Marc
Hi. I'm Marc. Welcome to what is more and more becoming my own personal writing forum. Honestly now, where the fuck are all my partners in crime? I talked to Scooter on the phone today, and I hung out with Zook a few nights ago, and I fucking see Matt every waking minute of my days. Why they no write no more? Help. I think we're drowning.
Mish at the Pirouette is right, I did speak long ago about getting some kind of wicked ass blogging chip installed in the head, because I had tons of things to say, and could never remember them long enough to get down on paper or keyboard before my blogging sessions. I'm sure we both think its geeky to think that something like this would be cool, just the same way we both agree that hippies are intrinsically lame, but it would really save on the hassle of forgotten ideas and bruised egos, wouldn't it now?
I'm sitting, once again, within the friendly borders of the Kankakee area, having just arrived from a Cunt Puppet show in lovely Kempton, Illinois. It was a fourty minute drive to a town that has less than 100 people within its borders, but somehow they managed to book this band that has a knack for conversion. The idea is simple: take five average independent rockers and turn them into beer guzzling, potty-mouthed, white trash, male chouvinist (sp?) pigs. Stick them in the middle of a hick town in the middle of butt-fucking-nowhere, and let them do what they do best. My expectations were low, but they converted me with such catchy tunes as "You Can't Keep Me From Drinking, Bitch" and the longest version of "Freebird" this side of the Appalachians. I'll expand further.
Hi. I'm Marc. Welcome to what is more and more becoming my own personal writing forum. Honestly now, where the fuck are all my partners in crime? I talked to Scooter on the phone today, and I hung out with Zook a few nights ago, and I fucking see Matt every waking minute of my days. Why they no write no more? Help. I think we're drowning.
Mish at the Pirouette is right, I did speak long ago about getting some kind of wicked ass blogging chip installed in the head, because I had tons of things to say, and could never remember them long enough to get down on paper or keyboard before my blogging sessions. I'm sure we both think its geeky to think that something like this would be cool, just the same way we both agree that hippies are intrinsically lame, but it would really save on the hassle of forgotten ideas and bruised egos, wouldn't it now?
I'm sitting, once again, within the friendly borders of the Kankakee area, having just arrived from a Cunt Puppet show in lovely Kempton, Illinois. It was a fourty minute drive to a town that has less than 100 people within its borders, but somehow they managed to book this band that has a knack for conversion. The idea is simple: take five average independent rockers and turn them into beer guzzling, potty-mouthed, white trash, male chouvinist (sp?) pigs. Stick them in the middle of a hick town in the middle of butt-fucking-nowhere, and let them do what they do best. My expectations were low, but they converted me with such catchy tunes as "You Can't Keep Me From Drinking, Bitch" and the longest version of "Freebird" this side of the Appalachians. I'll expand further.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home