Subliminal White Trash

Welcome. This site contains a cross section of my writing including stories, comedy skits, poetry, dialogues and observational humour with a satirical edge. Feedback is much appreciated. Coming through people! Clear a path! My e-mail is kevincpearce@yahoo.com

My Photo
Name:
Location: Burlington, Ontario, Canada

After graduating high school in 1995 with a significant amount of embarrassingly cliched emotional baggage, Kevin "Subliminal White Trash" Pearce made his way to Toronto in a perfectly understandable attempt to outrun his past. After encountering many similarly desperate and stubbornly eccentric people, Kevin found his way into the acting and spoken word scenes. With an amazing and almost inhuman effort, Kevin somehow negotiated through his self destructive tendencies on his way to finding some kind of second rate enlightenment in his strange little world of reckless, impulsive creativity. After spending three years in Toronto, Kevin decided to return to the suburbs in order to preserve his diminishing supply of mental health. Sometimes he even thinks it was the right decision.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Mock Band Interview

Interviewer: What separates you from the other bands out there?

Singer: We're pretty stupid and we hardly ever get laid. Or paid. I mean...I get laid sometimes but not nearly enough and the rest of the band are kind of hard on the eyes so it's pretty fucking sad. That's why we're so ferocious onstage...all that sexual tension and angst goes into our performance. Does that answer your question? Probably not. Oh well.

Interviewer: Uh huh...What is your target market exactly?

Singer: Fuck, I dunno. Cellulite pig Welfare Mom's with eight kid's that aren’t toilet trained. Fuck target markets. We let the record company do all that bullshit with the advertising, etc...

Interviewer: Do you respect your fans?

Singer: Let's just say that someone jumped onstage during a song and I fuckin' punched him in the face. Knocked the fucker right out. Kicked him when he was down too. Then I threw him into the mosh pit for further abuse. Fuckin' crowd loved it. We're being sued over that one but hell, you wouldn't believe the kind of publicity we're gettin' for it. A very wise career move, to say the least.

Interviewer: So, you condone violence at your shows?

Singer: When people hit a certain stage of boredom and despair they do one of two things: Destroy themselves or destroy other people. I don't really have a preference. They both make perfect sense to me and I'm sure our fans understand that. If they don't, they can go back to worrying about which dandruff shampoo to buy.

Interviewer: Tell me about your new single “Too fucked up to fall in love.”

Singer: It’s about someone who’s too fucked up to fall in love.

Interviewer: Uhhhh…..right. Your lyrics are notoriously cynical and hateful without really a proper context. Do you take responsibility for this, especially knowing that you do have a lot of impressionable young fans?

Singer: I'm in a fucking BAND, man. I can't do anything else. I can't handle responsibility. That's for the parents to deal with. I drink and do drugs. I can barely hold my dick to take a piss most nights. Look, can you leave me alone? Your questions are giving me a goddamn headache. There's really nothing more to talk about. We just do our thing, man. It doesn't hold up well to analysis. My reality is a hard sell and I'm sick of talking about it. Anyways, I'm getting hooked up with this groupie chick in half an hour and I can't get erect unless I'm on a certain mix of coke and ecstasy. Quote me on that if you want. End of interview. God, my head hurts. GET OUT OF MY DRESSING ROOM OR I WILL CUT YOU.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

The Beginning of Something

This is one of the first things I ever wrote that I can honestly say I'm still happy with. It was written sometime in 1992 although it has been re-edited.

The masses are waiting

The masses are waiting. The masses grow heavy as they walk in awkward circles, bumping into each other with blank, emotionless faces and empty heads. They rise from the ground and continue to walk in circles, teeth and gums perfect. Skin flawless. Immaculate clothing and hair. They pulsate from deep within, waiting, needing instructions to break free from their routine. Patterns develop as they stumble around in broken circles waiting to synthesize. Synthesize information and absorb into memory. Instructions are given to each person at precisely the same time as they break into a well calculated movement towards a new destination. One of them breaks the mold and throws his hands madly in the air, overcome with the excitement of reaching the new destination. A scream of triumph escapes his quivering lips as he is immediately attacked by the others. He is beaten with fists and feet before he is able to process more of the unwanted thoughts. He lies motionless, so very dead as the others resume their awkward circle around him, stumbling in obvious patterns, careful not to touch the lifeless deviant as they wait for further instructions.

An old poem that was among the first things I ever wrote...it doesn't reflect my mindset now but I still think it's worth something...

let me in

I am standing in front of a mirror
Staring at my naked reflection
Calmly surrendering to the atmosphere of
casual sex and violence
that surrounds me
trying to figure out priorities
I can't see a thing through this
mindless ambition,
this sexy suicide
mission