Spanish Bombs!

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Monday, October 17, 2005
Cut cards with Rex, you'll get three an' he'll get a two. You know what I mean?

Wooo! Time surely does fade away!

I meant to make it a point to update this here piece of noodle kaboodle. Naturally, I failed. Failed like our forefathers! I know not what I say, nor why I say it. Yet I hate to see this Blog fade into obscurity, like Tom Fogerty. Seriously, if anyone knows where ol' Tom is, give me a call. I've got his wallet.

Ice cream castles in the air! Who put them there? It's all part of a secret government plan. Their plan is three-fold: circulate brown acid, place ice cream castles in the air, invade Canada. The pieces are all coming together like... pieces of something that comes together. Someone! Bring me an analogy! Or some reasonable facsimile. Today is Reasonable Facsimile Day. At the end of the day, a winner will be selected, and (s)he will be rewarded with a toaster OR some reasonable facsimile!

See how it works? Well! I'm gonna go kill some more Dr Pepper. I'll see you all later.

Alone and low as low can be,

Friday, September 02, 2005
In case you didn't already know, it's September.

Since last we met, many things have happened. Now, when I say "many things" I actually mean "very few things." I may be getting a job at FYE. Then again, I may not. Time shall tell.

My stomach is uneasy tonight. Twisting with jealous rage! Jealous of organs that function correctly, that is.

I need some damn money, that's for sure. I would like to announce that I'm now accepting donations. Please, be generous. Katrina is nothing compared to the shambles I find myself in these days.

I don't think there's much more to say. So I'll see you all later.

Thursday, August 18, 2005
Why do I keep fucking up?

Sunday, August 14, 2005
Having just watched The Lost World: Jurassic Park, I know consider myself in an elite category reserved for... well, the elite.

This digital world we live in frightens me, quite frankly. It's an age of digital products and immediacy. Instant contact, is where I'm heading with this. The fact that I can sign on to the ol' AIM-bot and talk to anyone at just about anytime frightens me. This constantly "plugged-in" world is not something I yearn for, yet I utilize it as much as the next man. The amount of contact maintained is a detriment to relations, I feel. As much as I enjoy the company of the fellas, is seperation a four letter word these days? One could just avoid the inter-nets, but, Jesus, who does that? Also, THX.

Mind you, I write this sitting at the computer, currently logged onto AIM, wondering where everyone is.

I've been noodlin' around with some music and some words arbitrarily selected from the ol' OED and some results have been formulated. The amount of actual work that goes into the writing of a song is overlooked by the average non-song writer. Most people (including a BETA version of myself) think that songs just sort of happen. But it's more of a matter of sitting down and looking at the words and listening to the notes. However, this is more of a note to myself than anyone out there in Hitsville, U.K.

I am expanding width-wise.

Tonight is an exceptionally moist night. I despise humidity. It causes me nothing but grief and terrible discomfort. Also, I've noticed some strange names in my travels. The number one contender thus far: Fayssoux. I shall name my daughter Fayssoux, provided I do indeed procreate. However, it's illegal in thirty states [for me] to procreate. But you gotta roll with the punches. I suppose. I bet a boxer coined that.

And with that, I leave you.

Defying Gravity,

Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Here I am, ladies and gents. Here in the Big Green Country, where things are much different from your average city life. In a few moments I must finish of the lawn. The lawn that I started on Monday. But for the time being, I shall occupy more space on this particular inter-net.

It appears to be hot out today. I wouldn't know, not having walked out of my room this morn. That would make my previous statement a lie, as I cannot see the outside from my room. But I am convinced that it will be on the "wawm" side.

Today I might "throw down" some "jams" with "Matt Messer." Messer is one of the more solid drummers around. Word on the street has it he wants to throw together a musical ensemble of sorts. I would not mind at all getting involved in that particular equation, as I have done nothing but stagnate here on my own. Though I have mastered the pedal steel. Take that, Ben Keith.

It's not how it used to be, friends. Not at all. I'm a much different person than I was two or three years ago. I suppose, however, I'm now the kind of man I always thought I'd be, though you can hardly call that a man. But for better or worse, I am.

Mama tried to raise me right, but I refused.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Two packs of cigarettes and a bottle of Amitryptaline later....

That's right, my friends. I have bloomed into a flower, so fragile and yet so volatile. I update this blog not out of necessity, but out of sheer lack of excitement.

Two days of work left and I'm a free man. That is, free to apply for another job. Gotta pay them bills. The quality of my life would go through the roof if you would pay my goddamn expenses. But now, you're nothing but a bunch of lollygaggin' lollygaggers, the lot of you. I spit on thee!

The new John Hiatt CD is very good. I'm quite sure all of you of you have been waiting for an indepth perusing of the album. If that's what you want, then get the hell out now. For the sake of brevity, I shall write a small paragraph!

The fact that two of the four North Mississippi Allstars play on the album, you'd think the songs would smoke like so much campfire. But no! It's a slow boil. Not a bad boil, at all. The first track really sets the tone: slow, thoughtful songs for the introspective. A lot of country finesse and a bare-bones production design. While it does not have the immediate hooks of, say, Crossing Muddy Waters or possibly Slow Turning, the two or so listen-throughs are well rewarded. On a scale from one to awesome, it gets about a forty.

I've been writing a lot of things lately. Notice my use of the word "things." None of what I write is necessarily anything but a thing. Some are small, meaningless rhymes I scribble and dedicate to John. One rant turned into a three page epic involving a king and queen. Roughly ninety percent of what I write should be immediately thrown to the ground in a hailstorm of passion and Greek mythology. But the five percent that I can look back on without welling up in tears of rage may be recycled for something useful. The other five percent is dedicated to my brothers-in-arms in South Africa.

If Mississipi lent Missouri her New Jersey, what did Deleware?

Idaho, Alaska.