So I just read this book where one of the main characters had the same name as me. I think it was making me feel batty and schizophrenic. It's over and already I feel healthier. Don't I, Justin? Yes, yes you do. Precciioooussss.
So I went back to the morning paper this morning, which was filled with bombings, ladies falling like drunks while figure skating, and a fairly impossible crossword---no, I don't remember who the "captive of sea nymph Calypso" is. I'm sorry.
What does this teach us? Well, only that if it doesn't involve birdmonster, my brain turns into a mashed potato-esque clump of uselessness. At least these days. Intelligence, I pray, will return again.
We got song seven yesterday too. Instrument switches, slide guitars, and big gross rock outs abound within. Plus, Peter gets to play my big ugly bass, which he must enjoy. Actually, did I ever mention that I couldn't even record with that thing? We got it "set-up" in the City, which basically meant that someone lowered the action and changed to intonation so that it didn't sound like the same instrument which caused me to weep for forty days. Thankfully, we had an old trusty back up which is less abused but, in the end, identical.
But man: seven songs...Before we know it that number will be twelve & then they'll be mastered & then, well, then we can share. I'm looking forward to that part.
Oh: and thanks again to all you presale folks. I didn't know people in Wisconsin or the Netherlands knew who we were, but, apparently, I was mistaken. If I could only speak Dutch or...Wisconsin-ese...