the end of everything.
nobody cared about my free soda report. or my joan rivers coffee report. what is the point of lj if no one even cares about the mundanities of my life. my sister gets to write pages about jobs gone awry and is greeted with a chorus of sympathies, but my collapsing bathroom ceiling, described in an appropriate 2-3 sentences elicits nothing?
in other news, auditioning guitarists is the weirdest fucking thing ever. however, last night's highly successful interview did spawn this exciting track list for our next album (sequencing tbd):
-the end of everything
-the temple fell
-will you still love me tomorrow: no.
and of course:
-let's stop
and for good measure, the mother and the colony can just recur with a new and frightening drum part, and some even grosser lyrics. why stop at rotting fruit, really, when there are so many ripe metaphors for my body right now.
have a drink on me if you have any further ideas to contribute.
in other news, auditioning guitarists is the weirdest fucking thing ever. however, last night's highly successful interview did spawn this exciting track list for our next album (sequencing tbd):
-the end of everything
-the temple fell
-will you still love me tomorrow: no.
and of course:
-let's stop
and for good measure, the mother and the colony can just recur with a new and frightening drum part, and some even grosser lyrics. why stop at rotting fruit, really, when there are so many ripe metaphors for my body right now.
have a drink on me if you have any further ideas to contribute.