the return

#sickballoons #homefi #bedroomcore #party

balloons! soda bar! august!

not sure who, if anyone reads this blog, but my band (sick balloons), is coming out of our slumber hiatus to play our first show officially in over a year. August 11th, at the Soda Bar, opening up for Matt Kivel and Steve Gunn (ex Kurt Vile & the Violators). should be fun! come out and rock San Diego!

Vote for Pete Fij & Terry Bickers!!!

Two guys, Pete Fijalkowski and Terry Bickers, from some of my favorite bands (Adorable & House of Love), made a record together. One of its songs is making the rounds on BBC Radio. They now have a chance to be played on all the shows next week, and all they need is your vote! It takes less than 30 seconds to click on the link and vote. VOTE NOW!

our new record is out...on cassette.

whilst the CD's are not quite ready, we have released our new record, doubled with our old record, on one compact cassette, 'prague over helvetica.' $5, no digital on his particular release.

prague over helvetica

NORTH CITRUS HELVETICA. (sick balloons).

unfinished dues and diligence

here lies the modern crawl of destitute 

bound by feet and gracious screw

spoke for miles and pitch the terms so calmly

like its age-ed albatross

you're a broken fall for fail of people first

toby writes with his left hand

dull dull dull

we could read minds with faceless teeth and foreign soil

stuck up in the avenues of borrowed brisk

lie awake cause we feel so stark and full of traits

practice 

staring down the pastor

for a quarter and a palm

seeking young advice for understated enterprise

all- 

tuned up for appraisal in a painted 

diplomacy

(stillborn)

eulogy

she was poised for the big blue screen

notebook gestation pen period

it seams 

she bound drink tickets

to heavy suitcases

ready to blow this sam hell city

hair prim and pinned up

post-pool swim

showered in jean and tee draped delicacy

free keds from her latest acquaintance

her face soft as sunrise

befitting she lay eyes on her day ahead

fingers like swans

gracefully feathered chords strung

down from the gaping emblems

of a life well worn

always wandering

lost and found herself daily

she held her fares in hand

set alarms

checked out of rooms 

doors 

homes 

relationships

for a life full of musty vans

admiring auteurs

cheap food

and free beer

and all we were left with,

scattered left behinds and unfinished works

tiny peepholes

closeted shrines

muppets and popcorn

crackling echoes

resembling memoirs

and a trunkful of shoes.

the only eames i'd aspired to.

kurt would have laughed vicariously 

four times for sure, for suzie

and the last words written

in hazy chalk spirited fling.

"i am, only what you forget to erase."

remember me.

xxx.