news of the recent |
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shows:
Inside Ports
Outside Ports Interest
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Reading Material
Evan
Powers - Little Deaths TPB by Bendis/Oeming Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon
Evan
Andrew Bird - The Mysterious Production of Eggs _________________
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Tuesday, December 03, 2002
I guess I remembered it wrong Come to think of it, back when I was writing 13 part-5/4 timed-19 minute epic songs I was drinking far more than I do now. Like, sad drunk come bedtime, "hey, how'd I get to my room?" drunk. Perhaps I'll quit entirely. Maybe I'm at a content medium and should stay.
See how you feel in the morning I could be crazy. I might start drinking more, maybe this will make me forget parts to songs and, in effect, make songs less complicated, though slightly more since I might start forgetting parts in the midst of playing. Well, verdict is in, Low is good. And they write really good lyrics. Yeah, that's my adjective, "good." Yup. That's it. Off to play some music differently because the album had to be good, and not complicated. Minimalism, here we go. Oh, here.
You Can Take That Stuff To Canada Good practice tonight. So many parts. I've determined Chris is crazy. I will practice these songs, although I think I've already used up as much brainspace with three songs that was used up with over half of Agent Ink's catalog. I think I'll quit drinking to free up some space.
An image of sound, they are one in the same because one likes to move, and one stays the same Last night, me boughts an album I am still scared to listen to. I've heard it is really good, and I don't want to listen to it and rethink my songs just because I like what is on the album. This has happened with many an album. Leaves Turn Inside You, Very Soon & in Pleasant Company, etc. Cost me a pretty penny. Should just listen to it. Hope last night's blog will blog itself now. Killed a big roach a lil while ago. Sprayed him with some stuff, flipped himself over, was down for count in 00:30.
Ch-ch-ch-changes R-Son, I hear what you're saying, so here are the changes, effective immediately: 1. Maple Stave is out. I want a one word title that says, "yeah, rock, fuck yeah, man, no, really, damn, that's rock." Names on the table: SATAN, FIRE!, FUCKING ROCK BAND, or Le Bling..SONIC!. 2. I've cut the sides out of all my jeans. They're acid washed hip huggers. You should pick up some for yourself. Wondering what kind of shirts we should have. Definitely think we have to play in courduroy jackets with suede elbow patches. Ah, and one word, Aviators. As for the shaving, well, after years of tight pants, I have patches of hair; you don't know what you're getting yourself into. 3. Funny, most people claiming to come from "the streets," they don't enunciate "I am." Regardless, more rap will make its way into songs. That girl I met at the bookstore used to spin, she has turntables, I say she's in. And with turntables, hell, we don't have to even pick up those goddamn heavy instruments anymore. I'm going back oldskool for my lyrics, talking about how my parents didn't love me and all. Like how my mom wouldn't buy me more G.I.Joes so I could have a war. 4. Shows, I already have a goddamn tour lined up First show is Saturday, play straight through Wednesday. Man, we need a drummer. 5. And Coverdale Page it is. Just gotta buy the album, throw it down, we'll mix in some tracks from Slash's Snakepit on the second table, maybe just the solos. Ah, yeah, things is looking good now.
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