Killing one's happy high
So, I found the new Pilotdrift cd for super-cheap and used at CD Tradepost this morning. I've been wanting to hear this since Marty from Salt the Earth told me about them something like two years ago. I'd heard their demo stuff, and the cd is even more amazing. I'm sitting here, finishing up the nuthouseblog post, and I'm feeling pretty good. The music's all orchestral dirge-like, beauty and whatnot, and Tony walks through the living room saying "Bad music! No! Bad!"
This makes me cock an eyebrow, turn to look at him, and inquire as to what the hell he's talking about. He then explains that "I don't like this kind of music." This requires me explaining that if he's going to be walking out of his room to come out here and make fun of what I'm listening to, he can just head right on back. When he gets older, he'll learn how bad it is to mock a music-reviewer dad. He's young enough to where I don't want to tear apart the things he likes.
Yet.
Jesus. Add into this Dom asking Tony if he wanted chips last night, just so he could tell him, "You can't have any," and the kids are turning into vicious little shits.
This makes me cock an eyebrow, turn to look at him, and inquire as to what the hell he's talking about. He then explains that "I don't like this kind of music." This requires me explaining that if he's going to be walking out of his room to come out here and make fun of what I'm listening to, he can just head right on back. When he gets older, he'll learn how bad it is to mock a music-reviewer dad. He's young enough to where I don't want to tear apart the things he likes.
Yet.
Jesus. Add into this Dom asking Tony if he wanted chips last night, just so he could tell him, "You can't have any," and the kids are turning into vicious little shits.