Good, 'cause we've been blasting the new OM record at teutonic levels. And the Black Lips latest. And Mike Jones, Screwed and Chopped by Micheal "5000" Watts. Swisha House! 10% Sleep 90% Grind. You know how we do.
Aborted DJ session at Tuman's last night. Total equipment failure on turntable #2. Thought about doing the Victrola-style DJ set (a rowdy, filled to capacity house party equipment failure strategy previously employed with some modicum of success), but quickly realized foolishness and let the bartender's iPod rule the night (and play the same Cars song a few times). Fuck it, we still got paid. Bitches! Only track actually played: our traditional opener, Thin Lizzy's "Soldier of Fortune".
No more stitches. Wham! Gone. Now we have these little paper things that look kind of cool, but not really bad-ass. Level of interest from Ukranian lovlies towards your host rapidly tailing off.
Should we get started on Moby Dick again? We're feeling the old tug. Four times now we've been lashed to the white whale since high school, and this would make our fifth voyage on the Pequod. It's our favorite book ever, you know. Things might get a little nautical around here for a while, but we know you can deal. Cali and Betsy's book schedule makes us feel like maybe we can push ourselves a bit, and book club failures in the past month or two has us licking our wounds. Time to represent represent! Call me Rakim!
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2 comments:
Seriously Miles. I just this week slowed down on the Black Lips record and am at this very moment cranking that OM record. It's perfect. Holy crap.
I started re-reading Moby-Dick not long ago, but put it down and picked up Zola's Germinal (all about the shitty lives of 19th century French coal miners) instead. Gonna follow that up with Dostoevsky's Demons. It's all about the 19th century novels, baby. Fuck these living writers.
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