This post is Floyd-free

~ Got my days off after all.

My boss asked what my plans were and I said, “Nuthin’. Sleep for two days.” Then he looked at me skeptically and I said, “I’m burnt-out. I can’t be creative. I need time off to recharge so I can do this job.” And he said, “Oh, I didn’t know you were burnt-out. You talk so much. You’re so lively.”

Daaaaamn. 

~ Second practice of the as yet unnamed  Mel / Jake duo went well. Recorded some ideas. Definitely slow and dark as molasses. Apparently we’ve already gotten gig offers.

~ Stephen ate a crumb from Dan‘s devil-cookies and is now entirely fucked up.  He’s lost the power of speech. It’s really rather hilarious.

Food! Friends! Monday!

Game over

~ Thanks to everyone who came to the final games night (and all the other nights too)! Especially you Matt!

Nonce

~ I think I’m going to let spam email write my lyrics for me from now on:

“proverb is the abstracter.
robin you may cotyledon garrulous.
rosary or nonce. victim is the tacky alewife.” 

How rad is that?

~ I don’t think I’m getting those days off I was promised. Hrrrm…

~ I know I have to stop blogging about Pink Floyd, but Atom Heart Mother… my heart is atomizing as I listen to it. AMG called it “unfocused” and “impenetrable.” I suppose it might seem that way to people who lack ears to hear and a heart to feel with. There’s even a Star Trek “ooh-woo-woo” choir going on underneath it all. I mean, goddamn, I may start to weep in a minute. Gilmour just kicked in with a harmonized guitar solo. And now the choir’s back, Mason‘s laying down a heavy ride beat you might expect Tricky to sample, and now a huge operatic crescendo of an ending. Great Caesar’s ghost that was amazing. 

~ The new Tragically Hip single sounds like Arcade Fire. How hip, how tragic…

~ I just noticed that on my Flickr some random dude has favourited one of my self-portraits. Not sure how I feel about that… but I’m pretty sure it’s creepy.

Nerdery

~ I’m willing to take some heat for this… But Syd Barrett was kind of a hack. Without Waters and Wright, he’d have been nothing. This flies in the face of everything I once believed about the Floyd. Things I believed as a result of  reading Rolling Stone archives for a “popular culture report” I did on Floyd for grade 8 social studies. I am now firmly of the oppinion that his god-like status in the annals of rock  is due to a) him being insane — ergo brilliant by popular logic —  and b) being a sexy mo-fo.  I think Waters gets cast as the weaselly usurper who kicked Barrett out of the band for his own egotistical ends is due to a) actually looking like a weasel and b) writing bloated rock operas about his daddy dying in the war.

~  Why didn’t anyone tell me that Jefferson Airplane are the bomb? Holy crap, albums 3 and 4. Holy crap. That’s all I say at this point.

5: Final games nite of the summer

~  Yesterday I shocked and, I assume, angered Ken by purchasing the entire early (pre-Dark Side) Floyd catalogue because they were all on sale cheap at A&B. He made various comments I was able to ignore due to his current Rush obsession.  I think Jamie was probably a little surprised too when I asked her where all the Floyd went and she said, “Here on this sale rack” and I started loading up my arms like I was looting bread and canned goods in a post-Katrina New Orleans superette.

I remembered too late that I wanted some Jefferson Airplane too.

~  Space-rock band is reconvening on… September 11th. At least for that practice we’ll be called Airplanes Flying Into Buildings. Though perhaps better than some others we’ve performed under, Erin pointed out it’s still a really bad name. I hope somebody finds us a usable moniker sometime.

~ Played poker and it was rad. I won a million dollars. And about 5 shots. The shots made Rush’s “Closer To The Heart” on repeat sound really amazing.

~ It was a sketchy scene at the Cambie last night. No lie, it was sketchy. We were promised beforehand that this band Whitey were not  white supremacists and the first thing I saw when we got there were several skinheads. Then a whole lot of wallet-chains. Kristjanne got a tray of alcohol poured on her head. Then Lauren and I ran hand-in-hand all the way to 70 Below where we saw Jessica Drama who gave us a detailed story about how she destroyed her wrist at work. 

~ 6 days of drinking left. I’m hung-over a little and smell bad a lot. Time to listen to Floyd and soak in the bath.