I have something important to say. This is very important. What I'm saying is extremely important. This is really important. This is an important message. Please pay attention. This is very important. Read this message. It is very important. Action required. This is an important message. C'mon guys, I need your attention. This is extremely important. I really need you to pay attention. It is very important that you read this. It is very important. This is very important. You must read this and reply. It is really, really important that you read this. It is very, very important. This is really very important. Action required. You must reply. It is extremely important that you read this and get back to me. You must read this. It is really super important. This is an important message. I really, really appreciate you taking care of this important matter.

I spent today in the studio, recording some stuff. It was fun as hell. I have some rough mixes now of seven songs, including "Sugar for My Blood". I'm excited. Details will follow. Maybe I'll even have some shows before the year is out, if I don't contract that flu from some pig.

Swordfish is on sale this week. So is catfish. I like them both. I know some people who don't eat fish. Some of them hate fish and some are vegetarians and some are vegans. They all share that not eating fish thing.

The vegans and vegetarians I can understand. No creature flesh. I was once asked while working the seafood case, "Is fish a vegetable?" The inquisitor was a beautiful, tall, thin Asian woman who you would guess was a model. She was serious. 

Now look at flounder. I like flounder. I've caught and eaten them. What if we were more like flounder? Both eyes on one side of our face. A dark side and a lighter side. Flat but purposeful. You could argue that they aren't too pretty, but you couldn't say they aren't different. I guess halibut are similar, but they're bigger. And, halibut is not a verb.

There's a certain lack of symetry about flounder that makes them so cool. It's like that offset stripe that runs up some Brittish sports cars. Anybody can put a stripe or two perfectly up the middle. It takes an eye to do it right somewhere off of center. I suspect that that episode of the original Star Trek with the guy who was black on one side and white on the other and was at war with a guy who mirrored that, was inspired by flounder. Though I doubt there are flounder wars based on coloration patterns. 

The first time I saw a flounder I was creeped out and fascinated. That mouth/eye combo was weird. Then it flipped over and revealed its soft, white other side. (I wanted to say soft, white underbelly in a little nod to Blue Oyster Cult, but it's not a belly. It's the other side. Perhaps next time.) Creepy. Fascinating. How did it do that?

I've been told that they're born with an eye on each side and their mouth centered on their forward end. As they grow and hang out exclusively on the ocean floor all their junk migrates to the top side. I don't know how accurate that is. I don't particularly care. It's too cool. 

My friend Kevin at rumproast.com just sent me this link to his site. I'm seriously re-thinking my "no TV" stance I adopted when the digital transmission took effect.

And what the hell. Here's the link to my lightning strike video on YouTube. It was pretty big in Poland for a day back in the Spring. I'm seriously rethinking my "no lightning" stance I adopted after it was shot.

Earlier this week I had a meeting with my store manager. I was handled pretty good. I mean I was "empowered". I had been asked some leading questions. I somehow felt that I was being blamed for my boss' behavior.

"George, how are you communicating your concerns to him?"

Well, first I throw a powerful tantrum. I find it useful to rip something from the wall and heave it across the room. Kicking chairs through the air while exclaiming, "FUCKING FUCK  FUCKING FUCK FUCK!" is a reasonable alternative. Between tantrums I like to chisel my grievances onto stone tablets. This is time consuming but it helps keep me in shape for punching walls. It's also a good way of keeping a permanent record that cannot be deleted until it is smashed over the guilty party's head.


Keep the duck.

Let's talk boots. Boots seem to be of such grand importance that when it's 90 degrees Farenheit some trollop is guaranteed to be strutting about with those somehow relevant, crumply, suede boots. And a white denim skirt. I'm all for trollops, but the crumply suede boots? C'mon. It makes me wonder if you chewed a lot of lead painted windowsills as a kid. And I'm just assuming it's supposed to give a "come hither" vibe because it almost does. I think that babe from "Night Court" and "The Fall Guy" is the role model here. But in the end it looks like some kind of miscalculation on the Makes Me Look Taller Chart.

Then there are the gladiator boots. I was in the city today and noticed women wearing boots that are all straps. Like if M. C. Escher(sp?) designed a boot. I hate M.C. Escher(sp?)[I hate "(sp?)" as well but I hate that guy so much that I can't Google him because I don't want to see another ribbonhead couple or inside out stairwell]. What's the point? They add all that geometry and hardware with none of the dominatrix charm. It must be Wiccan.

Next time: those god damned man purses. Okay, this time. What the fuck are you carrying so much of that you need a purse? You just amplified the weeny factor of the fanny pack by an exponent.

Actually next time: Men who are attracted to women who drive Corvettes.

My boss tried getting some kind of something out of me yesterday. Not sure what that was about. Forty-five minutes culminating in, " Face it George, we work in a fucking grocery store." Go team. I love it when management "handles" me. The "fucking grocery store" hasn't been very communicative lately. Tough to decide if it's the people I work for or the corporate climate they aspire towards perpetuating. Guess there's no difference. I don't think I've ever felt so much like chattle as I do working there now. Go team.


Think I'll start my own foo-foo farm and boutique-y restaurant. "Small or large?" "You want chiz on dat?" Or maybe just sell all my belongings on eBay. Anybody want to make an offer on my pink 1985 Hosoi Hammerhead? I 've been back on the bike lately so perhaps winning the Tour de France is a good idea. Wait. I know. I'll write hit songs.

Got work to do..................

Gonna let you all in on a little secret. Well, not really a secret so much as a thing that crept up on me while I was having fun. Today is the first anniversary of the day I met my girlfriend. Yes, one whole year. Yes, I have a girlfriend. Yes, I like women. I can drive a standard shift. Yellow is the funnest color. Brazil nuts are oily but clean tasting. It's a good day.

Other news: I'm getting ready to go into the studio and do some recording. Just me and my guitar in a studio. There seem to be some songs I've never recorded. I'm also going to record some old songs that I play differently. Why? I'll tell ya why. I need to hear what I sound like without the gimmickery of the four track or the bombast of the noise. I loved it when I did those things and there are a few songs I will never record non-four track versions of. I could never re-record the noise album (Still don't know if I can release it.). Some of those four track versions could never be done better. But I also need to put out something that was recorded all at the same time. Past releases, except the noise, have always been cobbled together from all kinds of time frames. I need a glimpse of one specific chunk of sing-song-y expression. Kind of like when my band, Stringbean recorded, except that I hope not to lay down a bunch of listless vocal tracks like I did then. And even those lame vocals are a good look at what we did in the studio. A peak at the pecks and a snub of the quads. This time 'round I'm a bit more seasoned. Yet I'm scared as hell. I've recorded backing vocals for a couple different bands now and gotten excellent feedback(toot-toot). And I'm still frightened to do it for myself in the studio.

That is the biggest reason I decided to do it. It scared me. I was listening to Night Control's "Death Control" CD on the way to visit my girlfriend and the idea to record in a studio washed over me like that blue transmission fluid bursting on the shelf of my UPS truck in August. Immediately I started finding reasons to not do it. And immediately I wanted to tell my girlfriend that I was going to do it because I knew she'd support me in that decision. She did. She does. It's booked. I'm scared.

This is akin to that first time I played a solo show. And funny, I can't remember what that show was. My first Ham Steak show actually had Mark from Stringbean on second guitar. But completely solo, I couldn't tell you. I might even have attempted to play along to my Casio keyboard. (I did that for one show and it sucked ass. Those fucking drum machines are soooooo unforgiving.) So(lo), it's just me in a real studio. Wish me luck. I'll be thinking of you. And me. And my girlfriend. OOPAH!