Del Fuego's journal

> Spook Show
> Timebomb
> Misfits
> My Nightmare
> Veins
> Vintage 7
> Noveau 7

Sunday, February 19th, 2006
6:59 pm - The Hive

Fem worship at the feet of your Queen - Miss Conduct

(6 Sparks | Light My Fire)

Sunday, December 25th, 2005
10:12 pm - Kerouac - whispers from the road - pt.4
I've never been much for the christ rituals, bah humbug has always been more my cup of tea. But I never had the chance to watch nieces jump like gleeful jelly beans after tearing open boxes covered in silly wrappings. My curmudgeon heart melted away, what a lovely mess I made of my shirt. It's been a rough year, weeks of sleepless meanderings, violence on my mind and on my fists, deaths in the family and one close call, losing a home, some friends and a way of life, watching the only dame I love crumple under the stress of it all. A long string of black rust pearls around my throat, choking the living fuck out of me. I was beginning to think I was a goner. Till I saw those chocolate brown eyes full of joy. There's truly nothing so pure as the smiles of babes.

To the few who have bled unflinching support for me through out this mess, I thank you deeply. You are very important and dear. I'll give you whatever is left of my heart after I get my shirt back from the cleaners. Here's to a New Year full of more of the insane. Wicked cool here we come.

(3 Sparks | Light My Fire)

Sunday, May 15th, 2005
1:35 am - Kerouac - whispers from the road - pt.3
Like fallen juggernaut skeletons rotting on the battlefield of Devils versus Gods, I see them. Man made machines who've lost their might and mechanized glory. Vintage tractors left in a purgatory field of cracked dirt and withered loneliness. What guarantee do I have that I won't end up in the same hell? Hart-Parr, Massey Ferguson, Oliver.. will my name join their tomb ranks? Sleepy laughter from 1100 miles away makes me hope for something with a little more panache and a whole lot more latex sweat. Piglet is having an explosion of the creative mind meeting new artistic fire. That makes me proud, I scream my delight at the cold darkness that surrounds me. Not a soul hears me. I march outside to the old red barns with a lighter in one fist and a sense of pride in the other. Gonna tango with the devil by the pale moonlight. Care to join us?

"Cause there's nothin strange about an axe with bloodstains in the barn. There's always some killin' you got to do around the farm."

(Light My Fire)

Sunday, May 1st, 2005
2:59 am - Kerouac - whispers from the road - pt.2
Where's my money fuckboy? Sounds like a Vietnamese marriage proposal and fuckboy doesn't look like the marrying type. Funny how the simplest of things can lead you to the most complex and oftentimes, painful of places. I stand by watching half-heartedly, hands in my coat pockets, I can never seem to get warm enough. Brutus wants what's his, probably not gonna get it, at least not tonight. The good thing about this song and dance number is it doesn't play often. Brutus with his caveman mittens goes to work. I walk away to marvel at the neon lights dancing in the dark distance. It never ceases to amaze me the genius vision those money boys had way back in 1941. Even though I'm sure that didn't include roller coasters, a glass pyramid or an Eiffel Tower. Still, Sin never looked so dazzling. Magdalena Sheriff comes up to me and asks for the hundredth time if I'll be part of the wedding. It's cute watching a grown man beg for something so silly, sentimental bugger. Sometimes jello flows through my veins too, so I give him a wise-ass look and he beams like a schoolgirl. Stick boy is getting a new tuxedo. Brutus is finally done, so we get in the car and head out.

It's dawn and the bright sun is slowly creeping its way up through the gated hill. I'm sitting on the roof of this big ass mansion wrapped in a Wayne Newton silk blanket (only in Vegas). I'd feel alone if it wasn't for my insomnia, she always keeps me company. The things that come out her mouth, hot damn! even the devil would blush. I crawl back to the side deck that leads to my room and get ready for this holy day. As Nelson from The Simpsons would say: Ha-Ha!

She looks like heaven if it wore a veil, a bustier and had a sexy tush. I wonder how long the glow will last. Her soon-to-be man looks like he stepped in front of the ugly truck a few too many times. What is it about marrying ugly dudes? I don't get it. I know Johnny Depp is already taken but come on! There's still a few pretty boys out there without a head full of rocks. Love must truly be blind and this fucker knows it. There's a vibe of nastiness about him and not the good freaky kind either. But I'm not really worried, Papa-in-law IS the law and the crooked kind too. So when Dumbo fucks up, and he will too, his luck will go sour real fast. Trust me when I say, the desert can be a very lonely place.

Now I get to watch jolly people eat cake & ice cream, you bastards. My right nut for a cast iron belly.

(1 Spark | Light My Fire)

Friday, April 15th, 2005
3:53 pm - Kerouac - whispers from the road - pt.1
I sit in a corner booth at The Matador Lounge, stale stink of cigarettes, cheap booze and shriveled spirits fills my lungs. A slimy burger with fries covered in green chili tries to do the same for my gut. Something sticky and yellow keeps trying to cling to the seat of my trousers. In the booth to the right of me, this broad talks about her seventh abortion and her swiss cheese uterus. She decided to rip the little shit out after she caught her man in bed with her mother. Abortion broad looks like she's pushing 50. I guess when you're on crank and feel like superman, any piece of ass is doable. Brings back memories of far gone punk rock days when the world was mine and I ate Kryptonite like marshmallows. Driving down the coast to some fleabag dive for another night of teenage angst and self-righteous rage. Dames with 'get me the fuck out of dodge' twinkles in their eyes. Hoping another tight squeeze would guarantee them a seat on our beaten-up caravan of freedom. Knowing full well it was all a lie, just a cheap thrill with no fairy tale ending. I finger the scar on my wrist and smile. A small hello brings me back.

This cute little darling with blond hair and stained cheeks stands in front of me. Will I buy a chocolate from her? A dollar to make her light up like an X-mas tree. Sure thing. Doesn't strike me odd that this candy bar hustle is playing out in a shithole bar where drunks keep falling of their stools singing along to Tim McGraw on the jukebox. She goes over to the abortion broad. What the fuck is this for, she scolds. My school, little darling squeaks. I doubt it. That's when a putrid smell hits me, it's coming from the chocolate. I laugh. This old man in a cowboy hat frowns at me. He'd fit right in a Mike Myers flick, Fat Bastards ugly twin brother. I pay my check and head out.

The noon sun is way to bright and happy for my liking. I put my shades on and get in my truck. Another blond darling comes to my window and shoots me with her plastic ray gun. She laughs hysterically and runs away to a parked station wagon. A family of candy bar grifters catching some z's while the cutie inside does her thing.

I'm off to Magdalena and a diner with the best homemade cherry crumb pie this side of the Rio Grande. The dame who runs it is married to the town Sheriff, a tough son-of-bitch whose hide was saved on more than one occasion by my old man. He'll be happy to see my skinny mug. Their daughter, a former pageant winner and also former sweetheart of mine, is getting hitched in a few days. Another one with fairy tale dreams. Still, I'm happy for her. She was always nice to me, so fuck it I root for her. Looks like I might end up in Sin City after all.

As for you, my dear City of Angels, your blackheart caress feels so distant now.

(9 Sparks | Light My Fire)

Monday, December 13th, 2004
11:30 pm - Falsa
You with hair that smelled like a hawaiian ocean. That red smile with its crooked joy, dancing on graves to train wreck symphonies. Naked nights in the black, always slinking back to the flames. Blood stain art on bed sheets from when I smashed into you. You'd laugh at the bruises across your tits, saying they looked liked jelly spots. The morning light as it drowned inside your eyes, proof of hellfire magic.

Who would have thought that forever was too short a time.

(Light My Fire)

Friday, March 5th, 2004
6:54 pm - Love & Death In Wichita
I sit on this hard leather seat, staring out a cold window, watching a strange sedentary world pass by. Dark empty houses... lifeless, yet more alive than I. This vice of loneliness choking my heart. Wondering just how I ended up this way, where both my best friend and my worst enemy live inside me. I fall back on memories of you to make it less painful. Your luminous face brings a smile to my less than perfect one. Melancholy moments like these often make me wonder what it'd be like to be a dame, to be able to hold you and feel the heat of your skin. A romantic depressive in love with all beauty, ignorant of lines and boundaries placed by DNA or reality. Only caring for warm thoughts, not cold ones like a lost childhood that experienced only the surreal, a time marked by brutality and dark love. I blink back to the now as a man in a dark blue uniform kindly asks to see my ticket.

(5 Sparks | Light My Fire)

> Ride Me Again