Busy. Bzz bzz bzz. Pittsburgh. Bzz bzz bzz. Re-addicting myself to online gaming via Quake III (used to play a shitload of Quake II a long time ago online). The good old days are good and gone as far as that goes. Now there's this. And that. And the other.

The melody in the Beatles' "Not A Second Time" really is great. Yeah, it's the one with the supposed Aeolian cadences or whatever the hell they are, but think about that for a moment. If you have that song, go take a listen to it and consider the fact that it was released in the early '60s. That a rock band that everyone initially thought would go away would create something with that kind of melody. Hardly a waste.

You really should also dig Kathy Compton's Recovering Humans album and dig the bridge in the first song. It's all of a sudden "Strawberry Fields Forever" underscored with this dramatic guitar line that brings back 2002 in a sudden flash. It's quick and amazing.

"Stupid Spontaneous Song"

by Jason Thompson

yesterday tomorrow's gone
there is no rain
there is no one
who'll bring me change

i can see a lot of things
the diamond wheels
the broken strings
and freelancing

chorus:
fucked out like a turnip
squashed in a motherlode
of retinue
due to the free
carl moxley's got his man
the underscore is close at hand
and two bit cherry turnip picker trucks

Holy height muddy. That's not Jim, that's only an alabaster monkey! Bastard said he had two for me if I wanted 'em. Naturally I did, so says I. So's I go down there to pick the damn thing up and instead of it being something living, it is, in fact, a dead mule. Oxide errant piece of shit muskie go go clutch monger. You know how that goes. Always looking left. Not looking right. Outta sight. If only I could capture the daydream in a blinding snow rig fitted with a hot bra. If only indeed.

Let's recap last night. Booze plus snacks plus microwaved cheap ass rigatone in a rich tomato sauce = the pukes. Well, at least if the pukes are triggered by gagging while trying to down some imbuprofen. Mmmmm. Casual kakking.

Fuckin' A. Let's see. A Hurricane. An Olde English "800", and now my second Hornsby's Draft Cider. Live vicariously through me, kids!

Well OK, it looks like I won't be going off to some shitty wedding after all. Ask me why sometime and I might tell you. :)

Hello, gang. I'm afraid yours truly has been dragged off to some shitty wedding (no, not mine), so I won't be back until the 21st of April. Give my regards to sanity.