20 August, 2012

I haven't drawn at the bar in a while.

So I picked it back up for the fuck of it. I'm a little rusty now, not as bad as I had been, though. I got the idea to draw a Gibson Girl figure because, fuck it, I'd never done that. Then I put a Mosrite Mark II (the Johnny Ramone guitar) in her hands because lately I've got a hard on for the Eastwood Mach Two which is basically a replica of the Mosrite and I'm trying to force myself to not buy one. I'm not saying that I've had some financial windfall, nor have I gotten a raise or a different job or anything, I'm just saying that, in another week or two, I'm going to, thanks to being thrifty as shit for the past six maybe seven years, be in a slightly more comfortable financial situation than what I've been in. And now I just want to buy toys.
Anyway, this one needs a little detail work but it's still what I do best: Women playing guitars.

Saturday night's dinner.

That was an improvised chicken a l'orange. I didn't have any solid dinner plans and I made up my mind as to what to make on my way to the Bow on Saturday morning.
They had a sale on chicken at the Bow - ½ off - so I was able to pick up a six pound bird for something stupid like five and a half beans. I needed the bigger bird because, well, basically, I needed something with an asshole large enough to accommodate the orange and those three and a half pounders can barely champ a half an onion.
I peeled two navel oranges and split them each in half, putting the first half up the chicken's butt (I know it's not the butt but it's just funnier to talk about putting things up butts.) (Don't tell me that you don't get a little laugh when you talk about putting things up butts.), followed that with a quarter of a red onion, some minced garlic, a lime wedge, and then the other half of the first orange. And then I tied the legs together because I had a hankering to turn dinner into a bondage joke.
I put it in the crock and surrounded the bird with slices from the other navel orange and two cloves of garlic. I seasoned the bird with sea salt, mixed fresh ground pepper corns, paprika, mustard powder, about a half dozen sage leaves, then some thyme and oregano and a whole stick of butter.
About three hours later, I juiced two valencia oranges into the crock and turned the bird over to sink the breast meat into the juice.
How did it turn out? Well, it certainly looked pretty. I mean, look at it. And it smelled great, too. But would you believe that after six hours with four oranges - sitting in the juices from two with whole slices sitting on top all the while with one up its ass - it didn't taste like oranges? What kind of happy horse shit was that? It wasn't bad by any means but it wasn't the chicken a l'orange that I had gotten myself all jazzed up over.
So, yeah, sometimes I fail. At least when I fail, I fail photogenically.
I mean, look at it.

Your weekly musicians' ad.

It's been a long time since we had only one. And I'm not going to lie, this one isn't even that good.

Punk Rock (Andover)


Date: 2012-08-19, 10:42AM CDT


No, not pop punk. Thank you. No, not hardcore metal. Well, that wouldn't be punk because, you see, it's metal. You even said it's metal. Definitely not metalcore. I can't keep up with all these "________cores" anymore.

Think back to early AFI. OK. Remember how good that was? No. Maybe think Zebrahead Still haven't gotten around to listening to. or Rancid. Ew, gross. I've got this weird little feeling that the world could use a good dosage of some classic punk mayhem. Because there was a deficiency all of a sudden? So here's the facts. Lay it on me, brother-man.

I play guitar. OK. I have guitar gear, I would hope so. and I can utilize it well enough. So, wait. Was that a roundabout way of saying you can't really play?
If you play drums Nope. or bass, I can. we could have a nice little circus going on here.
If you can sing, That's debatable. even better. I can sing too. But I'd rather do one thing at a time. Was that a roundabout way of saying you can't sing?
Remember though, every single piece of the band is mandatory to create the full effect. I have no idea what this means, yet I agree with it. Thus is the zen of Craigslist.

So. What are we looking at? I don't know, what are you looking at? I don't have a life. Same here. I lack a serious career. Hear that. I want to play music for people. And it's about to get weird in that inflated-sense-of-importance way in three... two... one... We are the true voice of the world, and we can only do that if we give the world a reason to listen. You're asking a bit much from a guy who's only marginally interested in playing bass in a band that plays, well, bullshit.
I want this to be almost entirely about the performance. Here we go. This is where shit's about to get weird. Yes, good music is a necessity, I sense a "but" coming. (That's what she said.) but the live show is what's going to absolutely kill. I need men or women of the highest live performance pedigree. Pedigree?
I will hurt myself on stage if I have to get the audience going. So, you can't play guitar, you can't sing, you just want to get on stage and jump around a lot. Have you thought about just looking for ska bands and doing that thing that one guy from the Mighty Mighty Bosstones did? All he did was skank or whatever the move is where you run in place in time to the music and keep your arms up like you're doing the chicken dance. (Is that skanking?) He didn't play an instrument, he didn't breathe a word of back up vocals, he didn't even technically have choreography. Just the same dance, every time. Skankin' it up. Image is important too. But of course. Look the part.

If you're in, No. hit me up. I'm Xxxx. I'm 19. That explains it! Don't much care how old you are as long as you can fit in and lay off the substances. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Fuck you. Don't need anyone passed out in a puddle of their own piss before a show. Ye of little faith. Know what you're doing. I do. Most importantly, have fun. I do.

I look forward to talking to you. Keep looking forward.
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