::
2019 4 October :: 9.27pm
:: Music: Murder City Devils
So carve it in rock
I tears of prayer
Everyone knows
What it's called
Does a steamer help
I am I say
I am I cry
Inoculated safe
In my pale disguise
I too have dreams
They sometimes arise
I only have one thing to say
My only call
So carve it in rock
And let it be known
Here stands the asshole
Who dreamed of shitting gold
Here stands the asshole
Who dreamed of shitting gold
Here stands the asshole
Who dreamed of shitting gold
It's all I have to say
It's my only hope
It's the whole of my truth
It's the truth worth to be told
Might I tell
And fortunes unfold
May I be instead
Most of all
So carve it in rock
And let it be known
Here stands the asshole
Who dreamed of shitting gold
Here stands the asshole
Who dreamed of shitting gold
Here stands the asshole
Who dreamed of shitting gold
Here stands the asshole
Who dreamed of shitting gold
In which I am joined by Eliot. He wants to start a 90s cover band, but neither of us sing. The set list is epic ... if we can ever learn all the songs. Or find a vocalist.
Grab me by the throat. Your hands are freezing cold
And fingernails tear nice and slow. You know
I'm not afraid of all the things you think about
When you're alone swallowing your day
Hold on tight. Just hold on tight
Cataclysmic prose. Eye sockets will erode
When days to weeks to months seem half full
Yet I can't impose with another wilted rose
You'll feel this when you see how I've grown
We are broken men
Who shouldn't be saved just yet
Keep breathing. Stay broken
Our blood's boiled thin
You can taste it with every breath taken in
It's 2:30 AM. Years become layers of skin
I've shed them all but I'm not done yet
Heavy hearts my friends, come sing in unison
And drag me out of this hole I'm in
We are broken men
Who shouldn't be saved just yet
Keep breathing. Stay broken
Our blood's boiled thin
You can taste it with every breath taken in
Are you breathing?
Stay broken
I've earned my bitterness
My legs are planted firm in transit-stance
For this dead romance
Grab me by the throat. Your hands are freezing cold
And fingernails tear nice and slow. You know
I'm not afraid of all the things you think about
When you're alone swallowing your whole...
We are broken men
Who shouldn't be saved just yet
Keep breathing. Stay broken
Our blood's boiled thin
You can taste it with every breath taken in
I happened across an old recording of this drum pattern I'd written for basement audio lab. It was a crappy demo version consisting of me tapping on my legs and kicking the mic stand. It was virtually unlistenable, with a horrendous click track going in the background. I was surprised to find the pattern came much more naturally to me this time around, and the click was not necessary. I just wanted to make a better recording of the part for future reference. I don't know what prog rock band I'm going to join someday that will have a need for a part in 7/8 time, but you never know. When the time comes, I guess I'll have this to contribute.
Doing fills in 7 is hard. It's not a natural thing to feel when you were raised on groups of 2 and 4. Most people understand 3, I guess. Waltzes and such. Sometimes you'll hear radio stuff in 6 (which is really just 2 groups of 3, or 3 groups of 2, depending). 5 and 7 are a lot trickier, since you're mashing a 2 and a 3, or a 4 and a 3, or 2 twos and a 3 together at once. Makes it harder to find the downbeat. Actually, what I really like to do is carry it over 2 measures, then the "down" beat becomes the "up" beat for the second measure, before it turns back around again.
I went to the KCCC meeting tonight
They were having elections. I am now officially Trustee #3 on the Board of Directors. Which is mostly an honorary title, but it was nice of them to include me.
I decided to celebrate at a place down the road ... with a poke bowl:
After much deliberation, names were left un-bleeped. If we talk about you and you want your name bleeped, please forward your bleeping requests to: complaints@spud.com
