and i got off the mat for one more round, one more roll in the hay, one last kiss before midnight, one last joust before the nuclear sunrise, the gods are screaming in rhythm and a horrible music fills the world as our societies sink deeper into mediocrity, art becomes pretension, the masses rule the airwaves, film and literature turn ugly, music becomes monotone, the crystal-white memories of blue-thunder magic passing slowly by raucous sex-talk in your window sunburn alabaster machine-gun ending, all things fade born again whiskey-sour back alley blow-jobs on her knees begging for more, early morning sex-buzz, love fades in the moonlight, Django plays the strings in the last-call reverie, boom boom and out go the lights, dishpigs run up the bar tab, musicians do the cock-walk ugly as always, that old sweet song on my mind the hours slumber by, with shadows we dance the endless slow-song caress, and the blue-morning dreaming, and the brutal long-hour sunset, and the virgin mind-fuck kiss me deadly, covered in these thoughts I smelled her perfume and saw her across the back alley as she led me in deeper and deeper the tornado in my mind screaming tortured songs unwanted happiness… Tony Nesca was born in Torino, Italy in 1965 and moved to Canada at the age of three. He was raised in Winnipeg but relocated back to Italy several times until finally settling in Winnipeg in 1980. He taught himself how to play guitar and formed an original rock band playing the local bars for several years. At the age of twenty-seven he traded his guitar for a Commodore 64 and started writing seriously. He has published six chapbooks of stories and poems (which he used to sell straight out of his knapsack at local dives and bookstores), four novels, including the brand new "The Do-Nothing Boys", a novella, a book of poetry and has been an active contributor to the underground lit scene for ten years, being published in innumerable magazines both online and in print. He currently writes a monthly article for Poetic Monthly and resides in Winnipeg. BRAND NEW NOVEL The Do-Nothing Boys is a raucous tale of teenage rebellion recounting the exploits of a teenager named Ziggy, recently returned to Canada after a three year hiatus in his native country of Italy, and the group of friends that spontaneously gather around him. A result of parental divorce, he turns to sex, drugs and rock and roll and in the process discovers deep friendship, love, loss, disintegration, and the beautiful, sad and wondrous experience of living. Written in an incendiary white-light/white-heat stream of consciousness, the words cascade down the page in a free-flow waterfall of ideas and happenings, hallucinatory at moments with surreal jaunts of what Nesca himself calls “word music”, but never straying far from the downright gritty and street-tough prose, laced throughout with a constant sexual/erotic underpinning. the ferocity of Nesca's writing is indomitable and covers weaknesses with something that approaches indisputable glory. He is a poet writing prose and dealing with material that is so close to him that he often struggles to manage it objectively. It is raw honesty from one of life's damaged angels and worth your attention... "The Do-Nothing Boys" by Tony Nesca Reviewed by Bob Williams for The Compulsive Reader AND ANOTHER: ...The poetic sensibility is almost pure in this as in many other passages and the ruthless disregard of niceties (like individual sentences) lends a rhythm and flexibility achievable in no other way. ... AND HERE'S THE EXCERPT HE INCLUDED AS AN EXAMPLE: ..."So at around 11 or 12 bottles done acid trip coming down hard and sad we said goodbye on a school night and I watched my cousin walk out the door and I thought the world of him and us and everything that had contributed to this bizarre turn of events, two Italian boys born in Torino, Italy somehow ending up across the world in Canada dropping acid and wandering the streets of Fort Garry what a surreal experience, what an orgy-fest ordeal it all turned out to be, and the melancholy moment got me thinking about my mother and brother back in Italy and my broken family and my misguided adventures I sat there feeling the darkness and the aloneness and the ultimate undeniable truth, moonlight laughter is sad and lonely...." THE DO-NOTHING BOYS full review here: http://www.compulsivereader.com/html/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=1807 About the Reviewer: Bob Williams is retired and lives in a small town with his wife, dogs and a cat. He has been collecting books all his life, and has done freelance writing, mostly on classical music. His principal interests are James Joyce, Jane Austen and Homer. His writings, two books and a number of short articles on Joyce, can be accessed at: http://www.grand-teton.com/service/Persons_Places strange days we're living in man, strange indeed, tony nesca three short bursts from my new novel... BURST ONE - And we continued in that fashion under the barren trees rust-colored grass, couple of kids race by us, a dog barks in the distance, a mother screams out her son's name, '67 Firebird burns rubber right beside us bolts off in a cloud of smoke, three stoned chicks across the street laughing and singing looking lovely in their tight jeans and striped Adidas runners, Nazzie's wiry eyes looking at me with laughter and sadness at the same time talking all kinds of shit waving his hands driven by the manic early morning beer-buzz bounce in his step worn out fedora pulled tightly around his head, myself all sinew and energy and smoking-gun-happy, chicken joint at the end of my block bursting at the edges argument in the parking lot, Vincent Massey High across the street group of punk rockers on the front steps popping pills hurling insults at the sky, Bob Marley song pops into my head "No Woman, No Cry" as we linger on and on and on cross at the walkway start crawling along Pembina past the small apartment buildings, fast food joints, small parks, angry teenagers and the other kind, car horn rips into our reality there's Ross crazy bastard behind the wheel of the Great White pulls up right beside us halting traffic large smile on his panic-stricken face, "GET IN MOTHERFUCKERS!" We jumped in the back and the shark took off followed by the complaining car horns and curses and Ross opened the small window in the cab... BURST TWO - laughing like rabid dogs we finished the job and got the fuck out of there running down the street with three garbage bags full of marijuana each buds and leaves sticking out of the tops Nazzie's fedora flying off his head took both of us to restrain him from going after it made it to Ross and the Great White and that fucker was passed out at the wheel we jumped in slamming doors swearing our heads off Ross lurched awake with that horror-look on his face, "MOVE IT FUCKHEAD!" Screamed Ibby, We bolted out of there man wired and taut and frenzied explosions but within ten minutes driving down Pembina Highway we were laughing and sticking our faces in the green green grass and complimenting each other on a job well done and the world kinda tilted to one side and the sky turned crimson red then blue and purple as the sun reared its head and we paused amidst the vanishing fog and the hopeless teenage victories… BURST THREE - But it was a mellow night at back-alley-park that I was thinking about…Ross and Joe talking in one corner about music and guitar players, Nazzie, Cindy, Brenda and Max sat on the grass in a semi-circle laughing about something, Brenda jumping up and down…me and Judy huddled against the fence on the other side of the park soft kisses in the sun-go-down beauty, my hand on her fat thighs plump and long and fleshy, we're smiling in each other's arms saying nothing just swaying in the summer breeze golden moments at dusk like these never forgotten thinking I could do that forever, thinking that life would never change and that change can go fuck itself, unwilling to accept the unavoidable ending of all things, the constant state of flux called life, the inevitable change that all things have to go through in order to achieve individuation, no, no way anyhow, not ever, I ran my fingers through the grass the leaves cool to my touch, Judy laid her head on my chest and closed her eyes, a siren echoed in the moonlight then faded, a sudden stillness came into the night where everything went quiet, or seemed to, I could feel Judy breathing on my chest and her heart beating slowly against me, happy moments at back-alley-park as the dusk settled in and we leaned forward and breathed in the moment… THE DO-NOTHING BOYS COPYRIGHT 2007 TONY NESCA AVAILABLE THROUGH PAYPAL AT: www.myspace.com/tnesca WWW.LULU.COM/NESCA $20.95 AVAILABLE VIA SPECIAL ORDER GLOBALLY AT BOOKSTORES AND LIBRARIES IN NOVEMBER - POETRY MY MELANCHOLY SUNSHINE rain just finished slick sidewalk tasty-sweet neon sign singing end of days guitar chainsaw deadly as bass goes dum dum night alive on fire in love man, The Rezillos cranking the stage-dive-electric shoes tapping a beat sidewalk-hooker-happy, round face beauty we smiling kiss kiss you so sweet girl nicotine-teeth lovely vodka 7 in the red-light-madness, early morning gray waiting in the distant bottle rocket street corner, what do you say punk-rock-crazies? what do you say in the dark night wanting, what do you say on the slick corner tasty-sweet, what do you say on the blue moon missing, what do you say baby, what do you say 'bout my melancholy sunshine... WORD MUSIC deadly silence got me low-down-hungry thinking about that hot-dog stand on the dismal corner beside the old beggar hand extended 16 year old virgin in hot-pants looking mad-bad-dangerous crimson fireball streaking across the sky middle-aged hooker front tooth missing she beckoning my weary ass one I love absent in world-gone-hungry Dixieland trio singing happy songs amidst angry downtown laughter low-down drug-mood feeding me blue music pornography rattling my brains wrap your lips around me back-alley broken hearts whiskey bottle-shards hitting the off-keys feel that fucked-up saxophone tickling your ribs atom-bomb-luvly feed me sin-soaked dead flowers on my grave warm kisses moonlight smiles her distant touch, her long-dead-musings, her love-gone-missing, her hips arching in the afternoon lust-dance, and your blue velvet beauty grinding away from me in the gutter-love sunlight… SONGS OF THE UNLUCKY give me painful pleasure sing the songs of the unlucky show me your nasty love-gone-wild your agonizing soft-touch-beauty your tasty ganja-lips in the moonlight world distant madness timeless luck in the deadly sun give me the songs of the unloved distant saxophone blowing kisses give me what you got… ESPECIALLY FOR YOU …i belong to the freaks of the world moving glad and greasy gunshot-lovely moon-struck madness out all night booze-mad thinking sleep all day sad-slumber hangover me thinking brain in overdrive-lonely brain gone wild man, brain time-warp sensation, ain't singing the songs of the wealthy ain't singing the songs of the satisfied cuz we mind-trippin' through marijuana landscape sweet memory sad and lonely i think of you bitter loveliness cuz ain't singing the songs of happy-pappy ain't singing the songs of money-madness blue light wondering electrocute me madly we the freaks moving slow-harmony-hungry we the empty pockets genius drinking till the end of the world smiling broken down wisdom, hear that goddamn guitar in the distance see the sun beat heavy feel the night silence so loud man as i move gently into the broken-heart-thunder… Tony Nesca

people who are into literature, music and film, art, fine scotch, rot-gut scotch, jazz from the twenties to the sixties, underground writers LIKE ME, hanging out at night, sleeping all day, alternative outer post rockers...people who channel their angst into something creative...urban cats and part-time recluses, part-time partiers, people looking for love in all the wrong places, all-night drinkers and marijuana smokers and fringe-dwelling-crazies from across the world, welcome!...no hang-out-in-the-country earthy types need apply...

tnesca has 39 fan club member(s)

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VIEWING 1 - 5 OUT OF 6 COMMENTS

gluv 02/22/2008 12:41:56
	hey...how've you been???

miss proud 01/08/2008 16:06:15
	i'm doing well! keep the blogs coming, they're great

funnygal 11/04/2007 14:29:57
	oh and ALSO- i don't have any stand-up clips recorded yet but when i get them i'll post them

funnygal 11/04/2007 14:29:07
	richard prior was GENIUS...for sure. i think the best way to promote your writing on the site is to friend request/comment other members and encourage them to check it out! you can search for fellow writers too and critique their work in exchange yknow?

funnygal 10/31/2007 13:33:18
	what up Tony! great writing by the way..you know how to reel 'em in