(no subject)
Well guys, I'm home.
I've been home eleven days now.
You might have noticed this.
I can't do any top 25 lists, because, unfortunately, I wasn't able to hear much new in London.
I do know that Death From Above 1979- You're a Woman, I'm a Machine
Is rad.
Then again in typical Don fashion I never listen to anything new. Andy knows this. We've discussed, many times.
I think Half-Smiles of The Decomposed should be on every top 25, just because of Huffman Prairie Flying Field. I can't really imagine a more perfect "final song." And so regardless of how the rest of the album is (and its pretty decent), the man has earned in his 21 years or what have you, to have a place in the top 25.
Nick Ray's latest blog entry is hilarious.
Kevin is getting screwed over, again, by a girl. Best times are still had with Kev. Even if more and more often they are spent wallowing in general disgust and disappointment with various aspects of our personal lives (in the microcosm) and/or various apsects of the world at large (in the macrocosm).
I'm pretty much only playing bass from now on, except for OND. And oh yeah, about OND, fucking Jeremy fucking fucked it up so now we have to find a new fucking drummer for spring. I am so sick of this shit. I had pretty serious plans to, you know, do something relevant and worthwhile for once. These plans were supposed to involve OND. Now they most likely will not be seen through. SO fuck that band. (Love you guys)
I am glad that Kev is still open to playing music, wherever (Riz dude I proposed NYC and he said he'd follow wherever- so, uh, yeah, buy me a loft!). I figure with my new found love of the bass we'll be the next godheadsilo, Lightning Bolt, Death From Above, whatever. Speaking of which, brother Matt asked if I wanted to front a DFA-style band with him on bass, half-jokingly. I thought it was the greatest idea ever. I don't know a sicker bassist than my brother. But sadly I am not a front man.
Last night hung with the Frankfortians. DID NOT MAKE OUT WITH ANY FRANKFORTIANS. This is a plus.
But I mean, we were hanging out with TEN DUDES so maybe its not suprising. And Julie. Hi Julie!
Then we had a slumber party at my apartment.
I can tell who my friends are by how many bullets they'd put in my back. But more importantly, whether they'd do so with one eye open, or both eyes open, or both eyes squeezed blissfully shut. Right now:
Sydney- Six bullets in my back. Both eyes closed.
Pam- Six bullets in my back. Both eyes closed.
Brendon- Six with both eyes open. A frenzied unloading into my corpse. Perhaps a reload and then six more
as I lay dying.
Riz- Four with one eye open. Self-defense, he says.
Andy- Two (to be sure). One eye sighting down the barrel. For my own good, he says.
Kevin- One mercifully to the back of the head, both eyes open.
Mat- One to my left foot, with boys eyes squeezed shut. (Nonlethal but scarred for life)
Greg F- Six innocent bystanders, hit and killed. Has to use a gin bottle to finish the job.
Victor- One to the spine. Knows that I'll be shitting all over myself and unable to function for the rest of my life.
Courtney- Stabbed in the back of the heart.
Greg D- The only one to shoot me in the face. Twice.
If I lose my friends/
I hope I'm told/
I hope that someone tells me.
-Death From Above
Coming up: Esther Mix, Courtney Mix, Christmas Mix.
I've been home eleven days now.
You might have noticed this.
I can't do any top 25 lists, because, unfortunately, I wasn't able to hear much new in London.
I do know that Death From Above 1979- You're a Woman, I'm a Machine
Is rad.
Then again in typical Don fashion I never listen to anything new. Andy knows this. We've discussed, many times.
I think Half-Smiles of The Decomposed should be on every top 25, just because of Huffman Prairie Flying Field. I can't really imagine a more perfect "final song." And so regardless of how the rest of the album is (and its pretty decent), the man has earned in his 21 years or what have you, to have a place in the top 25.
Nick Ray's latest blog entry is hilarious.
Kevin is getting screwed over, again, by a girl. Best times are still had with Kev. Even if more and more often they are spent wallowing in general disgust and disappointment with various aspects of our personal lives (in the microcosm) and/or various apsects of the world at large (in the macrocosm).
I'm pretty much only playing bass from now on, except for OND. And oh yeah, about OND, fucking Jeremy fucking fucked it up so now we have to find a new fucking drummer for spring. I am so sick of this shit. I had pretty serious plans to, you know, do something relevant and worthwhile for once. These plans were supposed to involve OND. Now they most likely will not be seen through. SO fuck that band. (Love you guys)
I am glad that Kev is still open to playing music, wherever (Riz dude I proposed NYC and he said he'd follow wherever- so, uh, yeah, buy me a loft!). I figure with my new found love of the bass we'll be the next godheadsilo, Lightning Bolt, Death From Above, whatever. Speaking of which, brother Matt asked if I wanted to front a DFA-style band with him on bass, half-jokingly. I thought it was the greatest idea ever. I don't know a sicker bassist than my brother. But sadly I am not a front man.
Last night hung with the Frankfortians. DID NOT MAKE OUT WITH ANY FRANKFORTIANS. This is a plus.
But I mean, we were hanging out with TEN DUDES so maybe its not suprising. And Julie. Hi Julie!
Then we had a slumber party at my apartment.
I can tell who my friends are by how many bullets they'd put in my back. But more importantly, whether they'd do so with one eye open, or both eyes open, or both eyes squeezed blissfully shut. Right now:
Sydney- Six bullets in my back. Both eyes closed.
Pam- Six bullets in my back. Both eyes closed.
Brendon- Six with both eyes open. A frenzied unloading into my corpse. Perhaps a reload and then six more
as I lay dying.
Riz- Four with one eye open. Self-defense, he says.
Andy- Two (to be sure). One eye sighting down the barrel. For my own good, he says.
Kevin- One mercifully to the back of the head, both eyes open.
Mat- One to my left foot, with boys eyes squeezed shut. (Nonlethal but scarred for life)
Greg F- Six innocent bystanders, hit and killed. Has to use a gin bottle to finish the job.
Victor- One to the spine. Knows that I'll be shitting all over myself and unable to function for the rest of my life.
Courtney- Stabbed in the back of the heart.
Greg D- The only one to shoot me in the face. Twice.
If I lose my friends/
I hope I'm told/
I hope that someone tells me.
-Death From Above
Coming up: Esther Mix, Courtney Mix, Christmas Mix.