hard_talker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hard_talker) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisa2013-06-24 10:00 pm
hard_talker) wrote in paradisa2013-06-24 10:00 pm
Entry tags:
106.9 - that's how it goes
It's 10 o'clock ... it's Monday ... we're all home, setting into our old routines, our old boring, stupid, Castle Wonderfuck lives ... but just remember, it's still a jungle out there. This is your old pal Hard Harry ... here we go.
[and this week, when the lyrics kick in, Mark actually starts singing along. once the first verse is over, he turns the stereo off and barely takes a breath before he's already starting in:]
Everybody knows, EVERYbody knows. You guys have been hearin' that song for weeks now, months, maybe even years if you've been around as long as yours truly. Maybe you know every single word by heart at this point, maybe you never even paid attention, but that song's always had a soft spot. I had a whole thing planned this mornin', thought it up starin' into my Frosted Flakes, wonderin' what I was gonna yell at you all about this time ... and then just now, I thought, you know what? Maybe we'll talk about Mr. Leonard Cohen for a minute.
He's the guy who wrote that, ya know. I'm not gonna bore you with any history lessons or tell you about how he's actually sort of a monk despite bein' a badass musician and a helluva poet, as cool as it is. It's just - that's always been my song. I've started my broadcasts off with it since day one ... I remember the first time I heard it, some old record my Mom buried in the back of a box when we moved to Arizona. Pulled it out and started listening to it outta - boredom? Curiosity? Destiny? Who the hell knows, but I fell in love with it right off the bat. Because it spoke to me. It said somethin' true, you know? It's true. Everybody does know. Everybody knows it's all piled up against us, we're all up shit creek without a paddle, and we're drownin' in it, WE'RE GOIN' DOWN! [he flails in his chair, spinning around, laughing for a moment] - Which is really a pretty sick image for those of you with overactive imaginations, now that I think about it. I'd apologize, but - PSHT. Since when the fuck have I ever? ... Anyway. The whole point Mr. Cohen was trying to make, far as Me Two Years Ago had it figured, was that yeah, everyone knew, but no one was doin' anything about... and it made him sick. And it made ME sick, too, made me wanna get up and shake the world like a rag doll or a fucked-up kid, till it actually either did somethin', said somethin', or, like the kid, puked on my shoes.
And it worked! God fuckin' help me, it actually kinda worked, and then I got dumped here just as the last of the fit was hittin' the shan. Just when I figured I was done, and shot, and fucked ... I got a whole new mess, a whole new flock of sheep to yell at: you guys. But I been here two years, and two years is a long time. It's a lotta time to sit here and realize that every person that wakes up under this stupid roof or between these stupid walls or crawls their ass outta the duck pond soakin' wet or wanders in from the woods gets told the same damn things by the same damn people.
Toboe, you've probably already heard most of it, as this week's lone honored new kid. You've probably heard at least one or two or five or ten people tell YOU what everybody knows. The castle's a dick, the kitchen's on the first floor, and sooner or later, whether we like it or not, everybody gets used to it.
Only - that's just it, isn't it? Everybody knows that shit! It's stale, it's old, we've heard it a billion times! So tonight? Tonight, Hard Harry here wants you to crack open your brains and tell us what you don't know. It can be the stuff that keeps you up at night, twistin' in your sheets, screamin' "why, why, WHY" at the ceiling, or the stuff that comes to you right smack in the middle of the same borin' shit you do every day and makes you go "what the fuck is up with THAT?"... just ... tell me: what doesn't everybody know?
Let's shake it up, toss a couple rolls of Mentos in, and see what blows.
Have a little thinkin' music, folks.
[and this week, when the lyrics kick in, Mark actually starts singing along. once the first verse is over, he turns the stereo off and barely takes a breath before he's already starting in:]
Everybody knows, EVERYbody knows. You guys have been hearin' that song for weeks now, months, maybe even years if you've been around as long as yours truly. Maybe you know every single word by heart at this point, maybe you never even paid attention, but that song's always had a soft spot. I had a whole thing planned this mornin', thought it up starin' into my Frosted Flakes, wonderin' what I was gonna yell at you all about this time ... and then just now, I thought, you know what? Maybe we'll talk about Mr. Leonard Cohen for a minute.
He's the guy who wrote that, ya know. I'm not gonna bore you with any history lessons or tell you about how he's actually sort of a monk despite bein' a badass musician and a helluva poet, as cool as it is. It's just - that's always been my song. I've started my broadcasts off with it since day one ... I remember the first time I heard it, some old record my Mom buried in the back of a box when we moved to Arizona. Pulled it out and started listening to it outta - boredom? Curiosity? Destiny? Who the hell knows, but I fell in love with it right off the bat. Because it spoke to me. It said somethin' true, you know? It's true. Everybody does know. Everybody knows it's all piled up against us, we're all up shit creek without a paddle, and we're drownin' in it, WE'RE GOIN' DOWN! [he flails in his chair, spinning around, laughing for a moment] - Which is really a pretty sick image for those of you with overactive imaginations, now that I think about it. I'd apologize, but - PSHT. Since when the fuck have I ever? ... Anyway. The whole point Mr. Cohen was trying to make, far as Me Two Years Ago had it figured, was that yeah, everyone knew, but no one was doin' anything about... and it made him sick. And it made ME sick, too, made me wanna get up and shake the world like a rag doll or a fucked-up kid, till it actually either did somethin', said somethin', or, like the kid, puked on my shoes.
And it worked! God fuckin' help me, it actually kinda worked, and then I got dumped here just as the last of the fit was hittin' the shan. Just when I figured I was done, and shot, and fucked ... I got a whole new mess, a whole new flock of sheep to yell at: you guys. But I been here two years, and two years is a long time. It's a lotta time to sit here and realize that every person that wakes up under this stupid roof or between these stupid walls or crawls their ass outta the duck pond soakin' wet or wanders in from the woods gets told the same damn things by the same damn people.
Toboe, you've probably already heard most of it, as this week's lone honored new kid. You've probably heard at least one or two or five or ten people tell YOU what everybody knows. The castle's a dick, the kitchen's on the first floor, and sooner or later, whether we like it or not, everybody gets used to it.
Only - that's just it, isn't it? Everybody knows that shit! It's stale, it's old, we've heard it a billion times! So tonight? Tonight, Hard Harry here wants you to crack open your brains and tell us what you don't know. It can be the stuff that keeps you up at night, twistin' in your sheets, screamin' "why, why, WHY" at the ceiling, or the stuff that comes to you right smack in the middle of the same borin' shit you do every day and makes you go "what the fuck is up with THAT?"... just ... tell me: what doesn't everybody know?
Let's shake it up, toss a couple rolls of Mentos in, and see what blows.
Have a little thinkin' music, folks.
no subject
[She cackles and makes a few wishes. Sadly, she doesn't know how much of anything to wish for and wishes for chicken nuggets because fuck that'd sounded good, and fries. From McDonalds. And the Castle's feeling either particularly sadistic or particularly generous because six twenty-piece orders of chicken nuggets in boxes come thumping onto her desk, along with five Super-size orders of fries. She thinks for a minute and decides she wants a dick with feet too. So her next words are accompanied by laughter and the sounds of some small wind-up thing hopping across her desk.]
Nope. I'm not gunning for your job. You do a better one than I could do.
[She cracks open a box of chicken nuggets and eats one.]
Hey. This isn't bad.
[And a few minutes later, there'll be a knock on your door. When/if you open it, there is a ghost outside with two boxes of steaming hot chicken nuggets and two large fries. Hey. What else are you gonna do when the Castle dumps a whole chicken worth of nuggets on your desk other than share with friends?]
[OOC: I want a wind-up penis myself. Off to see if they actually make them and have them on eBay. May be scarred for life afterword.]
last I checked people buy them in bulk for bachelorette party favors
Re: last I checked people buy them in bulk for bachelorette party favors
[She laughs.]
Be careful, man. Or you'll wind up with what I did. Six boxes of these chicken cookie nugget things, and five giant boxes of fries.
[The sounds of her little wind-up penis can still be heard...as it hops its little wind-up way closer to the journal and Chell reaches out to catch it.]
Get back here!
no subject
no subject
[That's all right. So is she.]
I lost my penis.
[Remember the Castle's notorious sense of humor IE attempts to torture its residents? Well, Chell's little penis has, when she set it down again, hopped across her journal page, across the desk, onto the floor and is hopping around the room.]
...And I'm still trying to catch it!
[OOC: Smirk]