Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Okay, I am going to apologize for this one in advance. (part VI)

What should I write tonight?  Why not, the homework's done.  The TV is off.  Everything is quiet except for my music.  The Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Brendan's Death Song".  I want to see them live again.  Every time is different in an awesome way, yet similar in the way of quality.  Plus they have different guitarist now, a different sound.  New songs.  They always play all their new songs.  I like that.  Renewal.

There is a natural rhythm to everything, calibrated by my senses to just exactly the way I like.  It all comes out in these words.  When I play guitar.  Other rhythm activities.

*wink wink, nudge nudge*

I like a very organic, orgasmic sound.  R&B, but the good kind of shit, like Motown or Stax.  The funk brothers or The Mar-keys and Booker T. and the MG's.  Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels.  Yeah.  Even the Kingsmen.  They are one of the greatest bands of all time, after all they did record the best version of the greatest song ever conceived of besides anything by Jimi Hendrix or Dido.

[Fuck, did I just say Dido?  Dude, that has to be a typo.  Sorry.]

Yes, the Red Hot Chili Peppers have that kind of magic.  For me.  Not everybody might agree, but I don't really give a fuck.  Yes, I am that self-centered.  Deal with it.  I like music my way and I am not going to apologize for that.

[Dude, that sounded awfully harsh, maybe you should tone it down some.]


[Good.  Thank you.]

Who are you anyway?

[The voice inside your head.]

That's fucking trippy, man.

[I know, my head is totally spinning too.]

I can't believe I am actually have a conversation with myself right now.

[I am not yourself.  I am your meta-self.]

Oh.  Is there a difference?

[Not particularly.]


[Yeah, sorry.]

So, what does that make this?

[A form of masturbation?]


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