i refuse to write about sex.
i cannot write about drugs.
i know jack about rock.
– 7:54:28 PM
i love the contradictions of the human experience. i love the differences and insanities and illogical parts of us that make no sense except to oneself.
i love how people can write in great detail about every aspect of their paranoias and psychoses and illnesses and fears but cannot write about “drugs” and refuse to write about “sex”.
and i type this without a tap of sarcasm.
you don’t get that sort of complexity in lord of the rings i don’t care how many times you rent it.
lick magazine, dear child, isn’t solely about the brass rings of lcd
how many times you’ve spread your legs
or popped pills
or how you did it
or with whom
or how it made you feel
or how it made you not feel
its not about threeway kissing on x in the parkinglot of a dead show in oakland where afterwards you exhaled and could see your breath but you were warm and toasty inbetween those hippy girls.
its not about the time you dropped acid then sucked nitrous and watched the sun set and then melt into the ocean while listening to brass monkey on a homeless mans boom box and feeling your soul float up and up and away from you
its not about being fifteen in the fourteenth row at the back in black tour, going alone because nobody else’s mom trusted them the way yours trusted you.
lick magazine is about writing about the things that you wouldn’t normally write on your own blog.
its about writing little things about things you refuse to write about
its about writing long things about things you cannot write about
its about writing things that you do know jack about since you’re the one who saw jack and meg in fucking pomona.
you’re the one with the kurdt print when everyone else is lucky to have the poster.
rock is the part of us who embraces the darkness and says yeah man ive missed that.
drugs is what we take to silence the devil in us that says we don’t know jack
and sex is the deliciously low carb reward
you don’t have to write for lick right now or ever. you don’t have to tell me it’s you when you email me from an anonymous email addy.
but you do have to remember that people read you and love you and are inspired by you regardless of your ridiculousness cuz most of us can see through the blahblahblah and into the rock.
don’t listen to that bullshit artist whispering in your ear that you don’t know jack
write the good stuff
and when you’re scared, send it to lick