I got a new phone today. It took most of the afternoon to iron out all the kinks, and most of my passwords are still messed up. (I did upgrade by almost six versions of my phone, and I think this one is just too fancy for my old data.)

Whatever. It’s just a phone. But those pictures are pretty dope…

We have a “smart thermostat.”

Apparently, it automatically switched over from “AC / cooling mode” to “eco / heating mode” last night.

At first I was impressed. But I’m not sure how I feel about loosing the, “how long can you wait?” heating challenge because a computer decided it was time.

I’m not worried that they will rise up and kill me. I’m worried they’ll make me look bad in front of the Internet.

Day 4:

Finding people you relate to in the number one mission for someone in their teens, but as you graduate and have to navigate the larger world around you, it becomes harder to find people who you can connect with. Some of that is practical; jobs and homes and regular life is very complicated, and for everyone. Soon enough, the people we know are already into their own thing, and as we all explore our interests, finding the edges where these things overlap can be difficult.

It was at this point in my own life and with this kind of mental state that I was casting about for something to read. A young man, in a big city (Portland), where I knew almost no one, and yet, did know that I loved one thing with an almost obsessive passion: records. And as you read reviews and start to collect, a certain name begins to pop up, over and over again.

So by the time I picked up a copy of the improbably named and yet brilliantly titled, “Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung,” by Lester Bangs, I was fairly certain that, if nothing else, I was going to get a sort of shopping list of stuff that I should check out, which was enough for me to give it a shot.

What I was not prepared for was to read, to my mind, a collection of the best American Literature I have ever encountered in any form. And, to paraphrase Greil Marcus, why couldn’t the best thing ever written be a Lou Reed record review?

So, before I continue to stroke his long-dead ego, let’s be clear about something that the critics often overlook: Lester was opinionated, loud-mouthed, often wrong, belligerent when confronted about what he got wrong, and not always pleasant to be around, and that’s after he’d cleaned himself up and put on nice clothes and only smoked a little hash instead of his usual intake so he could, “chill himself out.”

By all accounts, he was a very difficult weirdo who burned as many bridges as he supported, took wild and contrary opinions to make arbitrary points, and at times, was problematic and not easy to swallow by modern cultural expectations. I think this is lost in the film portrayals and the romanticizing of a man who died almost 40 years ago. There’s a certain, “well, he was from a different time,” that is applied to him, and perhaps that is for the best. Yet, in a period where many people have been revising history in an attempt to paint a more accurate picture of the past, no one has yet spent the cultural energy to paint Lester with the kind of toxicity that is most definitely embodied in his work, at his worst.

And, while we’re being honest, let’s really cut to the etc.: Lester’s genius that he is often praised for come across, in his own words, like a Drug Punk talking his way out of a tense situation with some Hell’s Angels. While there is brilliance in his writing, certainly Lester was just educated enough to know that he didn’t care about that shit. He spent a career honing his voice as someone who spoke as an expert of the junk culture he wrote about. There was no interest in trying to crack the literary cannon. He wasn’t looking to be taught in colleges, and could probably care less about any kind of intellectual cred that could be gained from commanding the language with finesse. Lester was a lower-class kid from a poor family who never really knew his father, and as a writer, he affected the tone and manner of the slovenly and abrasive people he grew up with as a kid.

And these aren’t exactly his selling points, either. If you read enough Lester, you don’t exactly like him. His output is full of crap, just pure garbage drivel that he clearly wrote in a hurry, to hit a deadline, to make a quick buck, to hope that the scam him and Meltzer and cooked up wouldn’t backfire, and on a long enough timeline, the con man version of Lester is fully on display, using less than half of his writing prowess, at best, to crank out enough words to hit his quota and cash a check. When that version of Lester is around, it’s hard to agree with Marcus’ argument that there is any literary genius in a record review, or ever could be, even.

I say all of this by way of laying down a huge asterisk when I do finally get to my own convoluted point: reading Bangs is like having a drunken bar chat with your best friend about records, and all the comedy / tragedy / shaggy dog stories / hyperbole / excitement / despair / loathing / anger / joy and libidinal rage that comes with that kind of conversation. Regardless of any shortcomings that Lester may have had and may have suffered from, he could grab your ear, split a ‘lude with you and actually make the case for “White Light / White Heat” as being the best piece of 20th Century art ever produced. And he would be right. Because, in that context, in that moment, in that circumstance, he was king, his opinion was gold, and only he could say it in a way that everyone could feel in their heart and their loins was absolutely true.

In that moment, anyway.

Lester is all contradictions, and as you read him, he changes his opinions on a dime, and says something so out of character next to something so 100% what you expect of him that the only Lester I see anymore is actually an empty vessel, onto which I project so much of my own experience. I often have to take a step back and remind myself that, even having read as much of his written output as I can find, I am still no closer to knowing him at all. The person I know is someone I meet occasionally, drunk, at some club, and instead of watching the girls dance, we talk about the Buzzcocks for an hour. That’s the person I know. So when I read about how he lived, what he was like, and who he was, I’m a bit puzzled. It doesn’t sound like the man I know.

It’s that relationship with Lester that opened my mind to other relationships you can have with the written word. Lester loved music so much he was sure you could write about it, and have the text FEEL like the music it was about. Is that possible? Who knows. Can you water polo about classical paintings, as they say?

Well, Lester fuckin’ did, even when it was sloppy and incomplete and meandering and didn’t really get to the point.

But when he did… those moments of sublime text all working in concert like a good rhythm section, to help propel the narrative like some driving guitar riff…

When he’s firing on all cylinders, it IS as good at The Who at their best.

(And, don’t tell him this, because it’ll swell his ego needlessly, but: probably even better.)

This time of year, we are always looking to put a little more spook in our diet. So if you’re like us, then we also recommend you pick up, “The Ways of Ghosts by Ambrose Bierce,” a collection of ghost stories read by Austin Rich.

With sound effects and bonus material for both the physical and digital releases, this spoken word album is the perfect item to help pass a dark and stormy night in the fall, and makes a unique gift for the right friend in your life.

“The Ways of Ghosts by Ambrose Bierce.” Another frightfully good product for the Holiday Season.

https://wtbc.bandcamp.com/album/the-ways-of-ghosts-by-ambrose-bierce

And, if you tend to live outside the Apple way of life, and need a “podcast agnostic” feed, this one will work on any podcasting device or app. It’s just another way for you to enjoy the show!

http://feeds.feedburner.com/AustinsHalloweenSpook-tacular

Day 3:

Moving from a small town to Eugene was an eye-opening and life-changing experience, and I met more people who have influenced me during those years than almost anywhere else. It’s where I learned to keep a job, keep an apartment, and make close friends. And these friends all introduced me to books.

There was certainly a bit of a cliché for us to get into him, and even moreso in my early 20s. But instead of falling in love with his most well known work, when I first read, “In Watermelon Sugar,” by Richard Brautigan, something unlocked for me that felt like a major discovery, one that I continue to unpack to this day.

Trying to explain what a Brautigan book is about is like trying to explain what a David Lynch movie is about: in many ways, that’s the wrong approach to the text. Brautigan paints word pictures, uses sentences and paragraphs like visual arrangements, where there is as much design aesthetics at work as there is narrative. But this suggests an incoherence in favor of imagery that is not the case; moments and scenes from this book are more vivid to me than others that rival William Burroughs or Thomas Pynchon, and there is a story at the heart of all Brautigans, and it all hangs together in the end. Lest you think his novels border on a more hippie-infused book of Carrol-influenced nonsense poetry. Brautigan always has something to tell you, and even in a straightforward manner, if you will.

But… I’m not sure if that was anything more to him than a symptom of creating a Brautigan text. Reading his books feels like you aren’t just getting a behind-the-scenes view of the “story” he’s telling you, which is a feature of his almost-meta-but-not-precisely-so casual form of his prose. (He saves his truly meta moments for staring at the reader from him own front covers.) He is certainly cultivating a form of prose that is intentionally going against nearly all text conventions, but almost in a way that a hillbilly from the woods named Renegade, all hopped up on moonshine and homegrown weed, would choose to write a novel. I think no one was as surprised as Brautigan himself when he would finish and a story would lurk beneath the finished product, if one dug in enough.

Brautigan’s text feels more like a window into his mind than many of his beat-peers were able to accomplish, and he evokes more common ground with Borges & Calvino than Kerouac & Ginsberg. Through his plain-spoken, rural-infused magical realism, Brautigan captures the internal life of a Pacific Northwestern person that I am often led to an uncanny sensation while reading him. There is this sense that he is reflecting my own experiences in his text, and that he was also a new friend I was meeting between punk shows and zine meet-ups.

But I have never lived in watermelon sugar, and I cannot tell you of the deeds done and done again as my life is done in watermelon sugar. What I can tell you is that I cannot thank Sierra enough for helping me find the keystone to the voice I’m desperately trying to forge for myself. I’ve re-read this book to the point where I almost don’t see the text anymore, but merely the design and typesetting choices. And in the end, I think that’s what Brautigan was going for: to ask a reader to live inside these books so completely that you eventually can see through the same eyes he’s staring at you from on the cover.

The world was different 8 years ago.

What did he forget this time?

Day 2:

Once you find your community, both jokes and books spread pretty quickly through that group. Finding I liked Sci-Fi when I grew up meant you were hanging out with the nerdy kids, and at my school, a number of books made the rounds among my friends as we all grew up.

Soon I pieced together that a number of the jokes also making the rounds in my social circle were actually all from one book: The Hitchhiker’s guide to The Galaxy. Comedy was my other great love. I had to read something that was as funny as my friends made it out to be.

When it was my turn I took the book home and began reading it immediately, and spent almost the entire night finishing in a frenzy. I had never read anything as funny as this, and it was smart, and it was… almost impossible to explain to anyone.

I became immediately obsessed, and devoured anything with Douglas Adams name on it. His turn of phrase and density of jokes was impressive, and I still find myself trying hard to not to steal his jokes after all this time.

And, he was woke, in a way I didn’t realize then but have come to appreciate as I have aged. He was an atheist when it was unpopular, progressive when his peers weren’t, and worried about the environment decades before the average person did. His curiosity and love of the world at its best, and his sensitivity and anxiety regarding humanity at its worst, was something that spoke to me deeply, and has set me on the path I walk now.

Sci-Fi opened the door for me, but if there was a reason I pitched a tent inside that door and stayed within the world of reading, it was as much for the love of well-told jokes as it was for Sci-Fi ideas.

But if I’m super honest, I’m mostly trying to find someone as clever as Douglas Adams.

“How did you get here? You just popped out of nowhere like a disconcertingly large drinks bill.” – Zaphod Beeblebrox

Book-A-Day Meme. But I am gonna give a review, and I won’t invite new people to the chain letter.

Day 1: I grew up in my mom’s bookstore, but in spite of that, I mostly just listened to George Carlin records and read old Silver and Bronze Age comics. But my love of Sci-Fi movies, and this film in particular as a kid, led to me reading this book.

And I loved it. I mean, the book was based on the film, so unlike most adaptations, this read perfectly to me. And it even filled in plot that felt important to me as s kid.

Most importantly, this book introduced me to the Movie Adaptations section of our library, where I went on a novelization-of-the-film kick, and eventually, fell in love with reading, too. But it was this movie, and the book version of it, that opened my mind to the idea that books were important, and should be explored.

There is a perverse part of me that wonders how Yakov Smirnoff’s big comeback is fairing with all this recent “news.”
https://www.npr.org/2019/09/27/764879242/nra-was-foreign-asset-to-russia-ahead-of-2016-new-senate-report-reveals?utm_source=facebook.com

All the other states in the US be like:

This is big news.
https://www.problemistreturns.com/

NorCal NoiseFest is one week away, and as we all try to finish our final preparations for this extravaganza, here’s a playlist featuring artists who will be playing this year on Spotify! Because we now live in the future.

Hear music by JUICE MACHINE, Monte Cazazza, Don Haugen, Crank Sturgeon and Mini-Mutations, among many others! All of us are playing the fest, and you can enjoy our music from this convenient digital service.

Mini-Mutations plays on day 1, in the second-to-last slot. (Norcal Noisefest 23 – Day 1.) If you live in Sacramento, perhaps I’ll see you there?

I see.

When all else fails, start making ‘zines.

What if everything we communicated in any form only meant exactly what it seems on the surface, and nothing more?

It’s a brilliant retirement plan.

Verhalten, Dark Fjord & Mini-Mutations live at Graveyard Bar. What an excellent evening! Thanks everyone who made it happen.

I sometimes wonder if the world would be better if this was still on the air.

(Spotify is funny.)

A great interview with Arvo Zylo, where he kindly mentions Mini-Mutations, among many other things.
https://fortheloveofnoise.com/2019/01/29/interview-with-label-owner-and-artist-arvo-zylo/

Oh look! Apparently Mini-Mutations is on Spotify. Huh…

Mini-Mutations is in good company…

How do you provide enough context?

How do you give the proper insight?

Can you be someone’s enemy and still be a good person?

Do you need to apologize in every situation where someone feels wronged?

I mean, you could go with that garbage shredded cheese like some sort of monster, or you could class the fuck up, and get yourself something “fancy cut.”

My nephew came over and borrowed my Sonic Youth, Clash, They Might Be Giants and Weezer CDs to listen to in his car.

The kids grow up so fast, don’t they?

‘Merica just gotta be ‘Merica.

The Buttfrenchers at Graveyard Bar on 20 September 2019.

Speed Pigs at Graveyard Bar on 20 September 2019.

I believe DJ Marshmellow’s next gig is on Halloween. I looked into the future and saw this picture of Marla from that night.

I was talking to David Warmbier last night, and he was telling me about a loose “network” of houses that volunteer to host acoustic / singer songwriter acts, in an effort to help offer more spaces for touring artists to play. It’s sort of like “registering” your house-venue with a network, so like-minded artists can book a tour and avoid conventional spaces.

I am in love with this idea of an experimental network like this, and I’m wondering if others have ever used a network / group / organization like this, and what the experience was like. Pros? Cons? How would something like this take shape? Does it already exist for experimental music and I’m out of the loop?

Can we create something like this?

I came back.

But only for the dog.

(Thanks again, Devin & Rachel, in absentia.)

I played a very unique house show last night for Ellen Klowden’s birthday, which included some of my favorite Eugene noisemakers, and a few firsts. It was a cassette release party for Bast Awakening & DEATH MUTATIONS, and the star of the show, Chris Gierig, played no fewer than three sets! I played two, and it was the first public performances for Bast Awakening and DEATH MUTATIONS. We also had [view] & JUICE MACHINE, a Mini-Mutations weather report, and I got to meet David Warmbier, the host of the “Institute of Spectra-Sonic Sound” podcast. Such a cool night! Streaming videos are still up, over at Mid-Valley Mutations! Enjoy!

I am very happy to announce the newest WTBC Release that will help you through the Fall Season: the Bast Awakening / DEATH MUTATIONS Split Cassette!

Bast Awakening is: Ellen Klowden & Chris Gierig.
DEATH MUTATIONS is: I Died & Mini-Mutations.

This C20 release comes in a limited edition of 79, with reversible covers and art by Teagan Rhys White. This cassette was designed by Austin Rich, and comes with full color, hand-cut insets, over an hour of bonus downloads not available anywhere else, and a mini-zine about the release.

You can order the cassette now, or pick one up at the Bast Awakening & Death Mutations tape release house show happening tonight in Eugene, OR! This show has a killer line-up, including the first public appearance of DEATH MUTATIONS! Check out Mid-Valley Mutations for streaming live video!

Bast Awakening & DEATH MUTATIONS. Let’s worry about the future, TODAY!
https://wtbc.bandcamp.com/album/bast-awakening-death-mutations-split-tape

As an unapologetic Dinosaur Jr. nerd, this is fascinating. Any tid-bit about them is always something I can dig into. Green Mind is great, but the Where You Been reissue has me excited.
https://dangerousminds.net/comments/dinosaur_jr_drama_derails_group_but_band_bounces_back_with_classic_lp_green

Thank you so much, Rachel Miller!

For the first time in my life I uttered the phrase, “can I borrow the car?”

Marla got so excited she poured a glass of wine and put on PJs.

Transferring files over a network can be fun. I particularly love getting the “about an hour” time remaining message for two or three hours, solid.

My zine game just got better. Marla found this at a thrift store for a couple bucks, and had it sharpened at the repair fair for free! It works pretty good for the price! Thanks.

Yesterday I got into a car and drove, by myself, for the first time in my life. After years of being scared of driving, I’m now a licensed driver.

I’m not sure the full impact has hit me. I didn’t drive anywhere particularly strange, and I’m not good at it yet. But I can do it, no one honks at me, and I get there eventually. So, that’s the important part, right?

There’s a part of me that wishes I was having some sort of Springsteen-esque epiphany about how my loins and my wanderlust were somehow hopelessly entwined and I needed a hemi in New Jersey to sort that out. But it is hard to muster that feeling when you’re looking for parking and missing your turns constantly.

Errands hardly capture the teenage ego-unleashed-in-four-wheeled-fury! There is certainly more Mr. Roger’s in my driving style than there is Blues Brothers, and while I appreciate the incredible opportunities driving will now afford me, another part of me sees that 99 times out of 100 I’ll be making emergency runs to the store for coffee than I will be exploring my freedom as I search to, “ride eternal, shiny and chrome.”

And this is part of the problem: I’m not a car guy. I never was. My entire relationship with cars is from popular culture, and as I drive I can’t help but feel like Xander in, “The Zeppo,” where, in a desperate search for identity, he posits the notion that, well, maybe he’s a car guy? (Later, of course, he is not really seen driving again in the show.)

Not that I need to be a car guy to drive. But I can already predict the dollar signs in the eyes of any mechanic I visit, as they can tell within moments that I spent my time troubleshooting radio gear and arguing about Slint records rather than learning about car engines.

Nevertheless, I did get a twinge of excitement the moment I decided to add an unscheduled stop to my errands. The idea of being alone, without anyone knowing where I was, to go about my day and to see where I wind up and to be able to just go without any holdups. That does sound a little appealing.

I have spent my whole life as a passenger. Dependent on public transportation for commuting, and walking for everything else. Travel is hard, going out is not exactly easy, and I’m always the one who needs to spend far more time planning the trip because I need to make arrangements. My wife… has been tolerant, for someone who has done all of the driving for almost a decade. I know she is going to be excited to never need to pick me up from a show at 2 AM again as long as we are married.

Just the idea that I don’t have to ever beg for a ride home again is mentally exciting in a way that “autonomy” doesn’t fully capture. What does the future hold? Who can say?

So, I’m trying to be practical, yet positive, about what this really means.

And: I’m ready to drive!

I’m not sure I’m ready for a 12-Hour epic road trip at the end of which we all play a show and party all night.

But I am totally ready to meet up and offer you a ride, this time.

Because I probably owe you, and I really want to see where you’ll take me.

My version of the meme.

With the “sex in driverless cars” story, how long before Tindr & Uber are the same app?

What was / is your dream car? Was it different as a kid than it is now?

You know those jams from your youth that really meant something?

I do like the unique look of this one, but I’m not sure I can nail the song every time I need to pop down to the store for some grub.

Hmmm. This one’s listed as a “smart car.” Is that worth it? The higher sticker price seems a bit much.

It goes without saying: you should book me for a show in your town.

Because I can actually get there on my own.

Passed my driving test this morning, and terrified my wife with my driving on the way home. Went to go fill out boring paperwork but had an excellent conversation about my new job with my new boss, and I really like the vibe. Ran a ton of errands… on my own! For the first time! Got to see Jocelyn, Daniel & Snarfy making the rounds, and I wrapped up a section of a new project that needed to be finished.

I’m… exhausted.

Can HAZ eyes? ♥

♫
“Cause I’m as free as a bird now
And this bird you can not chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaain……….”
♫

For Luck.

“I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.”

So far, this record delivers 150% on the promise.

Okay, so:

Not your favorite show, or Star Trek.

But: your third favorite? What’s that one?

A lot of cool things suddenly came together this week and it feels like the season really did change, quickly.

I’m pretty excited.

My neighbors paid a gardening service on the windiest day of the year to have someone run a leaf blower all around their driveway and patio.

And I had to cry for a few minutes about the future of humanity.

This page never disappoints, but holy shit!

I received this excellent care package from John Staley and Green Camel Press! Thank you! Can’t wait to dig in. I’ve been meaning to check out your podcasts, so maybe now is the time?

Against my better judgment, I took a part time big-boy jobby job recently, and last night was my first night. I hate the idea of filling out paperwork and following rules, but I actually got offered money in exchange for a real skill that I have, and it felt like I should take this opportunity while I can, as that hasn’t really happened before.

I mean, I have had it exploited and have been asked to do it for free and only occasionally have I ever been compensated for using this skill, as it is adjacent to art and paying artists is akin to doing a good deed. So I have only ever rarely been paid for skills I honed, and more often, I have been paid to do grunt work, or to be a warm body in case someone wants to talk to a real person.

So I’m still a little worried someone will tell me that it’s a joke and I won’t get to see where this goes.

Fingers crossed?

43 > 30.

TURNS OUT.

Silence in The Snow is just starting! This is exciting! Come on down!

Cold Static at Graveyard Bar right now! Come on down!

Shhhhhhhh.

Listen.

Isn’t that nice?

Recording radio bits with Emma. Zine Club with Jessica & Marina. Watching a play with Marla & Jill featuring Kat. Live Jams with Scott and Kevin. Live radio with Mick on KMUZ.

Not a bad Friday the 13th / Harvest Moon Weekend. Now to tend to my new plant…

When you see someone do something and you wish you were the one doing it and now are wondering why not.

Oh man, this is still so good.

I DIG THE BLACK GIRLS

I Dig The Black Girls.

Sigh. It’s on point.

The music in The Great British Bake Off is like stressful Christmas music.

RIP Johnny Dollar. I’ve always enjoyed your stories, and you were the best insurance investiga…

Who? Eddie Money?

Uh, I got nothin’. See, I’m broke.

Nevermind…

And so it begins. Tomorrow marks the evening that there are no less than four events that I desperately want to attend that are all happening simultaneously. I already missed both Melvins/Red Kross and Squeeze/X, both on the same night earlier this week. I’m playing a show the night Mark Hosler is playing Portland, and now I believe every weekend for the rest of the year could easily be double booked and I would still miss as much (or more) excellent things that are also happening.

And this doesn’t even account for the financial issue at play.

People often ask why I didn’t do a thing, go out, or otherwise engage in some event. The short answer: there are as many other things you missed by doing your thing, and you’re upset I missed something else?

It’s hard to explain. How do I say that something was important, so I did it?

I put my third thing on my calendar for January already, and I’m looking at February, too. I don’t have the ability to suddenly just “do a thing” when money and tickets and commitments are on the line.

But, humorously, I have a lot of free time. Just not when any exciting shows are happening.

Can someone start booking 10 AM events on Monday through Wednesday? I’m always free then.

I guess Biden and I have a lot in common: we both love Radio & Records.

So, which candidate up there didn’t say, “I’m the only candidate up here…” ?

One hour in, and the best comment so far is now from Warren about fixing Congress. Seems like it took us a while to get there…

(Well, Pete’s comment about why debates suck was pretty righteous.)

#debatelife

There was a time where I listened to the “Hi, How Are You? / Continued Story” CD every day, for what seemed like years and years on end. I spent countless hours tracking down his tapes, and trying to learn his songs. It spoke to me in some weird way that those of us aimless wanderers in the 90s took to heart.

I saw him several times, occasionally perplexing, occasionally astounding, but never like any other performer I’ve ever seen.

I was such a nerd that I accosted Jeff Feuerzeig at his hotel (while he was sick) so I could talk about Daniel.

https://blasphuphmusradio.wordpress.com/2006/03/28/jeff-feuerzeig/

I mean, some part of me knew this was coming.

But really, it doesn’t make it hurt less.

Goodbye, Daniel. I’ll miss you.

Oh no! The truth!

Happy Birthday you wonderful weirdo.

That was exciting weather, for sure.

I’ve never been sure what LMAO actually meant, so I checked.

It was a little disappointing, tbh.

Mini-Mutations & The Reverend Marc Time jam LIVE over an ELP song on The Sunday Morning Hangover, originally aired on KWVA in Eugene, OR!

What I Learned Recently:

I assumed that everyone I ever met had a bad experience in school growing up, and that, in spite of all the feeling like I have nothing in common with most people, that at least we hated School with the same kind of passion.

However: this turns out not to be true.

And now I have to rethink the one assumption that I spent most of my life fairly certain I was right about.

Huh.

Another summer rolls by
And I can’t help but feel pain
All those familiar faces
Come back to haunt me again
Whether I hated their guts
Or hardly knew them at all
I always felt far away
Beside them there in the halls.

My yearbook keeps me informed
My yearbook keeps me in line
Its an obituary
Gives me a concept of time
We’ve graduated and grown
From a real world once our own
Yet we have proven them wrong
By dropping off all along

It’s that time of the year: I’m flat broke. I don’t have a penny and I’m sort of in the lurch, so if I could sell a few items soon, that would really help.

Not only do you get the excellent free radio show every week, but if you buy something fun, you get additional art not on the show, and help keep me solvent. Seriously: I have no money until I sell something. Maybe you wanna lend a hand?

Thanks in advance. I appreciate the love.

https://wtbc.bandcamp.com

Tell me about yourself. I’m curious. What are you working on? I’m reading a Love & Rockets comic. I’m “between shows,” but I’ve got some music stuff I’m working on. You?

This should keep me busy for a while.

You know how all of us creative folks like to pretend our vices are a necessary part of our process?

So. Funny story. Turns out we’re kinda right?

Ha ha! Drink up!

http://observer.com/2012/04/bottoms-up-the-ballmer-peak-is-real-study-says/