Good warm and nibbly Wednesday to you, my blog-adoring audience. My mood of late has been ping-ponging round and round like so many options on a lazy susan at a restaurant of chinese extraction. Why, you ask? Life, I answer. Life. You will recall that last week around this time I was body-surfing gigantic waves of bliss due to the crashing tidal pools of all the friends I had made on facebook. What a ride it was! But naturally that wore off a little and here I still find myself: miserable at my day job as I tinker in the database while my pain-killer addicted boss trundles around the office looking for the pen they misplaced (hey dipnuts, look behind your freaking ear!). Then I crawl back into my car and drive through the traffic-strewn streets, back to the Regency Towers apartment complex, back into my unit, #8 wherein and whereupon I find myself sitting on the couch quite a bit and enjoying a beer or three no matter the evening or occasion. It is a wheel inside a rat-race inside a floating molecule, if you follow that. But yes, these are the items that confound the modern artist. You can sit and play nintendo and get a good buzz on OR you can get your fat ass off the sofa and create some blissful art.
Well, I did the latter the other night. I wrote a new song called The Unicorn Stampede. This is a song that finds me, your humble hero, attempting new and terrifying things. For one, I took an old folk legend and made it a song. [This is an approach that has worked for that band that Jim Coggins (Accounts) told me about. This band does a lot of prancing and uses fancy-pants words and bases whole albums around cute little tree-sprites and rabid ponies and such. (I don't want to bash anyone public-ly but let's just say their name is not The Novemberists). In any case, I took a page from their operating manual and hand-crafted a song from folk-lore)]}. For another thing, in keeping with the purity of my intention, I had to move into a horrifying zone where I use the accents and vocal registration of an old Irishman in 1104 AD as he tells his son, little Bobby Fitzdoodle about the thunder in the sky. "It's when the horse-lord mates with faeries" he tells young Bobby. It's The Unicorn Stampede.
Man, I hope you dig this song! Let me know if otherwise!!!!
Um, otherwise. That was putrid.
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