I had a few coffees, cleaned the house, stacked papers, rummaged the fridge for a few eggs, vegetarian sausage links (not recommended on their own, but, if fried, they mix well in a sauce), tomato, and bread.
Sat with the Globe and a few more coffees.
More musicians in the S-L jamspace, cheaper rent. Recording later this afternoon with the Country Band. I need to sign something regarding royalties and S-L. Very strange. The S-L album needs to come out very soon. The pressure is on, yet I feel nothing. So I may as well go and buy a mickey of rye and bring it to the recording session. It's Friday, lay back a little, have a drink.
The Gomery what-have-you is a very corrupt thing. Jacques Corriveau has the airs of a complete liar. If you don't have alzheimers, don't compare your situation to a disease you don't have, like you did in the paper. So you're old; too old for jail, but you still looked like devil-man in the paper. Ugh. Politicians, are you aware that you are gross? --> For disillusioning the public even further, someone oughta line you up against the wall and hire someone to give your ass a routine buggering.
Politicians: collective noun used for singling out a slippery mass of old, pallid skins.
Song of the Week: HERE COMES YOUR MAN -- The Pixies
Posted by matty-b at April 15, 2005 1:12 PM