"I remember Adam gave me this crappy piece of binder paper with a list of all these songs for me to learn and some had checks by them, some had stars, some were underlined but I already new how to play them so I threw that damn crappy crap-ass piece of dumb binder paper in the damn garbage."
"Even when I go see one of my favorite bands I start to get bored/tired/over it after an hour and a half. If they said, "Guess what! We'll be playing for 2 hours tonight!!", you'd see a Jade-shaped hole in the front door."
"I saw Billy Idol about 6 years ago getting out of limo and I yelled "Billy Idol!!" at him, in case maybe he forgot. He gave me a thumbs up."
"Yes, I'm a vegetarian, but not because I love animals, I'm a vegetarian because I hate plants."
"I love your duck with all it's ducky goodness."
"And I will be your Guiding Light if you'll be my General Hospital."
The secret to AFI's awesomeness according to the Jade:"It's all in the wrist."
Jadeh yeah, and using different guitars for di
quotes of AFIJades:More Like This
"Blaqk Audio yay! does not equal AFI boo! Can't us boys have a little fun on the side?"
"If there is one thing I have learned from being a member of AFI... it is that I am buff."
"So Davey won World's Sexiest Vegetarian again. Whatever. I won World's Buffest Kickboxer, AGAIN. Jeez, that's gotta be like 10 times in a row now I've won that?"
AFireInside, to me, means these three other guys who drink all the soy milk backstage before I get a drop of it-Jade Puget
Hackey bag foot sack always confused me, I could never figure out what the score was or who was winning so I'd always get mad and end up kicking it into the lake." Jade
I'm so rock hard. You should call me Block Rockchest. Or Chip RockBlock. Or something." Jade
Mainly I've been dividing my time between working on my biceps by benchpressing Ferraris filled with supermodels and teaching the homeless to read.
Our new AP covers are out this weekend, and, in the spirit of shameless self-prom
Martwa natura-ojcuMore Like This
czas jest mi gwoździem w trumnie
wykąpaną czternastej wiosny
w wannie z wybielaczem
a na niej uśmiech
który nadal nie chce się zagoić
i ich geny recesywne idą ręka w rękę
w supermarkecie kolejny raz
łamiąc mi serce na czternaście kawałków
gdzieśkolwiek nie jest, jeśliś był
choćby i wiosną nikczemną
gwóźdź w sercu wie
perły nasenne też
że nikt tak nie solił oczu za tobą
The Boys on TreesLove is blind as a beggar's handMore Like This
reaching out for anything gold.
My blissful swooning soul swept up
middle of the night, shivering cold.
I remember each heartbeat of the day
when cuddled pressing bodies tight,
we loosed our tongues and let them play
to taste your lips, your skin, your life.
When we were boys, I ate a seed
which you tended as shoots of a sapling grew.
Its piercing roots, they drain; I bleed
your name carved in bark, bone, sinew.
I would feed my own heart to hungry dogs
could I escape this fate, sneak on by.
Though the warm embrace we shared is gone
I can't forget you; believe me, I've tried.
BraveryOn Saturday the twenty-first of January, Elliot took a gun, pressed it to the strip of bone between his eyes, and shot himself. The bullet shattered the frontal bone of his skull, warping his features past recognition, and burrowed through his pre-frontal cortex into the midbrain. He died before the sound stopped echoing through his empty apartment.More Like This
This story isn't about that.
I worked with Elliot for only a little while—less than six months. Most of what I knew about him came from his desk. Unlike the smaller ones the secretaries and other reporters had, it was a stately, imposing thing. It would've been terrifying, especially to a mousy little girl like me, but it was covered in paperweights and spare pens and pictures of people hunting ducks. Anyway, Elliot himself denied fear: he was middle-aged, poised on the cusp between forty and fifty. His hair had already turned grey, but he didn't dye it, like he hadn't noticed he was getting older or just didn't care. He smiled more t
Passing stareDare not from the cannons of my eyes,More Like This
Steadfast the spiraling trails of fire,
Withstand the volleys of ash and iron,
Dare not withdraw from the fray,
Yielding into the fear of abandon,
Twisting the blade of a hot knife run cold.
kiss your last kiss,
glimpse your last glimpse,
this is the end,
and whatever comes after,
there was nothing you could do,
to stop it.
I am FromI am from blond curlsMore Like This
and bubble gum
swinging above the bar
and flying through the air after letting go
I am from patchwork dresses at Zen monasteries
and never sitting still
reading with a flashlight under my blanket
and creating my own worlds
and quarters under my pillow
I am from violent games of Red-Rover
and singing with bands in the park
and homemade bread
and treasure hunts in tomato patches
I am from fits of giggles
and Pooh Bear bath toys swimming in bubbles
and going 'Town-town'
that single Taco Bell
and running in the road
I am from imagination
a need to learn
and a yearning for love
I am from many places
and nowhere at all