The Hot Snakes Rock.
The Hot Snakes Rock.
I can't believe that a band that rocks that hard are going to Break Up.
They rocked so hard I had to restrain myself from wanting to beat up people in the pit that pissed me off. Like the overtall fucker that insisted on standing in the front row just in front of me with the bald man short mullet.
Fucker.
After the show I was so wired I actually to a homeless person to FUCK OFF! when he asked me for change. Very out of character.
Possibly also related to the lack of sleep I've been getting lately. When I don't get enough sleep, I tend to get a bit more loopy. The general lack of sleep I had in February when I was working at the courthouse might have been related to my big time EMO attack when Hilary turned me down in favour of a South African Lawyer. (not that it matters, but she has since come to agree with me that most if not all South African men are misogynists).
But I digress.
I missed Mum and Dad at the Airport because I stopped to Blog.
I'm a fucking Blogaholic. This is terrible.
Late last night I gashed my finger washing glasses in the sink. Any bigger and it would have needed stitches. If I move my finger the wrong way it starts bleeding like a stuck pig under the bandaid. Geez.
I would have been on a train to Bognor Regis by now. Except this week has been so busy that I had absolutely no clothes, towels or anything, so I had to do some laundry before I left. Which takes to long, so I'm going tomorrow morning.
Do'h!
I think that the Hot Snakes somehow shifted my thinking patterns, becuase instead of wanting to start a Doom band now, I want to start a Jittery, sharp guitar kind of band. With beats. (Must be Skinny Puppy coming out of me).
Seriously, I just started writing lyrics around a beat in my head with guitar sounds over the top, and I couldn't stop. After feeling serious writers block most of this year it is a weird feeling.
In other news: my leather jacket is starting to smell seriously funky. I wonder how much it cost to get a motorcyle jacket drycleaned here in Leytostone?
Anyways, I've gotta go find something to do tonight until I go tomorrow.
Over and out.
I can't believe that a band that rocks that hard are going to Break Up.
They rocked so hard I had to restrain myself from wanting to beat up people in the pit that pissed me off. Like the overtall fucker that insisted on standing in the front row just in front of me with the bald man short mullet.
Fucker.
After the show I was so wired I actually to a homeless person to FUCK OFF! when he asked me for change. Very out of character.
Possibly also related to the lack of sleep I've been getting lately. When I don't get enough sleep, I tend to get a bit more loopy. The general lack of sleep I had in February when I was working at the courthouse might have been related to my big time EMO attack when Hilary turned me down in favour of a South African Lawyer. (not that it matters, but she has since come to agree with me that most if not all South African men are misogynists).
But I digress.
I missed Mum and Dad at the Airport because I stopped to Blog.
I'm a fucking Blogaholic. This is terrible.
Late last night I gashed my finger washing glasses in the sink. Any bigger and it would have needed stitches. If I move my finger the wrong way it starts bleeding like a stuck pig under the bandaid. Geez.
I would have been on a train to Bognor Regis by now. Except this week has been so busy that I had absolutely no clothes, towels or anything, so I had to do some laundry before I left. Which takes to long, so I'm going tomorrow morning.
Do'h!
I think that the Hot Snakes somehow shifted my thinking patterns, becuase instead of wanting to start a Doom band now, I want to start a Jittery, sharp guitar kind of band. With beats. (Must be Skinny Puppy coming out of me).
Seriously, I just started writing lyrics around a beat in my head with guitar sounds over the top, and I couldn't stop. After feeling serious writers block most of this year it is a weird feeling.
In other news: my leather jacket is starting to smell seriously funky. I wonder how much it cost to get a motorcyle jacket drycleaned here in Leytostone?
Anyways, I've gotta go find something to do tonight until I go tomorrow.
Over and out.
posted by the.exile at 6:25 pm
1 Comments:
Geez Gus.
You always freak out when I cut my hands.
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