Stevil's podcast

Feeding frenzy is over. No more food. I'm stuffed. No cheese.

Absent of words, fiendish plots, collective patterns and nervous habits - normal patterns don't work at all. Food instead.

It's okay, don't worry. The night still gives birth to the day and if it wasn't meant to reach into that place, it wouldn't be able to fit. Right? Am I wrong? Am I wrong? Am I wrong? I'm calmer than you...

Pulling the wool over my eyes, I hit the bricks because it's f**k or walk. I must close the deal or eat my tail to stay alive. The drool on my lips felt like fingernails on a chalkboard - disturbing and awakening me to the day. Welcome brothers and sisters, taste the crumbs of my vengeance. The water feels great. Watch out for the sharks, shakes, shattered dreams. Dig!

The rudder is stuck and the ship is out of control. Man the sails! Clear the decks! Women and children first. Abandon ship! Run for your lives...
Broken... dreams... falling... cream puffs... silent angels sending kisses in the dark for the troll with the bug eye... pulsating chancre spewing the innards of a disease well spread... listen... feel it flowing through your soul... welcome to the disease. One of us... One of us... One of us...

A fine, foggy June morning that turned into a hot, summer day during my 3 hour show. Full circle. Dynamo! You can hear the end of a Cheap Trick song at the beginning - that was me, mine...I done that to feed the vacuum of inner need and craving for the anchored sounds of my youth in a toilet plunging frenzy on momentary remembrances that quickly fade to urban chaotic ear buzzing zolts and piercings. Hail the Vacuum!

Continuing with the sounds of creatures crawling out of my stomach and out into the world creating chaos and mayhem - but always with love.

I woke up dead. It was all I could do to get out of bed and crawl to the KUSF Studios to bring this collection of gruff to the airwaves. So love it, or hate it, or...whatever. Right on!

Buckets of blood, pus and tasty intestine. All for you.

Zombie man crawls up from the grave to feast on blood and run amuck throughout the town. After so many nights of minimal amounts of sleep, I am that zombie, and you are listening to the blood of my victims.

This is the ending of the beginning. Fluttering wings of birds within my eyes, reflecting the movement of time that escapes, but not without leaving its mark, penetrating deep into the rhythm of consciousness, melting the cheese of my existence onto my vegie-patty coffin, setting me free into the wild flame and calling me an a-hole. Some things never change.

We have gathered here today to witness the foolishness of Stevil. This buffoonery signifies years of practice and focused concentration. Like many before him, Stevil has embarked down this treacherous path ill equipped for the harsh conditions and dangerous circumstances. At the sign post up ahead, your next stop: Nowheresville.

The next incarnation of the inevitable. Moss growing all along the edges and crickets chirping. Summer. Cool. Hot. Word.

First part of this fan-freakin-tastic morning. Well, I am still sleepy 10 hours later. The frogs in my eyes are jumping like crazy and the yo-yos in my blood are "walking-the-dog."