Orders

My bank account manager ordered me to go and hang out with the band [El K-Bong] in the studio. So I did.

Studio Ter

We were in the studio on Saturday and will be on Wednesday.

I have video and audio but I still need an ok.

Although I play guitar I'm just the band's techo.

Lost for words

I was spending my time in the doldrums
I was caught in a cauldron of hate
I felt persecuted and paralysed
I thought that everything else would just wait

While you are wasting your time on your enemies
Engulfed in a fever of spite
Beyond your tunnel vision reality fades
Like shadows into the night

To martyr yourself to caution
Is not going to help at all
Because there'll be no safety in numbers
When the right one walks out of the door

Can you see your days blighted by darkness?
Is it true you beat your fists on the floor?
Stuck in a world of isolation
While the ivy grows over the door

So I open my door to my enemies
And I ask could we wipe the slate clean
But they tell me to please go fuck myself
You know you just can't win

-- Pink Floyd

Clusterfucks

So today's chore is to do some recon to fix a clusterfuck by Le Médecine Conseil.

I'm sick of fixing clusterfucks too.

Hot

It's damn hot, damn humid and I'm damn sick of it.

Sane countries have air-conditioning everywhere -- not here.

La Fâte Fate De La Music

3 zilllion terrible bands + 3 zillion drinks (each) == 3 zillion hangovers.

Carrying Weapons

Laws that forbid the carrying of arms . . . disarm only those who are neither inclined nor determined to commit crimes . . . . Such laws make things worse for the assaulted and better for the assailants; they serve rather to encourage than prevent homicides, for an unarmed man may be attacked with greater confidence than an armed man.

-- Thomas Jefferson, quoting Cesare Beccaria

Cold

I was right. I have a cold, but it's upper respiratory, although I coughed up a small amount of dead bacteria when I woke up, but that's normal. So, I'm taking it easy.

On the up side, my trivial engineering in the studio was 'great'. We go back in on Saturday.

Everything Must Has Gone

It's high time for a walk on the real side
Let's admit the bastards beat us
I move to dissolve the corporation
In a pool of margaritas
So let's switch off all the lights
And light up all the Luckies
Crankin' up the afterglow
'Cause we're goin' out of business
Everything must go