June 17, 2004

I find you guilty of being unforgivably up in my shit.

There's room in the wheelchair space of a BART train, if it isn't being occupied by a wheelchair, for one antisocial girl to stand and block out the presence of the other passengers by listening to Murder By Death on her big, dorky cone-of-silence headphones. Unfortunately, all it takes to shatter the dream of solitude is one person with strong cologne deciding that there's enough room for two people and standing right up next to the aforementioned antisocial girl. Rarr.

The following will only amuse Jacob and Katie. Or maybe only Katie.

Track 1: The Devil In BART
Track 2: Killbot 2000 (unchanged)
Track 3: Until Mood Improves, The Scowlings Will Continue
Track 4: Three Men Hanging Around In My Way
Track 5: 16th and Intermission
Track 6: A Masters in Sideways Glareology
Track 7: The Foot Is On Toe
Track 8: That Cologne Don't Make You Smell Good
Track 9: Fillers Of Space
Track 10: %#%^#*^#(%*!!!*$&!^#*!!!!!

I may have intended to discuss something here, but I've now forgotten it.

Posted by dianna at June 17, 2004 10:50 AM

even though i'm assuming that the track titles are probably in reference to murder by death titles, i still found them funny on a stand-alone basis and i am neither jacob or katie. =) nod.

Posted by: michele at June 17, 2004 10:56 AM

Ah. Thank you, neither Jacob nor Katie.

If you wanted to compare them to the originals, you could do so here. They might get marginally more amusing thereby.

Posted by: Dianna at June 17, 2004 11:00 AM

hee hee. i did that already. they were pretty amusing.

Posted by: michele at June 17, 2004 11:10 AM

hahahaha! these are great! i particularly love "masters in sideways glareology." you definitely have one of those.


a smell like bad cologne creeps softly through the seats/
the train is filling up with stinky sweaty bodies/
tell all the boys and girls on the train/
i don't think it's gonna rain/
to let them know they can stop poking you with their umbrellas

dorito crumbs fall from their lips/
their briefcases bruising your hips/
your eyes are turning flinty grey/
your seat feels soft and sagging down/
you try not to look around/
just eavesdrop on what they say

and they pile/
in the fullest car and they pile/
in the fullest car and they pile/
in the fullest car/
piss away rush hour among the sound of bodies lurching round the train

i can smell the flesh on everything left in this car/
gum and scattered trash on every seat/
four weeks finding clumps of sf weekly caught between the doors, oh oh oh oh oh

carry their little bodies to the transfer station/
so gently/
oh carry their little bodies to the transfer station/
so gently

carry their little bodies to the transfer station ever so gently/
but please don't let them sit down next to me

Posted by: katie at June 19, 2004 04:51 PM

katie, a great big nod for you.

Posted by: didofoot at June 21, 2004 08:18 AM

Agreed. In the words of the Pixies, "Gigantic, gigantic, a big big nod."

Rush hour was never so grisly before, although it was so overcrowded and unpleasant.

Posted by: Dianna at June 21, 2004 09:23 AM

muchas gracias.

and i thought i had such fond memories of bart, too. i'm always waxing nostalgic for the days when i lived in an area with viable public transportation. now i find out i've been wearing bart-goggles this whole time.

do you always get the weird seat with the stain on it and you're kind of trying not to notice if it smells like pee?

Posted by: katie at June 22, 2004 12:19 AM