Deeper And Deeper In Vein

Tonight was the first full band rehearsal for me after learning six full numbers. (And I mean full: several songs clock in closer to the ten minute mark than the four.) My fingers hurt a little, but I do believe I'm on track to do my first gig with them for their December 5th show.

I hear we also managed to put a man on the moon.

More details soon (about the moon landing too, if anyone out there is confused), but first I have to go meet a hot girl at a neighborhood bar...

Sign Of The Angels

What I wouldn't do for some good ol' fashioned Halo on this chilly afternoon...

Radio Silence

Apologies. I've been too damn sleepy to pick up the microphone these last few days.

For the few moments that I have my finger on the on-button:

Had a second go-round with Deep In Vein. Went well. I seem to be successfully passing myself off as a bassist, despite the fact that I lack a significant low end in real life.

The rhythm section I had hopes for officially fizzled with the arrival of a "dear john" style send-off in my email in-box. It's not a catastrophe; they were good but the surly attitude gave me acid flashbacks of the last group I worked with. Now I go crawling back to Craig and his list. Sigh...

Played another soccer game yesterday. The arctic temperature combined with insufficient warm-up time--combined with my general idiocy about balancing the two--made my left quad go "sproing!" So, no assists, no goals. Fittingly, we ended up at a bar called Antarctica afterward.

Ok, nap time...again. Marlon out.

Who Wants A Piece O' Me? (Updated)

So it seems my social calendar has gotten somewhat crowded of late, and very suddenly at that.

Meet Deep In Vein. I think I just became their new bassist.

On Sunday afternoon, I may or may not discover whether I will have a new rhythm section on whom to inflict my best Clapton impression.

That same evening, I will get to sit with a friend-turned-novelist and discuss his latest opus over what will undoubtedly be several pints of fine bitters.

And tonight, I have a chance at victory on the international field of battle in place of an injured friend.

Of course last, and certainly best: she's there at the end of each of all of them.

I win.

...

Update: Lost the first game, won the second (the team's first win of the season, no less). Scored one goal, had at least two assists. Not bad, all told. Though today my lower half feels like it's being herky-jerkied by an apprentice puppeteer. Ow.

Barcode

Here's a little idea I executed a few months ago. It's taken me rather a while to address the subject, I admit, but sometimes these things require a bit of time to work through. In its physical form, I have it set very small--like a postage stamp--against a much larger white space with matting and frame.

I guess I should count this as my first posting wearing my visual artist's hat. 'Tis a pretty hat, lots of colors and patterns....

Heh.

Best Get My Dashiki Now...

GYWO.

I, for one, welcome our new islamo-haremic overlords...

Holy Crap III: Yakuza

I don't really like gloating. So I'm only going to do a little of it. I have many friends back in Georgia and Florida who vote Republican as loyally as I vote Democrat. I get it. I've understood for a long time that a healthy portion of Party association is anchored in tribal identity. Hell, my friend and I used to argue about the ways we embodied--or didn't--our respective Party ideologies...back in 4th grade...based solely on the fact of our parents' differing affiliations.

This past 4th, my Party won. Big. (See? Only a little bit, just like I said.) I will now endeavor to explain why this happened, in terms so simplistic that I will unapologetically reference the sucking intellectual wound that is a Quentin Tarantino film.

Ahem...

I like the "Kill Bill" movies, in much the same way I like bacon: sometimes you just can't help yourself, even knowing what it's doing to your heart. There's a moment in the first one where Uma Thurman is decimating a small village's worth of underlings in various parts of an upscale restaurant in order to get to Lucy Liu. Suddenly, the lights are cut; the fight proceeds in the dark; as Uma's about to cut down her final opponent the lights snap back on and she realizes that, instead of a warrior deserving of her wrath, she's actually facing a young boy. After breaking his sword, she snatches the wayward child, bends him over her knee, and--using Hattori Hanzo steel--spanks the holy crap out of him while admonishing "This...is what you get...for fucking around...with Yakuza! Go home to your mother!"

That's exactly what happened to the Republican Party two days ago. Just like that young boy, they followed the crazies in their Party into a very bad place. And they got a nasty ass-whooping for it. Here's hoping they finally stop...fucking around...with Yakuza.

Go home to your mother.

Holy Crap II: Obama

Um...

Holy crap.

...

And yes, "holy crap, I really love this woman."

That still holds true.

But, um...

Holy crap!