@phocks

poker pals ;)

phocks@gmail.com (Joshua Byrd) — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 02:20:40 -0800

dan and rohan at the hynes st poker tournament

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Voice Message From Muggins

phocks@gmail.com (Joshua Byrd) — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 17:04:49 -0800

Download now or listen on posterous

message.wav (387 KB)

Checking on my eyesight.

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Untitled

phocks@gmail.com (Joshua Byrd) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 21:05:27 -0800

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writings outside

phocks@gmail.com (Joshua Byrd) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 00:23:06 -0800

also found out that my phone picks up the infra-red light emitted from the front of the laptop

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All I got..

phocks@gmail.com (Joshua Byrd) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 22:14:25 -0800

I won artwiculate and all I got was this lousy badge, internet fame and a lovely certificate.

See and download the full gallery on posterous

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sakura sushi

phocks@gmail.com (Joshua Byrd) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 20:29:33 -0700

only place i've been to that makes this particular kind of sushi. nom!

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failwhaling..

phocks@gmail.com (Joshua Byrd) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 08:39:45 -0700

on the open electric seas

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TGIF!

phocks@gmail.com (Joshua Byrd) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 23:45:00 -0700

Stolen from @Zomb1etron who stole it from somewhere else :)

Happy Friday!

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books books books

phocks@gmail.com (Joshua Byrd) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 18:32:14 -0700

tucked away treasures
spoiled for choice
which is for me
which shall i see?

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wrapping up..

phocks@gmail.com (Joshua Byrd) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 23:19:54 -0700

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fletch and muggins playing dj

phocks@gmail.com (Joshua Byrd) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 02:24:37 -0700

at dane's exposition..

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Shattered Glass Dreams & Broken Bottled Promises

phocks@gmail.com (Joshua Byrd) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 21:23:00 -0700

Mute screams and broken applause as The Stone Throwers stumble off stage, the dreary drunken daze that hits the face while brushing past backstage curtains gives rise to faint expectations of enthusiastic encore demands that quickly fade into the next bottle of beer — so to speak — politely asked for over or under the counter, as the case may be. Need one last drink, second last perhaps, so over to the bar, no people to step over this time around. Left feeling only cold. Perhaps that is the idea.

Rewind time, I’m handing packages of hope to various venues of the Valley, my final demonstration, and final destination for the night is here. The doors are still closed, yet not to those of the underground in preparation of the show. Waiting outside for companions and comrades, great white envelope in hand, familiar faces adorn the longview and begin to converse ideas, mind to mind. Most do not recognise.

Inside, ambiance abounds as The Little One takes to stage, though it is the cellist, the somehow strangely enticing one of two, that appears to draw and dispense the greatest gaze. The coffee making lady behind the bar seems disinterested in what I would like to give her, though she eventually takes my package just the same, promising to pass it on, but I have my doubts.

Perhaps she has hers as well, just as all of us there that night singing “na na na na na” in the dark.

~ by undergroundman on 15 June, 2007.

(just an old post i found from a fictional blog i started, but never got off the ground)

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