While Sweet Pete chooses to be charming and funny and gracious to our supporters/fans past present and future, I choose to speak to my dyhydration, my dizzination, my upsetstomachitis, and my lackofmotivation-todoanythingbutdrinkOJ. (Currently listening to XTC -- thanks to the recommendation of lovely folks at the West Seattle Easy Street Records-- and Jimi Hendrix "Little Wing," and whatever the hell Pete is playing down in the basement. I hear heavy kick drum on the 1 - 2 - 3- and the 4, faslettoed harmoies, and rollerskates in the background... i think hes back into his BeeGees kick).
So after a bunch of Rainier tallies from Kings, and Hamms from Linda's, we headed over to West Seattle for shots of who knows what at the Redline (HOLLA HOLLA HEY!!! August 22nd Show!), where we met the MAN himself... Johnny Smokes. Friends, enemies, and fellow closet gangster rappers, if you havent made youre way to the Redline for Rock-a-roke, you havent given your aluminum chain and tin foil spinners the respect that you're begging and pleading the honeys for. 12 minute long versions of Simple Man that morphs into the Bloodhound Gang, Eminem, and Kylie Minogue? Theres no other place in the world (aside from the Basement Karaoke/Toga/80's themed parties that Pete and I throw every second Tuesday) that such a rich musical cornicopaiea (s?elling) can be experienced.
On that note, I gotsta go... T-minus 1 hour and 10 minutes till...
IM ON A BOAT!
xoxoxo,
Teacher Jason
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Shit, realized that there is no connection whatsoever between what i just wrote, and what i just titled what i just wrote. Moral of the story is... the morning after drinking too much, Pho or menudo turns my aches into giggles, and pirouettes, but today... as the title suggests... sometimes, even greasy MSG-filled Vietnamese noodles can't save my soul... but when that happens.... i know Jimi will
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