The Game that Nobody Understands Game

The quote on the back of the Tom Robbins book:

"Still Life with Woodpecker is sort of a love story that takes place inside a pack of Camel cigarettes. It reveals the purpose of the moon, explains the difference between criminals and outlaws, examines the conflict between social activism and romantic individualism, and paints a portrait of contemporary society that includes powerful Arabs, exiled royalty, and pregnant cheerleaders. It also deals with the problem of redheads."

(The main characters are an exiled princess and a serial bomber.)

Let go of the headlight and love me instead..

As luck would have it, the Candy Butchers (my third post in this thread mentioning them!) are playing a show fairly close to me within the coming days. Unfortunately, I will be out of town then, but I might be able to catch them in another part of the country, if everything works out.

That sounds like a very interesting book... would you recommend it?

What a shame! Are they playing many venues?

I hope that I get to at least three Beck concerts on the next tour... one never knows what he is going to pull out.

Now for something completely random.

What do I hate more than terrorism or boomboxing? Moths.

It all started when I found a moth in a glass of orange juice, and disintegrated from there. They are almost as bad as beetles. Awful things. Last night, four moths became caught in my hair. As you can tell, I had four showers because of them.

(The book is quite good, was recommended quite highly to me by a friend, and has earned my endoresement as well.)

(They aren't playing very many venues, but I think that I can still attend a show, somehow.)

I had an interesting little idea to write about, but I lost it in my unfocused mind. I used to scribble down every idea that I had, but my pen has gone basically unused for a good deal of time now. It was given to me by a friend in Germany and came in a fancy case--one of those expensive pens you hardly want to use because it desires to write something monumental, not mundane. I need to get a more practical pen.

(You really SHOULD get another pen.)

the 'cure' for moths is a magnifying glass; in detail they are most beautiful!

I remember acting on a film called 'Protein Summer,' which my late, great friend Avianna Capricia wrote of a random, silly idea that I mentioned en passant. I played the lead character, Ven, who decided to hoarde together a lot of misfits to make a scam version of the bible's missing chapters. The film was a hoot, although the character was a bad caricature of me. I offered advice to Avianna but she was too strong-headed to listen; the only things that she took from me were the basic idea, and the name 'Protein Summer.'

She was an unusual creature, indeed. She changed her name at the age of sixteen, left to the West End, tried to get into acting, and played the role of Helena from 'All's well that ends well' badly. She thought that she would get into theatre one way or another. She wrote one play before she died, called 'Old Dulce Jar', which had a character who just rambled about in the midst of the action, doing nothing. She was very much like that character.

Alas, when they buzz around my hair, they are not.

they are attracted to 'light'; that should be a bit of a consolation!

(dròm, you are amazing.)

This epic album starts with a recording of a phone ringing, one of the popular noises to use in music nowadays, along with car engines, muffled whispers, police sirens, and atmospheric occurances. This particular sound, though, is an exact replica of the phone sitting on my desk; they must be the same model. As I press the button on my stereo and here this ringing starting from nothing, I am fooled everytime into thinking that someone is calling. I was able to become quickly accustomed to hearing sirens in songs, though, and the timing was never difficult to learn. Yet, this phone ringing always tricks me when I am in my room (in my car, of course, I am not fooled, since I am not expecting the phone from my desk to be there with me).

Anyway, it's a pretty imposing and oddly-shaped phone: a decent choice to begin such a record, I suppose.

! That's a lovely compliment. My hair apologises to the moths for my ingratitude.

Licht sein,
Licht sein
Wie Seesalz
Wie Seesalz...
Licht sein
Licht sein
In die Luft gehen
In die Fruchtdose gehen
Licht sein
Licht sein
Eine Geisel nicht sein
In der zertrümmerten
In der zertrümmerten
Ansicht der Sterne nicht.

That was an interesting observation, Smog. Do they sample lots in their tracks?





Really?

(Water, footsteps, screams, wind, machines, and more. Yes, this band likes their samples.)


(Yep. That story...)

"Think of all the things you did before
Write them in a letter that says reborn"

(O, then they're like someone about whom I say too much and too often! Do many people appreciate them?)

(Thank you. To tell the truth to you, I was trying to think of something slightly interesting of the past to write of, so as not to lag behind you :-D.)

Gently rub the moose.

Chocolate mousse, i hope.

and to what avail the 'rubbing'!

That's the name of an awful band, who try to be like Nickelback... . I do wonder why they are so fixed on rubbing mo(u)sse?