Way early, but...

...mark your calendars. Write it down in your date-books. Update your blackberries. Or is it blueberries? Whatever. Put this shit in your iphone already. Etch it directly into your forearm, if you are a goth and a cutter. Tie a string around your finger. Don't cut off your circulation. You'll need that. Buy your tickets. There's only a hundred. It comes with a pint of beer. I recommend the English Brown Ale. I just had three of them yesterday. Each one more delicious than the last. I drank them as I talked to a guy who agrees with me that you should come to this show. Listen to him. Listen to me. Listen to us.



Check out some sneak previews if you don't believe it's all that.

Late to the party, part 12

Holy titty-fucking christ these things destroy me. (not even close to SFW, probably not at home either unless you are totally 100% sure you are NOT a pussy).

You ever try and use this shit? Fucking impossible.

I don't know what happened

I was trying to do some schoolwork when all the sudden my scanner went to work on the box from some novelty salt and pepper shakers my brother got me for Christmas and my photoshop opened and then this happened:

Sweep out the old, sweep in the new

• I changed my picture there and my background color. Do you like it?
  
  
• Have you heard of "the modulator"?
  
  
• Did you know there are over 150,000 parts in a piano? We invented that shit. Humans like me and you invented that shit.
  
  
• It's the today, ghost titty.
  
  
• Also, this:
  
  
  
• Well that's all folks.
  [insert youtube video for Fleetwood Mac "That's all for everyone" here, the only one I found was a soundtrack to someone feeding a baby]

To my St. Louis reader(s), please come see this tonight

You'll cry.

But take heart– you can can come back to my place afterwards and do any one of the following:

• Shoot a BB gun at some cans or maps of Europe
  
• Drink one or several beers
  
• Give us adulations various and sundry
  
• Listen to a recitation of some of the Illiad, if it turns out to be That sort of night.
  
• Spill things on my floor
  
• Listen to music on my ipod until someone decides to change it because I have the same seven or eight non-party-friendly albums on there I always do
  
• Make merry

Soft boiled eggs have changed my life

Examples:

• Avocado, hard salami, cheddar, and soft-boiled egg "burritos"
  
• Hot Sopressa, provel cheese, and soft-boiled egg grilled cheese sandwiches
  
• Soft boiled egg with salt and pepper
  
• Hard-boiled egg you meant to be soft boiled but I mean who cares right
  
• Soft boiled egg just stuck in a leaf of romaine lettuce with maybe some cheese? (I haven't tried this but there is always lunch and I am out of bread products)
  

They also have such a stunning visual appearance. They make anything look like it is in a food porn magazine.

Figure 12: Soft Boiled Egg Food Porn

All thanks go to my mom who showed me how to soft boil eggs over Christmas vacation. Also, thanks mom for that time I called you about how to bake a potato and you told me to turn on the oven and put the potato in there. There's some kinds of advice you just don't forget.

Man I can't wait til I'm hungry.

I was a highwayman

Willie Nelson says:
I was a highwayman
Along the coach roads I did ride
With sword and pistol by my side
Many a young maid lost her baubles to my trade
Many a soldier shed his lifeblood on my blade
The bastards hung me in the spring of twenty-five
But I am still alive.

then Kris Kristofferson says:
I was a sailor
I was born upon the tide
And with the sea I did abide.
I sailed a schooner round the Horn to Mexico
I went aloft and furled the mainsail in a blow
And when the yards broke off they said that I got killed
But I am living still.

after which Waylon Jennings says:
I was a dam builder
across the river deep and wide
where steel and water did collide
A place called Boulder on the wild Colorado
I slipped and fell into the wet concrete below
They buried me in that great tomb that knows no sound
But I am still around..I'll always be around..and around and around and
around and around

and finally Johnny Cash concludes:
I fly a starship
across the Universe divide
and when I reach the other side
I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can
Perhaps I may become a highwayman again
Or I may simply be a single drop of rain
But I will remain
And I'll be back again, and again and again and again and again..


In this song Willie Nelson is a dude who robs ladies and kills soldiers. A bad ass. An outlaw. But eventually he gets caught, and hanged. But see, then his spirit returns, a bit later in History. Now he is Kris Kristofferson, who is by far the most likely sailor of the bunch. Now who can say how glorious it is to make a boat go around some land (I mean, what the fuck, are you gonna go through the land?), I guess in this chapter it's just he's kind of an idiot and he fucked some kind of thing up with the sails or jibs or whatever, I dunno, go ask some blue-blood yacht dude. Anyhow, you'd think this spirit was gone by now, since it got hanged and also drowned. But nope. It comes back, a bit further into History, this time in the person of Waylon Jennings, who got a hand from FDR what with the WPC building a gigantic dam. Here things might be said to get a little metaphorical. The place is called Boulder but it's getting filled with concrete. The Colorado was wild but they are taming it. Steel and water did collide, but at what cost? At the cost of one Waylon Jennings. Granted, he was clumsy and he was the guy who didn't do the smart thing and be extra careful while walking around on top of a giant not-yet-solidified dam. So anyhow now the spirit got hanged, drowned, and encased in what was at the time the largest man-made monument named after a vacuum in History. This brings us, dear reader, not to the present, because the present can't really mean anything to itself, now can it, so instead it brings us instead to the Future, in the person of Johnny Cash, starship pilot. He is flying the entire distance of the universe, not just lurkin' around outside a town, or going around some land in a boat in the water, or spanning the distance between two sides of an enormous gorge. As we well know the universe is finite and who knows what is on the other side. There are those who say it is the same, only backwards, only you can't even tell it's backwards, since you, too, are backwards. There are those who say it is just sort of boring. Nobody knows for sure. Johnny Cash doesn't even know for sure, but he has whittled down the possibilities to two: either he will become a highwayman again, thus starting the cycle anew, or, alternatively, and I'd like to put in my vote for more likely, he may become a single drop of rain. Here is where I like to imagine that every drop of rain used to be a highwayman, an inept sailor, a clumsy dambuilder, or an astronaut. One of those four. Nothing else. I myself, when I reach the other side, may turn into a single grain of sand. I think that is the fate of the musician, the logger, the banker, and the flight attendant. Whereas it has been demonstrated that piano tuners, butchers, systems analysts, and tinkerers shall return a single breath of air. We will all try to find a place to rest our spirits if we can, but chances are we will be back again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, only each time one step lower in a major scale, until we get almost back to the tonic again, at which point I suppose you should just restart the song because not even Johnny Cash could hit that bottom one if he tried.