They so good...they so good...i cut you...they so good.
In fact i'm lucky they're just off enough to enjoy playing the unsound bundles of emotional instabilities i call songs.

Every time a family member comes to visit me they hand me a wad of cash and say "eat."  More than one person have even asked me if I'm bulimic.  I'm like damn, was i that fat before?

I call it the "band diet."
1. move to bushwick so you have to run everywhere, either because you're late to things, or you're being pursued.
2. I found myself in the grocery store about to buy those cheesy rice cakes and then i thought, i could spend this money on recording...so i walked out and ate a piece of gum.
3. Try hard not to drink alcohol for as long as you can, but give in every once in a while, so when you do drink you get completely plastard.  This diet is sure to guarantee either success or death at an early age.

Anyway, my band mate's are so talented...it's like how Jerry Seinfeld was the star of the show, but everybody knew it was all George, Kramar and Elaine that made it truly great.  In NYC it's hard for singer/songwriters to find musicians that are good let alone enthused about the music.  And for me, since my sorry excuse for self-explanation I call music is so close to me, it really touches me that such great players are willing to add to it and be into it.

They asked me what "brown water" meant the other day, thinking it was either feces or Detroit water or some disgusting combination of both.  I figured I wouldn't tell them what it meant because I feel music is better when processed outside of a level of logical comprehension.

And that's a rap.

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