Thursday, August 30, 2007

Untucked button-up shirts

It's another rough Thursday at the Paragraph factory.

Our press club was celebrating and mourning the loss of two of our most dedicated memebers. It's always bitter sweet when someone leave our little group od drunkards and fuck offs.

We all know there are better things out there and they have gone ot find them. They are in Japan, Chicago, everywhere and no where.

They came in, drank it down and yelled for the band to play House of the Rising Sun with me one last time.

But last night the band would not oblige us our intoxicated requests. Their three piece smooth jazz musings did not exactly mesh with our loud swaying into life. I think our waitress recognized our distaste for what we were listening to last night, and so she doted on us to make we'd stay and tip well - as we all usually do.

But we might have recruited someone new to this band. We might have kept alive the connections around this city. We try. we really do.

We move on and hope that whom ever they hire here in the next few weeks will be someone with the fortitude to drink with best of us on these wild wednesday weeklies.

--- My Ipod Over flowith ---

I was simply overjoyed and overwheled at the overabundance of music spilling over into my Ipod.

In fact, there was so much that I finally have filled it. All 30 Gigs.

I know; who cares? I am sure most of you have filled yours a long time ago and really do not care that I fianlly got to a point where I ahve 5,904 songs that will last me 48.1 days if played continously - which I plan to do.

The new infusion of music, though, made me cocky. I was bragging to someone about it. Like the pompous jackass that I am.

"but why do you have so much. you don't even get a chance to listen to it all."

"What do you have?" I asked

"I have about a dozen good albums that i really like."

Mind boggling. 12 albums. But who is better off? Someone with 12 albums they know, respect and will cherish forever, or someone who has every sone writen by The Misfits simply becase he can?

Will I ever listen to all of it. I hope. I want to know it and enjoy it. but I probably won't.

Maybe that is the real tragedy here.

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