So. Sosososo. Here we are again! I do apologize about the distance between posts, but heeeey...at least I'm still postin', right?
So that thing I alluded to in my previous That Bastard On went down, but it went down in the secondary, harder path. I can only hope that it ends well, y'know? It's still fraught with the worry and stress and bullshit that can still cause me to stay away from bloggan for a month, but for now fuck it - I'm still here. I'm still standin', y'knowwhatImean?
Anyway, enough bullshit! LET'S DO A NEW FEATURED LINK, OKAY? So here we got a long-time poster of mine, and it's about time I show her some love, y'knowwhatImean? Tracirz, over at Technicolor Typecast, updates with stream of consciousness posts, stuff about her "wabi-sabi wedding" (her and her beau, Nebberz, wants ta get married on 11/11/11 and are on a quest to get it done - funny story, Nebberz looks like a homeboy of mine), and is also an aspiring minimalist. Suffice it to say, as a collector of all kinds of shit (mostly books and weapons), I find her viewpoint a refreshing contradiction to my own and one that I read up on every time she posts.
So yeah, go show some love and let her know That Bastard sent ya: http://technicolortypecast.blogspot.com
So there we go, a new featured link and what-not~! Get to it, minions.
SOOOOOO, as anyone probably/kinda/sorta remembers from my previous post, yeah I'm on a new job FINALLY after, like, a friggin'...no, two years. Construction, at that. Shit's fuckin' awesome, I feel like I AM getting stronger (though my back is only slightly a worry) and overall I feel really good about it. I mean, having worked the food production/factory labor as I have, I've NEVER felt like I was doing anything productive, y'know? Not only that but the workspace itself is pretty chilled out and filled with rough, blue-collar humor. It's a real working man's environment, and I fuckin' DIG it. Plus the employers and Human Resources people actually make you feel like a valued employee rather than a piece-of-shit cog in the machine.
Strangely enough, I have only minor trepidations concerning it...after all, some of my best lyrics are based around the simmering hatred of the middle class due to base exploitations and the vicious, ever-increasing gap between them and the higher class. Working at a place where they actually VALUE you and your work is kinda putting a dampener on all that seething rage...I dunno, we'll see. Either way, it ends come January when I become a full-time student again, so it'll be good while it lasts.
So, smashed dreams. You guys know by now (at least, MY word on it) that I have an insane streak of perseverance within me. I'll keep going 'til shit is completely failed, then I'll get back up and either try it again or try something different, but I keep on going, right? Well...it's been something like a month or a month and a half since I last practiced with m'band, and we're ALL feelin' it. I don't even know what the hell my bassist is doing at this point except working and chilling at his house. My drummer is actually drumming for another band who may or may not need a vocalist...but they've already got a bassist, so that puts me in a little quandary. Plus all they want to do is Offspring songs, which isn't in and of itself a bad thing but it DOES put a limit on what I COULD do for 'em.
On the other hand, I happen to like the Offspring and we can borrow their jam space on their off-days, get back to practicing our songs and getting that fucking demo cut.
Another option though is to simply wait 'til I get into Communications - Broadcasting and either borrow or outright abscond the recording studio in order to cut our Five Moves of Doom demo. On the other hand, that won't be 'til January...which means at least three more months of feeling my edge getting rusty and dull. Shit sucks. ESPECIALLY when the songs I'm singing are better than what's on the radio. Plus, while I've far since come to the conclusion that I won't be able to cut our first album before Christmas (I wanted to give the first ten pressings to my parents as a gift, and a revelation that I'm back in the music biz - my father was INCREDIBLY proud of me when I first started getting into it and my plans for the band and everything...then my knee injury struck. Two years later, I'm plannin' on surprising them again, for all that I think my dad suspects) but I WOULD like to cut the demo before then. In the very least, I want SOMETHING to show my parents that I'm working hard on my dreams rather then letting them lay sundered.
Still, there's still always that worry that something bad can happen. I lose my bassist, I lose my drummer...I lose my reason to stay in Bellingham (though school would be a good reason to stick around, especially since I hate the California school system), mostly. I could make a band faster and easier in California, plus probably get more gigs...
But it would always be lacking in that little something that Bellingham offers musicians. This has always been an artist town, and I've experienced NOTHING like that back in California. Hell, there they try to REPRESS your artistic urges and force you into a executive-directed mold.
Fuck. That. Shit. I don't mind that I'll eventually have to go to either California or New York (or even Seattle/Tacoma) in order to sign papers, make deals and fuck around with executives, hell it comes with the territory. I knew that kind of shit would have to go down the MOMENT I got into this biz, but I still desire to do it all on my own terms. Like how that old hat goes, I want to be able to look back at my life and say "I did it my way." I know that selling out occurs to EVERY musician at some point in time, but I don't have to sell my fucking soul.
My stories, my songs, my scripts, my...well, shit, ANYTHING connected to me as an artist, every last one of 'em are a part of me. I'll whore myself out how I see fit, thank you very much. With that stated, I refuse to whore myself out unless it's on terms that allows me to still be me, y'knowwhatImean? "What do you consider selling out to be?" is a question I ask other artists and musicians, and there's a general consensus that when you give up your basic rights as an artist, to BE an artist, to push the boundaries and chain your imagination and free will to executive meddling...that's when you sell out.
I actually agree with that chunk of a statement.
So yeah, I'm still going to go for it. Even if I DO end up losing the current roster of my main band (and, subsequently, No Rhymes) I'm still going to try again. It just seriously sucks 'cuz that means an entire year just...pfft, gone. Lost. Still, I at least have the strength of substance to keep on keepin' on, so at least there's that...
Bachelor Chow tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime! Y'know how you got all that rope sausage from the night before? Y'know what I mean, polska kielbasa or even "smoked sausage?" Well, have you ever considered building a breakfast sandwich around it?
Now, I'm biiiiig on breakfast for dinner, and nothing screams Bachelorism more than a breakfast sandwich for dinner. Unlike other people though, I don't toast my bread - I butter one side, then fry that motherfucker on the frying pan before I do either bacon or sausage, followed by cooking the eggs in the resultant delicious frying mixture. Butter + sausage/bacon grease = holy shit prepare to go running, dawg. Yer gonna need some cardio on that.
Still, shit is good as a motherfucker, and when you can combine meats or cheeses, it's always all good on the palate. I always use wheat bread (unless it's that good-assed potato bread), and will use a meat, a cheese (never American - it's fucking vegetable oil folks, it ain't even a fucking cheese), an egg or two and maybe a third slice of bread 'cuz I have something to sop up the LIIIIIFE with. I always do my eggs sunny-side up (under medium?) 'cuz I dig that LIIIIIIIIIIIFE all over my face. Unless I got face scruff goin', then that shit kinda sucks and suddenly I'm not into yolk.
Of course, I rarely have face scruff outside of my muttonchops so it's all good.
SO, if you got some leftovers laying around, consider a steak-breakfast sandwich. Or, as I'm gonna do right now for lunch, a rope sausage-breakfast sandwich. Rock that bread, cut the sausage in half, cook on both sides while you slice a delicious, thin slash of cheese (too much can fuck with the balance of the sandwich), add that sausage while the eggs barely cook, drizzle the whole damn thing with a sprinkling of pepper jack cheese and it's fuckin' ON dizzawg. Also, gonna saute up some onions on that motherfucker. Have some V-8 (low sodium or that good ol' splashed shit with Pomengranite-Blueberry) so yer not missin' out too much on the vegetable point and there ya go.
Go ahead and try it yer damn self, see if it doesn't make your palate orgasm. It will~! In before some health nut tells me this shit's bad for me, motherfucker I KNOW it's not the healthiest thing in the world...only the best.
That's 'bout it. I know this post is shorter than usual, but I'm busy as a motherfucker and I'll pop ya some stuff later on, yeah? As is I'm gettin' used to the construction schedule and will be able to post during the week as well as the weekend, so hey - it's all good.
P.S. - best breakfast sandwich combination evar: fried onion bagel half, fried cheese bagel half (both from Costco), cream cheese, BBQ pulled pork (Kirkland Signature) with extra barbecue sauce, and two eggs. You're welcome.
P.P.S. - Jo, if'n yer readin' this and notice I didn't post the way I was going to, I FUCKING FORGOOOOOT sorry braugh. Hit a nyukka up, mah mermaid homeboy, and remind me sometime 'bout what the hell it was. I completely forgooooot hnnnnng. Godommot Fronk...
Personal blog filled with fun and frivolity aplenty~! Come get offended with the best of 'em. CURSE WORDS!
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