king-of-clowns asked: Hey if you have any beats laying around you wouldnt mind me trying to write too id be more than happy too :)
Will do. The majority of my beats aren’t anything special though. You’d be best to enlist the help of a producer who actually knows what he/she is doing haha.
Anonymous asked: tumblrmarketing(.)com is showing how silly tumblr is. they'd do worse than facebook in the stock market. just giving free shit away
Cheers for that.
An old man dancing in a pink shirt and diaper proclaiming that he is also a “fag” and a crossdresser
…
Don’t ask.
Nicky DeFrancis/Nick De Frances
Those who have been following me for a while and who have read my posts will know that I have an obsession with jazz singer Beverly Kenney, and that I previously mentioned the fact that she had a close friend by the name of Nick De Frances. His name is erroneously spelled in the newspaper; it’s supposed to be De Frances, with an ‘e’ and a space in between. The picture on the left is not of him. I have never seen a picture of him.
Now, I don’t believe in fate. I don’t believe that this is a sign of something from a divine power or anything of that kind. If you want something marvellous, then go and create it. Yet, I have to admit that I am fascinated by the fact that this man committed suicide on my birthday (or at least his death was announced on my birthday), made even more remarkable by the fact that I’m born on a leap year.
I’ve since taken the name of Nicky DeFrancis as a kind of alter ego. The mawkish side of me that manifests itself often whenever I write. February 29th is apparently a date when a man is supposed to propose to a woman; I wonder if he purposefully selected the date.
De Frances’ death precipitated that of Beverly Kenney’s only a few months later. Fascinatingly tragic. I can’t help but be amazed.
1that if I ever die abruptly, I bloody well hope no one ever says it was part of “God’s plan”
“And it was the touch of the imperfect upon the would-be perfect that gave the sweetness, because it was that which gave the humanity.”
Lagwagon - Owen Meaney
“Your faith is just a silent tribute. Mine is just a desperate act. Give him back”
I love this song. Any song based on the book A Prayer For Owen Meany by John Irving is going to be good. Not sure why it’s spelled with an extra ‘e’ though. Again not a style of music I’d listen to a lot (pop punk, punk rock) but this is just great. Any punk song that I like always gives me a great feeling (even if I am at odds with the lyrics of some bands being reblogged constantly, as seen by a recent post haha)
The protagonist of the book ultimately ends up remaining a Christian based on the miracle life of his friend Owen, and only that. I think this is what the song is speaking of. All throughout the book, the actual narrator is always overshadowed in some way by Owen Meany, and even in death, he is still overshadowed by him.
A Prayer For Owen Meany is definitely my favourite book I’ve read. I can’t describe the feeling I would get when reading it.
Lana Del Rey - Diet Mountain Dew
I love the production on this song, very hip-hop. Reminds me a bit of some Sabzi beats. The album as a whole has been called over-produced but I disagree.
Sorry I’ve been in a real LDR mood recently. I seem to go through these different phases of this blog where I hop between different artists that I like lol.
1 Fabricated, again, and a bit “jumbly” (i.e. needs work still). I actually wrote it with Video Games in my mind for some reason. If you get the reference in the title then you’re pretty cool.
Blood flow copes with the foreign overflow. Heart rates this a 10. This attempt will do me in. A legend never born. Scorned all that could have thrived. I may disappear but I’ll never die. Never die. Falling into lethargy. Molecules of energy like born again Christians who sacrifice ability. Efforts for nobility they fell into the Hell of me. Knights with rusted armour screamed in bondage. It’s me. Walking down a busy street, the faces that I’ll never meet. Only for teen armies to repeat: “this is me”. It’s great I write your story but my book’s still covered with the dust that settles daily. Stale inside the cell.
Wasting with the pills here. Beers kiss. Stay near. Emptied like a 12 hour interrogation ‘cause I’m talking to my demons in a game of good and bad cop ‘till the tainted window pops and they stop. Patience comes and goes with height. I aberrate from my life to find a soporific stronger than my mind. Like a hero in to zero in on what caused the chagrin. Finding answers to your questions but not mine. Not mine.
Follow trails on my arms ‘till you reach the end of time. It’s a pre-mortem ritual so sanguine. Patience comes and goes. Debased in droves my hopes. I pose no threat to those who try to intervene until I kick and scream and shut the door. Frames become bigger and the smell is ever stronger. The trains of thought are tracked to my arms. Shooting stars. All appetite is lost in this greatest of hungers. Withdrawn from withdrawal. I fall apart.
Stitched the heart on my sleeve with an immoral fabric. Proclaimed to the world I had a habit. I once erred on caution’s side ‘till caprice got me in vice. Emaciated. Denigrated. All is opaque. But it’s no great shake. I’ll just shake in sin. Considered every option. The ramiform path becomes one and I’m done.
Start to become one with the carpet and survey the vomit; it’s concept art, depends how you take it. The fridge has been stripped. Cold shouldered and pipped to the post of your fence. White and privileged. A ledge appears like magic and I’m pulled towards it. Like I’ve been aborted but there’s no pain. I go to the edge. And I go insane. And I’m going down ‘till I hit memory lane.
1 
