker” and jumpy and joyful “I’ve Got the Fox.” At no time was the crowd not bopping their heads or flicking their wrists. Eyes were glued to the stage when James brought out a sleek, double-prong electric guitar. Immediately after the show, the band members ran to work the merch table and connect with fans.

Chase the Bear and Brass Camel teamed up for a high-quality, fun, and inspiring concert. The event brought together a talented group of musicians who don’t get enough credit for the bonds they forge in communities across the country. Sparks were quickly and expertly cultivated and lasted the entire show, the heat rivalling the blistering temperatures of the day.

“So... do you feel brassed?” I asked my friend, as wicked guitar rung out and colourful lights faded at the end of the show.

“I feel brassed,” he declared.

Written by: Jenna Keeble Photo credit to: Heather Horncastle

#Dromedary Productions #Wise Hall #PRconcert #Review #concert review #Brass Camel #Chase The Bear #Music #live music #show #show review #gig #concerts #Vancouver #yvr #The Wise Hall #Jenna #Jenna Keeble #Daniel James #Daniel Sveinson

[mininete-perler]

San Diego Enclosed Mid-sized eclectic enclosed dark wood floor family room photo with a bar, blue walls and a wall-mounted tv

#brass #camel #vintage #travertine #lacquered walls #deep royal blue #mohair

[readmarkclippastecollage]

#fashion #camel hair coat #brass zipper

[ucitavanje]

Home Bar Family Room in San Diego Example of a mid-sized eclectic enclosed dark wood floor family room design with a bar, blue walls and a wall-mounted tv

#deep royal blue #camel #travertine #brass #mohair #lacquered walls #vintage

[julianscorpio]

How would you arrive at the Oscars? I'd definitely come riding in on something memorable! 🐫 Available: Brass Miniature Camel Figurine Find more unique treasures at @antiquesandthingsabq 4710 Central Ave. Albuquerque, NM Ask for Booth 86! Current Sale: 30% OFF on items over $20! #Brass #oscars #oscars2023 #oscarparty #whoyouwearing #oscarsafterparty #oscarsredcarpet #redcarpet #redcarpetfashion #brasscamel #brassanimal #brassart #brassstyle #brassdecor #brasstreasures #camels #camelsofinstagram #camelhump #abq #abqballoonfiesta #abqsmallbusiness #abqantiques #abqvintage #abqlocal #abqtodo #abqshopping #shopabq #abqnews #abqlife #abqrealestate (at Antiques and Things) https://www.instagram.com/p/CptXMN6vpKL/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#brass #oscars #oscars2023 #oscarparty #whoyouwearing #oscarsafterparty #oscarsredcarpet #redcarpet #redcarpetfashion #brasscamel #brassanimal #brassart #brassstyle #brassdecor #brasstreasures #camels #camelsofinstagram #camelhump #abq #abqballoonfiesta #abqsmallbusiness #abqantiques #abqvintage #abqlocal #abqtodo #abqshopping #shopabq #abqnews #abqlife #abqrealestate

[bloodstainedlovers]

San Diego Transitional Sunroom

#An illustration of a mid-sized transitional sunroom design with a medium-toned wood floor. wood floor #white windows #camel back #brass hardware #settee #blue white drapery

[spiritofindia]

Jazz up a corner of your house or office with this beautiful showpiece of craft. This handcrafted Rajasthani camel cart is made of pure brass with moving wheels. Shop Now: https://wa.me/918390903005 #Gemstone #Brass #Camel #Handicraft #Rajasthan #camelcart #Brass

#Gemstone #Brass #Camel #Handicraft #Rajasthan #camelcart

[peterfieldsberlin]

Bring some color into the upcoming season, today with...

-Saddle Shoulder Sweater in Charcoal by @fishermanoutofireland

-Lambswool Scarf 1972 by @johnhanly1893

-Le Grand Bonnet Beanie - orange peel by @lebonnetamsterdam

-Chup Socks Wool Bungalow - beige by @chupsocks

-Fatigue Shirt in Military Herringbone Twill and Fatigue Pant Straight in Olive Sateen by @tellason

-Éclair M Postman Bag in camel by @bleudechauffe @bleudechauffe.women

-Brass Pencase and Brass Pencil by @travelers_company

#menswear #inspiration #ootd #menstyle

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

sometimes when u go thrifting u have to put the little brass camels back on the shelf bc ideally we want to leave the worst of the midcentury orientalism behind and out of my house. even if they were brass and very darling out of context.

anyway came home and almost had a heart attack bc a tabby streak zipped off my front porch and i thought it was Phil but it was this unauthorized woman. who the fuck are you. what’s with your eye. are you related to Phil

#evil lair llc

[eriebasin]

A little antique camel brooch in brass with a little paste jewel dangling from his neck. Dates to c1920.

eriebasin.com

[satyrmagos]

Astrological talisman bearing an image and magical symbols associated with Saturn.

This talismanic image of Saturn is derived from the Picatrix, a Renaissance-era grimoire translated from its original Arabic, first to Spanish, then to Latin, and now to English:  “The image of Saturn, according to the opinion of Picatrix, is the shape of a man with a crow-like face and the feet of a camel, sitting upon a throne, with a spear in his right hand and a lance or dart in his left.” Picatrix Book II, Paragraph 11 (Attrell and Porecca, 2019)

The back of the talisman bears the Grand Planetary Seal of Saturn and the Characters of Saturn according to Agrippa.

Modern magicians call upon Saturn to set boundaries, build long-term / generational wealth, and to destroy their enemies.

The Picatrix says that, “Saturn is the source of retentive power. He governs an aspect toward profound knowledge; the science of law; the search for causes, effects, and the origins of things; the utterance of magical words; and the knowledge of deep and occult properties. … From the crafts, he rules working the soil, plowing, digging, extracting and working minerals, and the building trades.” (Book 3 Chapter 1 Para 3) and to “Entreat Saturn for delaying movement, concealing purity, destroying cities, humbling hearts, and calming waters.” (Bk 4 Ch 4 Para 5)

* Made of solid .925 sterling silver or shibuichi (an art metal alloy made of 3:1 copper:silver), yellow brass, red bronze, or lead. * Available as a coin, with an upeye for use as a pendant, or with three jump rings for use in a rosary-style necklace.

Each piece is hand-made to order in my home studio, with unique variations and defects as a result of the fabrication and casting process.

These talismans are NOT consecrated. That is your responsibility.

Astrological timing and consecration is available with a minimum of 30 days advance notice at an additional charge depending on the difficulty of the election.

#Occult Art #Talismanic Jewelry #Picatrix #Picatrix Talisman #Picatrix Saturn Talisman #Saturn #Image Of Saturn #Picatrix Image of Saturn #Witchcraft #Witch Jewelry #Pagan #Jewelry #Art Jewelry #Jewelry Art #Queer Artist #Queer Jeweler #LGBT #Sorcerers Workbench

[thepermanentrainpress]

BRASS CAMEL: BRASS

Brass – Brass Camel Release Date: September 9th, 2022

Track Listing:

1. First Contact 2. Dinger’s in the Back 3. I’ve Got the Fox 4. Pressure Cooker 5. King for a Day 6. Last Flight of the Vulcan 7. Easy 8. Shaking in my Boots 9. Only Love

Brass Camel’s LP Brass is an electrifying, retro smoke show. Its invigorating rock, jazz and blues blend gives listeners a scorching spectacular soundscape. Animated melodies and lyrics make the tracks a feast for the mind. The music is expertly mixed, producing a magnetic and cohesive collection that feels equal parts familiar and fresh.

“Dinger’s in the Back” is distinctive and fun. Daniel Sveinson’s classically sharp rock vocals pierce strong electric guitar riffs, as atmospheric lyrics pump up the party: “From the Hindenburg to the Albert Hall / the man won’t stop until he’s rocked them all.” “I’ve Got the Fox” is a funky pedal to the metal. Heavy guitar riffs and glossy synths rev up in a tune perfect for street racing. Curtis Arsenault’s electric bass is marvelously murky and thick, while Wyatt Gilson’s drums strut in a confident stride. Rich imagery is ignited by the lyrics: “Five litre demon cleaner rolling down the block / Burnt rubber one hundred metres shows you what it has got / Feeling like Jackie Stewart when I pull up to the spot.”

Galactic grunge settles in “Pressure Cooker.” Melodies dig in deep, as Sveinson and Arsenault harmonize in a colourful contrast. A heroic story marred by confrontation and retribution: “The fighting out in the streets / Of cities built on lies and deceit / Now we're really feeling the heat / Feels like we're living in a pressure cooker.”

Standout track on the album “King for a Day” is splendid satire; a fascinating musical interpretation of political power. “A legacy of spite and subjugation / Of wretched acts far beyond redemption / Was never in the plan when it all began / But the road to hell is paved with good intention.” Kaleidoscope-like call backs are scattered throughout the song, twisting and turning complex synths and electric guitars. The drums are quick, jumpy and bold. In a similar vein to Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy-use of iconic rock ballads, “Last Flight of the Vulcan” is a captivating retro-futuristic Star Trek homage. Sveinson’s electric guitar solo is impressively epic with shards of electric notes quickly building on top of each other. The lyrics transport you into interstellar ambience: “Tireless travels belting through the night and day / Outline of a delta that you can't mistake / Cratered fields reminders of the trails blazed.” 

“Easy” is wickedly groovy. “If only it had been easy / Could have been a real bad man / A calculated evil doer / A night-stalking saboteur.” An undercurrent of menacing piano and agile saxophone add elegance to a gothic scene. While the song still maintains the album’s classic synth pizazz and overall electric sound, the darker tones of “Easy” make it a remarkable experience.

If you’re looking for an energetic surge, Brass Camel has you covered. With charismatic vocals, striking guitar, cosmic synths and pounding drums, Brass is a stylish and slick reverence to the rock gods.

Written by: Jenna Keeble

#PRalbum #album review #review #Jenna #Jenna Keeble #Music #Brass Camel #Dinger’s in the Back #I've Got the Fox #King for a Day #Pressure Cooker #Last Flight of the Vulcan #rock #rock music #Daniel James #Daniel Sveinson #Wyatt Gilson #Curtis Arsenault #progressive rock #prog rock #Vancouver #yvr #Canadian Music #Vancouver Music #music review

[rivieiraa]

I am a boy in grey flannels with a belt fastened by a brass snake up here. Down there my eyes are the lidless eyes of a stone figure in a desert by the Nile. I see women passing with red pitchers to the river; I see camels swaying and men in turbans. I hear trampling, tremblings, stirrings round me. [...] I am a boy in a grey flannel suit. She has found me. I am struck on the nape of the neck. She has kissed me. All is shattered.

Virginia Woolf, The Waves

#virginia woolf #the waves #inspiration #quote

[iluvjesus666]

fuck it. chuck palahniuk's "guts" in pretty rainbow gradient

Inhale.

Take in as much air as you can.

This story should last about as long as you can hold your breath, and then just a little bit longer. So read as fast as you can.

A friend of mine, when he was thirteen years old he heard about "pegging." This is when a guy gets banged up the butt with a dildo. Stimulate the prostate gland hard enough, and the rumor is you can have explosive hands-free orgasms. At that age, this friend's a little sex maniac. He's always jonesing for a better way to get his rocks off. He goes out to buy a carrot and some petroleum jelly. To conduct a little private research. Then he pictures how it's going to look at the supermarket checkstand, the lonely carrot and petroleum jelly rolling down the conveyer belt toward the grocery store cashier. All the shoppers waiting in line, watching. Everyone seeing the big evening he has planned.

So, my friend, he buys milk and eggs and sugar and a carrot, all the ingredients for a carrot cake. And Vaseline.

Like he's going home to stick a carrot cake up his butt.

At home, he whittles the carrot into a blunt tool. He slathers it with grease and grinds his ass down on it. Then, nothing. No orgasm. Nothing happens except it hurts.

Then, this kid, his mom yells it's “suppertime”. She says to come down, right now.

He works the carrot out and stashes the slippery, filthy thing in the dirty clothes under his bed.

After dinner, he goes to find the carrot and it's gone. All his dirty clothes, while he ate dinner, his mom grabbed them all to do laundry. No way could she not find the carrot, carefully shaped with a paring knife from her kitchen, still shiny with lube and stinky.

This friend of mine, he waits months under a black cloud, waiting for his folks to confront him. And they never do. Ever. Even now he's grown up, that invisible carrot hangs over every Christmas dinner, every birthday party. Every Easter egg hunt with his kids, his parents' grandkids, that ghost carrot is hovering over all of them.

That something too awful to name.

People in France have a phrase: "Spirit of the Stairway." In French: Esprit de l'escalier. It means that moment when you find the answer, but it's too late. Say you're at a party and someone insults you. You have to say something. So under pressure, with everybody watching, you say something lame. But the moment you leave the party…

As you start down the stairway, then — magic. You come up with the perfect thing you should've said. The perfect crippling put-down.

That's the Spirit of the Stairway.

The trouble is even the French don't have a phrase for the stupid things you actually do say under pressure. Those stupid, desperate things you actually think or do.

Some deeds are too low to even get a name. Too low to even get talked about.

Looking back, kid-psych experts, school counselors now say that most of the last peak in teen suicide was kids trying to choke while they beat off. Their folks would find them, a towel twisted around the kid's neck, the towel tied to the rod in their bedroom closet, the kid dead. Dead sperm everywhere. Of course the folks cleaned up. They put some pants on their kid. They made it look… better. Intentional at least. The regular kind of sad, teen suicide.

Another friend of mine, a kid from school, his older brother in the Navy said how guys in the Middle East jack off different than we do here. This brother was stationed in some camel country where the public market sells what could be fancy letter openers. Each fancy tool is just a thin rod of polished brass or silver, maybe as long as your hand, with a big tip at one end, either a big metal ball or the kind of fancy carved handle you'd see on a sword. This Navy brother says how Arab guys get their dick hard and then insert this metal rod inside the whole length of their boner. They jack off with the rod inside, and it makes getting off so much better. More intense.

It's this big brother who travels around the world, sending back French phrases. Russian phrases. Helpful jack-off tips.

After this, the little brother, one day he doesn't show up at school. That night, he calls to ask if I'll pick up his homework for the next couple weeks. Because he's in the hospital.

He's got to share a room with old people getting their guts worked on. He says how they all have to share the same television. All he's got for privacy is a curtain. His folks don't come and visit. On the phone, he says how right now his folks could just kill his big brother in the Navy.

On the phone, the kid says how, the day before, he was just a little stoned. At home in his bedroom, he was flopped on the bed. He was lighting a candle and flipping through some old porno magazines, getting ready to beat off. This is after he's heard from his Navy brother. That helpful hint about how Arabs beat off. The kid looks around for something that might do the job. A ball-point pen's too big. A pencil's too big and rough. But dripped down the side of the candle, there's a thin, smooth ridge of wax that just might work. With just the tip of one finger, this kid snaps the long ridge of wax off the candle. He rolls it smooth between the palms of his hands. Long and smooth and thin.

Stoned and horny, he slips it down inside, deeper and deeper into the piss slit of his boner. With a good hank of the wax still poking out the top, he gets to work.

Even now, he says those Arab guys are pretty damn smart. They've totally re-invented jacking off. Flat on his back in bed, things are getting so good, this kid can't keep track of the wax. He's one good squeeze from shooting his wad when the wax isn't sticking out anymore.

The thin wax rod, it's slipped inside. All the way inside. So deep inside he can't even feel the lump of it inside his piss tube.

From downstairs, his mom shouts it's suppertime. She says to come down, right now. This wax kid and the carrot kid are different people, but we all live pretty much the same life.

It's after dinner when the kid's guts start to hurt. It's wax so he figured it would just melt inside him and he'd pee it out. Now his back hurts. His kidneys. He can't stand straight.

This kid talking on the phone from his hospital bed, in the background you can hear bells ding, people screaming. Game shows.

The X-rays show the truth, something long and thin, bent double inside his bladder. This long, thin V inside him, it's collecting all the minerals in his piss. It's getting bigger and more rough, coated with crystals of calcium, it's bumping around, ripping up the soft lining of his bladder, blocking his piss from getting out. His kidneys are backed up. What little that leaks out his dick is red with blood.

This kid and his folks, his whole family, them looking at the black X-ray with the doctor and the nurses standing there, the big V of wax glowing white for everybody to see, he has to tell the truth. The way Arabs get off. What his big brother wrote him from the Navy.

On the phone, right now, he starts to cry.

They paid for the bladder operation with his college fund. One stupid mistake, and now he'll never be a lawyer.

Sticking stuff inside yourself. Sticking yourself inside stuff. A candle in your dick or your head in a noose, we knew it was going to be big trouble.

What got me in trouble, I called it “Pearl Diving”. This meant whacking off underwater, sitting on the bottom at the deep end of my parents' swimming pool. With one deep breath, I'd kick my way to the bottom and slip off my swim trucks. I'd sit down there for two, three, four minutes.

Just from jacking off, I had huge lung capacity. If I had the house to myself, I'd do this all afternoon. After I'd finally pump out my stuff, my sperm, it would hang there in big, fat, milky gobs.

After that was more diving, to catch it all. To collect it and wipe each handful in a towel. That's why it was called Pearl Diving. Even with chlorine, there was my sister to worry about. Or, Christ almighty, my Mom.

That used to be my worst fear in the world: my teenage virgin sister, thinking she's just getting fat, then giving birth to a two-headed retard baby. Both heads looking just like me. Me, the father and the uncle.

In the end, it's never what you worry about that gets you.

The best part of Pearl Diving was the inlet port for the swimming pool filter and the circulation pump. The best part was getting naked and sitting on it.

As the French would say: “Who doesn't like getting their butt sucked?”

Still, one minute you're just a kid getting off, and the next minute you'll never be a lawyer.

One minute, I'm settling on the pool bottom, and the sky is wavy, light blue through eight feet of water above my head. The world is silent except for the heartbeat in my ears. My yellow-striped swim trunks are looped around my neck for safe keeping, just in case a friend, a neighbor, anybody shows up to ask why I skipped football practice. The steady suck of the pool inlet hole is lapping at me and I'm grinding my skinny white ass around on that feeling.

One minute, I've got enough air, and my dick's in my hand. My folks are gone at their work and my sister's got ballet. Nobody's supposed to be home for hours.

My hand brings me right to getting off, and I stop. I swim up to catch another big breath. I dive down and settle on the bottom.

I do this again and again.

This must be why girls want to sit on your face. The suction is like taking a dump that never ends. My dick hard and getting my butt eaten out, I do not need air. My heartbeat in my ears, I stay under until bright stars of light start worming around in my eyes. My legs straight out, the back of each knee rubbed raw against the concrete bottom. My toes are turning blue, my toes and fingers wrinkled from being so long in the water.

And then I let it happen. The big white gobs start spouting. The pearls.

It's then I need some air. But when I go to kick off against the bottom, I can't. I can't get my feet under me. My ass is stuck.

Emergency paramedics will tell you that every year about 150 people get stuck this way, sucked by a circulation pump. Get your long hair caught, or your ass, and you're going to drown. Every

year, tons of people do. Most of them in Florida.

People just don't talk about it. Not even French people talk about everything.

Getting one knee up, getting one foot tucked under me, I get to half standing when I feel the tug against my butt. Getting my other foot under me, I kick off against the bottom. I'm kicking free, not touching the concrete, but not getting to the air, either.

Still kicking water, thrashing with both arms, I'm maybe halfway to the surface but not going higher. The heartbeat inside my head getting loud and fast.

The bright sparks of light crossing and criss-crossing my eyes, I turn and look back… but it doesn't make sense. This thick rope, some kind of snake, blue-white and braided with veins has come up out of the pool drain and it's holding onto my butt. Some of the veins are leaking blood, red blood that looks black underwater and drifts away from little rips in the pale skin of the snake. The blood trails away, disappearing in the water, and inside the snake's thin, blue-white skin you can see lumps of some half-digested meal.

That's the only way this makes sense. Some horrible sea monster, a sea serpent, something that's never seen the light of day, it's been hiding in the dark bottom of the pool drain, waiting to eat me.

So… I kick at it, at the slippery, rubbery knotted skin and veins of it, and more of it seems to pull out of the pool drain. It's maybe as long as my leg now, but still holding tight around my butthole. With another kick, I'm an inch closer to getting another breath. Still feeling the snake tug at my ass, I'm an inch closer to my escape.

Knotted inside the snake, you can see corn and peanuts. You can see a long bright-orange ball. It's the kind of horse-pill vitamin my Dad makes me take, to help put on weight. To get a football scholarship. With extra iron and omega-three fatty acids.

It's seeing that vitamin pill that saves my life.

It's not a snake. It's my large intestine, my colon pulled out of me. What doctors call, prolapsed. It's my guts sucked into the drain.

Paramedics will tell you a swimming pool pump pulls 80 gallons of water every minute. That's about 400 pounds of pressure. The big problem is we're all connected together inside. Your ass is just the far end of your mouth. If I let go, the pump keeps working - unraveling my insides, until it's got my tongue. Imagine taking a 400-pound shit, and you can see how this might turn you inside out.

What I can tell you is your guts don't feel much pain. Not the way your skin feels pain. The stuff you're digesting, doctor's call it fecal matter. Higher up is chyme, pockets of a thin runny mess studded with corn and peanuts and round green peas.

That's all this soup of blood and corn, shit and sperm and peanuts floating around me. Even with my guts unraveling out my ass, me holding onto what's left, even then my first want is to somehow get my swimsuit back on.

God forbid my folks see my dick.

My one hand holding a fist around my ass, my other hand snags my yellow-striped swim trunks and pulls them from around my neck. Still, getting into them is impossible.

You want to feel your intestines, go buy a pack of those lamb-skin condoms. Take one out and unroll it. Pack it with peanut butter. Smear it with petroleum jelly and hold it under water. Then, try to tear it. Try to pull it in half. It's too tough and rubbery. It's so slimy you can't hold on.

A lamb-skin condom, that's just plain old intestine.

You can see what I'm up against.

You let go for a second, and you're gutted.

You swim for the surface, for a breath, and you're gutted.

You don't swim, and you drown.

It's a choice between being dead right now or a minute from right now.

What my folks will find after work is a big naked fetus, curled in on itself. Floating in the cloudy water of their backyard pool. Tethered to the bottom by a thick rope of veins and twisted guts. The opposite of a kid hanging himself to death while he jacks off. This is the baby they brought home from the hospital thirteen years ago. Here's the kid they hoped would snag a football scholarship and get an MBA. Who'd care for them in their old age. Here's all their hopes and dreams. Floating here, naked and dead. All around him, big milky pearls of wasted sperm.

Either that or my folks will find me wrapped in a bloody towel, collapsed halfway from the pool to the kitchen telephone, the ragged, torn scrap of my guts still hanging out the leg of my yellow-striped swim trunks.

What even the French won't talk about.

That big brother in the Navy, he taught us one other good phrase. A Russian phrase. The way we say: "I need that like I need a hole in my head…" Russian people say: "I need that like I need teeth in my asshole…"

Mne eto nado kak zuby v zadnitse

Those stories about how animals caught in a trap will chew off their leg, well, any coyote would tell you a couple bites beats the hell out of being dead.

Hell… even if you're Russian, some day you just might want those teeth.

Otherwise, what you have to do is, you have to twist around. You hook one elbow behind your knee and pull that leg up into your face. You bite and snap at your own ass. You run out of air, and you will chew through anything to get that next breath.

It's not something you want to tell a girl on the first date. Not if you expect a kiss good night.

If I told you how it tasted, you would never, ever again eat calamari.

It's hard to say what my parents were more disgusted by: how I'd got in trouble or how I'd saved myself. After the hospital, my Mom said, "You didn't know what you were doing, honey. You were in shock." And she learned how to cook poached eggs.

All those people grossed out or feeling sorry for me…

I need that like I need teeth in my asshole.

Nowadays, people always tell me I look too skinny. People at dinner parties get all quiet and pissed off when I don't eat the pot roast they cooked. Pot roast kills me. Baked ham. Anything that hangs around inside my guts for longer than a couple hours, it comes out still food. Home-cooked lima beans or chunk light tuna fish, I'll stand up and find it still sitting there in the toilet.

After you have a radical bowel resectioning, you don't digest meat so great. Most people, you have five feet of large intestine. I'm lucky to have my six inches. So I never got a football scholarship. Never got an MBA. Both my friends, the wax kid and the carrot kid, they grew up, got big, but I've never weighed a pound more than I did that day when I was thirteen.

Another big problem was my folks paid a lot of good money for that swimming pool. In the end my Dad just told the pool guy it was a dog. The family dog fell in and drowned. The dead body got pulled into the pump. Even when the pool guy cracked open the filter casing and fished out a rubbery tube, a watery hank of intestine with a big orange vitamin pill still inside, even then, my Dad just said, "That dog was fucking nuts."

Even from my upstairs bedroom window, you could hear my Dad say, "We couldn't trust that dog alone for a second…"

Then my sister missed her period.

Even after they changed the pool water, after they sold the house and we moved to another state, after my sister's abortion, even then my folks never mentioned it again.

Ever.

That is our invisible carrot.

You. Now you can take a good, deep breath.

I still have not.

#i'm currently reading haunted and i'll be damned if guts ain't the greatest piece of fiction ever written #millennia of literary history has led up to the pinnacle that is this. humanity's single greatest artistic achievement. #chuck palahniuk #guts #chuck palahniuk guts #guts chuck palahniuk #shitpost #long post #horror #body horror

[kingocringeracc]

Racc here, I'm gonna drop this one at yalls (literally no one) feet like a bastard child. See ya.

It's my least favorite because I feel it's a stupid idea, it was cool at first but when I put pen to paper it didn't make sense.

Synopsis, the authors least favorite son

August 29th, 2046

Jerusalem, Israel

Walking through the streets of one of the holiest cities in the world is quite an experience, I enter a coffee shop to meet the man I am to interview today, his name is Amir Essa, and he has gray streaks in his long dark hair, is bronze skin is wrinkled with crows feet and laugh lines. He shakes my hand and smiles at me, the smile reaches his eyes. The war didn't take that away from him like it did so many others.

“So you were a part of the Saharian horde eradications?”

“Ahh yes, the SHE unit”

He speaks of the SHE with a fond reminiscence.

“Could you elaborate just what the SHE unit was?”

“One of the greatest cavalry forces since the hussars, we were created after the final pushbacks at the walls of Jerusalem, and made as an extermination unit for the Saharian mass horde, comparable to a European horde or the horde you Americans had on your east coast”

“After the pushbacks of Jerusalem, the Israeli government came up with an idea, to use all the camels that had come in when the shut off of the Israeli state began, and instead of continuing to use them for meat, why not weaponize them? They were the perfect desert animal for the intention we had, and being that Israel’s factories stayed open, we had a massive stockpile of rifle ammunition, which, after your battle of DC, we found was the most effective for killing the dead, instead of your orchestras of artilery and machine guns.”

“i signed on with the SHE as soon as i found out the government had made it, of course you had to go through our version of your bootcamps, and learn how to ride a camel, while also learning how to shoot the rifles they gave us.”

“on this day, 16 years ago, we began our liberation of the african desert, descending through cairo and around the mediterranean coast slowly drawing off numbers from the SMH (saharian mass horde) and after 2 months of doing this, the brass decided to give us the order to start skirmishing with the mass horde”

“the SHE had about 20,000 active cavalrymen, but was split in 2, the army i served with, the silver horsemen, started our skirmishes from the atlas mountains, while our sister army, the red horsemen, started from the nile river. And when the order came out, both armies would attempt to meet in the middle of the desert, and hopefully, on the corpse of the mass horde.”

“i was one of the first ones who began the circling of the horde, god it was like we where the mongol hordes of old, horde against horde. This was the deciding factor of who would come out on top of this war, this was the turning point.”

“when the shots first started to go off, we got extremely confident, we had the ammo, and the speed, to outpace every single one of those things, im talking the entire 40 million of those things in that mass of decay. But some of the younger soldiers, got too confident, got too close to the sun, a stray bullet hit his camels leg, and he went tumbling about 10 yards away from the horde, he got up from his camel, managed to put it down before the horde got to it, and booked it towards us, i had to do something, it was my moral duty, especially when one is faced with a death that gruesome. I broke formation, and urged my camel to run faster towards the horde.”

“this normally wouldnt have worked, animals had this primal instinct to get away from these things, but our camels, and later your k-9s where trained to ignore these instincts, or at least be brave enough to face the fear of the dead. I charged towards the lone soldier, he saw me and started running towards me and my camel, he was running out of stamina, and the horde was gaining on him, but, at the last second, i was able to get him on my camel, and we returned to the circle.”

“i chastised the boy, but i learned that he was one of the few americans in israel when the state quarantined, his name was Cain Rogers. He was fearstricken. Who wouldnt have been though, faced with death that close, and at that young as well.”

“now that i had this boy with me on my camel, i had half the ammo i had before i rescued Cain, since he left his ammo with his camel, whose corpse wasnt there when we got back into the cirlce formation. But me and Cain made it work, we had a system locked down, and before the day ended, we had made a significant dent in the number of the horde. We all went back to base, trading out our positions with the other half of the silver horsemen so we could let ourselves and camels rest, the other half of the silver horsemen would keep the SMH occupied so they didnt hunt us down while we slept.

“Cain thanked me a thousand times when we arrived at the mountain base to rest. He didnt need too, but he did it anyway. The day silver horsemen feasted and drank and sang because of the dent we made in the SMH that day, but we rested, and when we woke up we traded out with the night portion of the silver horsemen, and continued our skirmish.”

“this process of switching night and day would continue for maybe a week, but after days of this process, we finally saw the light, red as the dawn. Our men where tired, and im sure some of our camels had tripped on corpses along the way, but when we saw our sister army. I think thats the most reguvinating moment ive had in my life. That final skirmish was the hardest we had fought the entire week, and the moment i embraced a man from the red horseman, was the moment humanity had a chance.”

#zombies #world war z #this is my least favorite child. #max brooks

[julianscorpio]

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