mikal haley's Page

One note to the old school friend that i helped and who helped me.:

DEATH to cointelpro for DARING to manipulate our minds, lives, souls -- before ANY of us were BORN.
what cannot be borne is the AFFRONT to human dignity.

no one speaks for me and I like it that way.

now I am no one. and i

??

I AM THE FUCKING PHOENIX EFFECT. you KNOW my infinite MERCY and also MY FLAMES.

so i expect Someone We Both Know and DO NOT LOVE to feel the feeling of, uh, A FLAMING BIRD RIPPING OUT HIS DAMNED EYES.


you know me
you ate my mothers FUCKING cooking. we are friends, and I ASAY WHO I AM, NOT THE PIGS WHO CONSPIRED TO MINDPHUCK MY PARENTS while i was precoinceopved andthey were in powelton village being, uh, Just like us.


that's how much I love YOU and your silver locks, Auntie Oh.


read all about it in The Progressive Lansdowner
on sale here.

as for anythingh else to say: NADA unrtil you figure out how good it is.
still:
New "Better than revenge" -- only from Chip.

-----------"Naturally," she says.


--
MY BEST FRIEND WOULD BITE HER TONGUE. ANGRY FOR PEACE?

SHE WOULD BITE HER TONGUE OFF AND CHOKE ON THE BLOOD BEFORE SHE SAID

YOU SHOULD KILL THEM
YOU SHOUYLD HAVE KILLED THEM WHERE THEY STOOD,
except for the drummer...

BUT SHE DOESN'T HAVE TO,
that's why she's my friend

and believe me when i say
aside from my milk mama

it is that which got us to where we are now.

DAMN them.

But --
they are not the only people i regret not killing. hwt to do.

the name of this story is "what would YOU have done?"

because on the small, it was a matter of personal extortion. i was the target. now, i tired the would-be extortionists out, and they gave up but first: what did i have that the three extortionists wanted?

talent. straight up. i'm humble, i know what humble means, but i also know what coveted, sought after, viewed as a commodity means.

i won't name them to protect the innocentas per the usual tradition in writing: but seeing as i am the writer, stright up -- the extortionists were NOT in this case the innocent ones worth protecting. Othere were involved.

I sang in two bands and did lyrics for them: in both situations i was the "stunt vocalist" -- meaning that i was a replacement in established bands for the position of frontman. Lead singer, lyricist. no bproblem. iwas doing stuff, i was partying on the weekend. cool.

along came this one dude. and he suggests to me "chip, i'm getting a project together, i heard you can sing. you wanna jam?"
i knew the guy, a little.

my friend's band was going through bass players epsodically, like they were just getting torn up by the band's schedule and challenging partyfunk approach. when i met the fucker in question, i had seen him wearing a dress. he had skinny hairy legs...it was ugly.

my BUDDY'S band -- and he's still my buddy -- had washed this guy out as bass player. they wore and made COSTUMES for their party funk band,...
dude who wanted me to sing was just a slacker -- they said costumes, he showed up in drag...it was lame, and i remembered, especially his ugly skinny hairy legs...

anyway later he approaches me -- not in drag, and suggests jamming.

sure.

i give it a try. it's sort of mediocre and uninspiring. we jam and he sucks a couple of my friends from the street including jake, the great homeless percussionist.

but it's all a fucking scam. he never wanted a side project. he has his mainstream band and he's trying to suck me in to sing for them.

later i hear that the shit head thinks i want to have sex with him.

my older brother raped me when i was seven and he was seventeen. i talk about it in my comedy and spoken word routine, it's a post therapy thing, no propblem,.


but the dude from the band who were trying to get me by trickerry to sing for them -- a a - class absolute faggot.


even THAT in itself is not ebnough to really make me mad. there's a lotta queers in the industry: it's part of life. but the shithead in question -- the extortionist -- he --

ugh...DEATH..i hate the fucker.

their attitude was straight up punk nazi. they told me about how they hated all other bands, and that they all hated each other, and that that was the only way that you could "make it in the industry."

that shit didn't even work for the pistols. backfired...

INTERLEWD:
The Murder

The known facts are short and few. Nancy Spungen died in the bathroom of room 100 of the Chelsea Hotel West 23rd Street New York. She died from a single stab wound an inch below her navel somewhere between the hours of 4 and 9 O'clock on Wednesday the 12th of October. The alleged murder weapons were found on the blood stained bed, they were clean of both finger prints and blood. There was no money in the hotel room a fact that would later hold some significance.

Later that day Simon John Beverley A.K.A. Sid Vicious was charged with Second degree murder. As to how Sid and Nancy spent their last few hours together is something of a mystery and the truth perhaps will never be known. Here is what we do know.




Sid and Nancy spent part of that tuesday night in the company of two other musicians, one Stiv Bators (since deceased lead singer of the Dead Boys ) and Neon Leon, an unemployed musician who was also a resident at the Chelsea Hotel. That evening all four had been out looking at knifes. Nancy had selected a five inch lock knife and gave it as a present to Sid.

Neon Leon in his statement to the police said that a little after midnight Sid return to his room with two gold records and his leather jacket for him to look after. At about 4.30am Neon received a call from Nancy asking for marijuana.


Another witness a dealer / user called Rockets Redglare made a statement to police saying that he had delivered a small quantity of synthetic morphine to room 100 around 1.30 that morning.


"To tell the truth, at the time it wouldn't have surprised me if he or anyone killed her, she was that obnoxious. When she started up with that incessant whining she was more than the human mind could bear." Chrissie Hynde
Rotten No Irish No Blacks No Dogs


He took several hundred dollars promising to supply more the following day. When he left some time between 4 and 5am that morning Nancy was still alive. When leaving the hotel Redglare says that he saw another dealer, Steve Cincotti arriving. Cincotti statement says he supplied Sid and Nancy with Tuinal and then left six hours later the front desk received a call from Sid asking for an ambulance.

According to police Sid Vicious admitted the murder later that morning. Later still he'd claim to have no recollection of it. In later interviews he claimed to have awoken during the night to see Nancy playing with the knifes. Gouching out he woke later still to find Nancy in the bathroom dying. This was when he called for an ambulance.
-------------------------------------------------------------
why include that?
because i know that story of the sex pistols. that's why i refused to be in a band with what amounted to self hating nazi geeks whose music wasn't THAT good.

they were such venal jerkoffs...musically -- hey -- get this: i knew their drummer from the scene...

punk scenes come and go, and they are prertty wartered down anymore. no one really knows about politics and don't admit it if they do. that's pretty much what happened...

punk's dead/not dead

everybody's got an opinion.
even the dead have opinions. maybe...maybe weir is finally tired of playing cheap gigs for smelly, unwashed kids who are a pale imitation of the diehard acid head dropouts he started playing for. maybe that's why The Grateful Dead are now just called "the Dead" and charge $90 a head to see them even in the towns where they were made famous, immortal...maybe the scene that they came out of is just dead now, compared to the jaon baez and joni mitchell days.

------

when i told them that i couldn't sing with them, i erased the tapes because i saw what they were about.

my old friend who i'd made out with after parties, their hot riot girl drummer, she was rthe kicker for me because i saw what they had done to her mind.


she was a straight up riot as chica\, activist and conscious...but the people she had hooked up with -- as a prominent female drummer she had become sort of locally notorious, not famous like britney or paris, but known in the east coast bar and warehouse scenes...

their nazi geek bullshit had worked on her mind,
and you see it when you know people and they change,become "against themselves".


i erased the tapes.
oh, also, they were fucking plagiarists. song thieves.

the worst! there was no way i was singing for them.

so like venal fucking JERKOFFS they went around the east coast hardcore scene adding b. s. about me to their general singerless b. s.

(ah, he's got no talent. he's a closet queen. he's so and so, he's this, he's that)

to people who didn't know me.
did i give a fuck? you bet i did.
but not in the way that the friggin' guitar player wanted,
because he wanted me in the ass.
no fucking hairy greek disgusting WAY that THAT was happening.

like i said; talking about my experiences as an adult survivor of incest, sexual assault-- that's part of the comedy and spoken word that i do. because i'm straight. but THOSE guys?