tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-119498332013-03-27T12:35:14.566-07:00Podcasts/Short fiction/Short Screenplays/Interviews/Los Angeles observations, photos, and life/by an unknown writer who now lives in Jersey City, NJ. Best viewed with Mozilla.<br> <br> ALL WORK (C)2005-2008 Mers/BUNKER HILL ZINE Photo by Meik!mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.comBlogger105125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-85712144055972860642008-10-03T09:21:00.001-07:002008-10-03T09:28:39.646-07:002008-10-03T09:28:39.646-07:00

O Death,hold me up,towards the heavensacross the universein streams and dreams -O Death,is that the blue paleof life behind you?-MersI took some photos of my friend Meik! and wrote a few words for my dearest freind, Death.In return he did a photo shoot of me...here are a few of my favs:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3103/2890675105_0a931ba3ac.jpg?v=0http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3039/2890675631_

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-3208834404295356112008-09-10T09:05:00.000-07:002009-01-16T08:27:05.662-08:002009-01-16T08:27:05.662-08:00

In a world where one is not hunted as food, one is hunted by other hardships that evolutionise the self in ways that are based on interaction and processing, rather than physical evolution, ie longer legs for faster running. The predator is the teacher. - mers

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-4809503519154649832008-07-01T14:08:00.000-07:002008-07-01T14:19:05.815-07:002008-07-01T14:19:05.815-07:00

He walked with his ass out, like how a whore walks with her breasts under her neck, lifted by satin and wire, an empty deck. I see no difference between the two, but if either turned to me and smiled, said something interesting or amusing I would find playfulness in his walk, a simple heartbeat beneath the fluffy bosom I may lay my head upon.I sit on the train and sometime I think alien thoughts.

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-45940404916610837862008-06-11T10:45:00.001-07:002008-08-19T10:50:55.314-07:002008-08-19T10:50:55.314-07:00

Abandoned Factory In Jersey City...The view from my office on 45th street...The view from my office on 45th street...The view from my office on 45th street...Haha oh yeah, I have a job now, Interactive Production Assistant...

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-28022906499503270772008-05-22T20:33:00.000-07:002008-05-22T21:34:57.707-07:002008-05-22T21:34:57.707-07:00

The night was unusually warm, it was so pleasuring I walked slower, almost dreamily. The air felt like luxury, a mink coat compared to the cold steel blankets of other nights, and I walked like a leopard in a rain Forrest.I held an empty but sealed box in my hands down into the subway station.A red hair asked me if this train, the 6, would take him to Union Square. He was short with a sloppy

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-70230504249971679902008-04-29T08:44:00.001-07:002008-04-29T08:47:42.458-07:002008-04-29T08:47:42.458-07:00

Watch the mini doc on my old friend Joshua Petker made by VIMBYBrilliant artist, still a pain the ass but he will be in art history books.see his site at: www.joshuapetker.com

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-2976221334117329622008-04-26T12:51:00.000-07:002008-04-26T13:02:34.881-07:002008-04-26T13:02:34.881-07:00

Okay, So i decided to pick up my roommates guitar on a whim (i tuned it as best as i could) just to try it out...this is a recorded first attempt, unedited, at playing guitar and singing...everything is ad lib...made up on the spot, lyrics and everything.....so there are few moments of hesitation and being off key....my voice is better than this but i was staring at my fingers... my neck and

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-16089621657487137772008-04-22T12:34:00.000-07:002008-04-22T12:41:14.020-07:002008-04-22T12:41:14.020-07:00

Some news...I have a band now and we are called, THE BEAU-TRAPS. I'm singing, writing lyrics and my bandmate Clifton (Mojo Filters, Love Grenades) plays guitar and bass. We also have a drum machine and micro korg. We have about 8 songs in the works and when we get them complete we will open up a myspace page. Im really excited and pleasantly surprised at whats coming forth. Its like pegasus

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-68342387284266968392008-04-10T10:34:00.000-07:002008-04-10T10:51:27.973-07:002008-04-10T10:51:27.973-07:00

The wood was stuck to my chest by a unknown force. I felt confused, the walls of the room were sharply in focus and had a texture I never noticed before. I wanted to raise my hand and touch the object pressed upon me but a strange fear keep me immobile. There was a taste of blood in my mouth and I thought about the time my gums began to bleed, filling my mouth up with blood and how I had to hold

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-43842282561532846152008-04-09T09:48:00.000-07:002008-04-10T10:45:19.447-07:002008-04-10T10:45:19.447-07:00

The only way it could ever work, is if they shut the world out. Cut off all ties to the opposite sex, banish themselves to a desolate place, lock out all the provocative dangers outside. To be together would mean to be owned by one another. If the last day on earth came, huddled into a corner of a basement, or gripping the walls of an attic, finally it would be as it should have been. Just them,

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-17407373980817425622008-03-15T23:07:00.000-07:002008-03-17T18:31:49.815-07:002008-03-17T18:31:49.815-07:00

when I type your nameinto a messageon my phone,the auto textsequenceis:Just/Lust/----.

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-49551427064623622752008-03-07T19:36:00.000-08:002008-03-08T23:34:27.165-08:002008-03-08T23:34:27.165-08:00

I told him, I don't care what people do anymore. It's not because they will let me down. It's not because I hate them or myself. As long as my mortal body is not in danger, I can be open to any lifestyle but not at the agreement of brotherhood or osmosis. Like how a cat will live in your space but will not NOT be a cat. What people do or don't do doesn't matter to me, I suppose it's a matter more

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-40931414053762741042008-01-26T19:44:00.000-08:002008-01-26T19:55:23.534-08:002008-01-26T19:55:23.534-08:00

I wake up around noon, the room is never light enough, a constant hankerchief over the lamp, so my body slumbers on, way passed the time I prefer. When I open my eyes I see the refrigerator, the pictures curled on the freezer by little magnets. I (heart) Ny. The Beatles. Various little personal things that do not belong to me. My black clad roommate has long since left for work, and I struggle to

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-9298503454801452862008-01-22T14:55:00.001-08:002008-01-22T14:57:17.952-08:002008-01-22T14:57:17.952-08:00

In Manhattan at night, walking the streets, I find my shadow in good humor. I am vampyr.

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-24618674293458839762008-01-17T12:46:00.000-08:002008-01-17T21:12:47.206-08:002008-01-17T21:12:47.206-08:00

SEAT 594At the NY Public Library, behind the stone walls and large entry way, a yellow neon script was bright above a doorway, KEROUAC it said. I passed between two tall black lions loafing at the both sides, they nodded to me, i started the tour going counter clockwise. Handwritten and typed letters, notepads, typewriter paper and heavy Crayola pictures and sketches all with smudgy faces broke

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-66916989645154287042007-12-04T11:05:00.000-08:002008-01-17T21:13:43.612-08:002008-01-17T21:13:43.612-08:00

Here is a list of a few blogs I have been reading:Cody Smart : New York based photographer, Cody Smart's photo documentary of hitchhiking from New York to Alaska and back. The Daily Coyote : The story of a 30 year old writer/photographer who left SF on a vespa, crossed the country to NY, then decided to live in a one room cabin in WY... with her cat... and her orphaned coyote.

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-18347876977645750772007-12-04T10:35:00.000-08:002008-01-17T21:15:07.690-08:002008-01-17T21:15:07.690-08:00

Book Store made in HeavenThis bookstore resides in the Selexyz Dominicanen in Maastricht, Netherlands. I would practically live there, worshiping my holy scribes, genuflecting to leather bound saints, heavenly pages brimming with love, blood and destiny. Yesterday I bought 'The Stranger" by Albert Camus on recommendation. I was this close to taking a peek at 'The Alchemist' until I realized its

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-22852895382107832002007-11-16T11:22:00.001-08:002008-01-17T21:16:13.465-08:002008-01-17T21:16:13.465-08:00

It's official. I just put in my notice at my job today and will be moving to Brooklyn In January. I will miss you LA, I'll miss your palmtrees, your history, your sidewalks beaten down with dreams and blood, I'll miss the deathtraps, the mousetraps and the vulgarity. I'll miss downtown, I'll miss how all of your streets are like the veins on my wrist. I'll miss how you embraced me...BUNKERHILL

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-32193756447444703902007-11-08T14:10:00.000-08:002008-01-17T21:16:41.460-08:002008-01-17T21:16:41.460-08:00

Perla is dear friend of mine who lives in Rhode Island now...and today we had an intense chat about our lives, our loves, our future...I'm so flattered and touched that she was inspired by a rant of mine and posted it on her blog. She told me what she wanted for her future, and then she asked me what I wanted....read it here.

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-79645697954001011652007-10-31T17:44:00.000-07:002007-10-31T17:46:50.087-07:002007-10-31T17:46:50.087-07:00

There’s a different dimension going on. Between me and you and them. I see it when I pick up the phone to call you but hang up and a few minutes later you call me. I don’t tell you. My eyes are heavy to you. I feel your vulnerability when I look at you, your eyes yield to mine – its communication but you must break the discord with voice. You want to know what im thinking but I cant tell you

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-56511035711533119772007-10-15T10:59:00.001-07:002007-10-15T12:03:01.637-07:002007-10-15T12:03:01.637-07:00

So I don't know wtf but my podcast host has deleted my podcasts and my page is now set to default.I need to spend a few hours putting everything back up. I'll keep you posted and oh, yes I will be getting Octobers podcast up soon...im lagging a bit due to school and knives facing pointy side inwards. In the meantime here are some links of interest:Music:Magic MirrorsBoyd Rice podcast on 1960's

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-87887534083463462372007-10-05T13:34:00.000-07:002007-10-08T01:08:30.320-07:002007-10-08T01:08:30.320-07:00

Bring your Bogie or your Bacall and take a three hour train ride in a vintage 30's passenger train In Santa Monica. It's a 3 hour ride through the mountains and the Los Padres National Forrest. You can have a moving lunch in the 1928 dining car... be all wool, smoke and espionage. You know all THIS GUN FOR HIRE....I'll prob take a ride myself, it's always been a cinema wish to be on a train like

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-5515726104389208612007-10-04T23:50:00.000-07:002008-01-17T21:17:55.974-08:002008-01-17T21:17:55.974-08:00

It's kind of fucked uphow the songs that remind youof herremind meof you.it's kind of sick,because I listen to themto feel close to youbut it'slike wearing her clothesas we fuck and I demandthat you call her name.I figureit's some part of youthat will never be mineand one daythe songs that remind youof mewill be songs thatremind her of you.

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-45600310697519812672007-09-30T21:15:00.000-07:002007-09-30T23:29:57.875-07:002007-09-30T23:29:57.875-07:00

"Black is not a colour.""I thought it was the combination of all colours..." "No, black is an object, like a black hole, it absorbs all colors but there is no light to reflect them. That would be white." My hands were grey, I breathed in heavily, waiting, watching for the grey to warm up to a pink."White, so that's like a rainbow?"I turned and look at him and smiled. "I guess." I hid my hands

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11949833.post-72275427250775733222007-09-28T17:49:00.001-07:002007-09-28T17:49:57.856-07:002007-09-28T17:49:57.856-07:00

mershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07372712740356239984noreply@blogger.com0