Bold Prediction

I'm playing soccer tonight. It's 32 degrees right now and there's a smog warning in effect. I am going to die.

I had forgotton what polluted air looked like after spending my past three summers in a combination of Kingston/New Hampshire/and (for a month last year) Florida. Here it is a fairly clear day but the air is still gray - man that is sickening.

Belgium would be nice this time of year.

Fan's On . . . . . shit's flying

And the band plays on . . . . .

unless your band name is/was Unibrau. Then you've got a bass player who now will never play with your drummer again. It's kind of like the Police, when Stuart Copeland would move his cymbals so he couldn't see Sting on stage . . . . well, except that they were more talented, successful and, oh yes, talented. I kid, but I'm pretty bummed out about this. I mean I was having a couple second thoughts about the band, but over the past weeek and a half I've written some exciting new stuff that had the potential to be pretty killer by our standards. Anyway, apparently there was a huge falling out between Tree and Rick this weekend and from what I can see it's been coming for a while. So, there's still crap going on.

dreams of rock psudo-stardom are put on hold



blargh

ajc