Big ups!

What a night!

Tonight, I met BW’s Sugardaddy. I didn’t really meet him, but I peeked him. My biking friend described him as “fatter, taller, and balder” than me. He was all of those things and more. He wore glasses.

It’s an awkward thing to see the boy your supposed girlfriend broke up with you for. Superficial judgements were all I could muster. I know BW is into white dudes with bellies. So, it only makes sense that she would pick a white dude with a belly to replace me. But, there was something kind of repulsive about him. Like, he works a soulless job and loves it type of thing. He had a corporate ugliness about him.

I wasn’t sure what to do when I saw them. Every time we were in the same area, the dude looked up at me and whispered into her ear. I didn’t feel comfortable giving BW a friendly approach with this dude hanging onto her. I felt banished and repelled.  I did my best and chatted up whoever was near whenever I made my aborted approach. It was not a situation I thought I would ever be in with BW.

And on my mother’s birthday of all days.

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Blogging in a warzone

The blogosphere is ablaze! I’ve taken so much fucking shrapnel during these past few days, that I doubt I’ll ever be able to comfortably pass through a metal detector again.

The events leading up to this State of War are stupid and boring. But, boy, did they ever lead to some dramatic shit!

Our faithful readers will (i.e. those who even read the comments on the Who We Are) know the full story and can take sides according to their biases (i.e. Do I prefer Sewerboy’s viscerally harrowing contributions or Bilewoman’s culturally inspired witticisms?) But one things for certain: this is now a one man blog. I can be a blogging powerhouse or I can be a bored loser. I haven’t yet hit my stride with Moco Feast. But I’d like to take this new opportunity to see what I can do.

I need your faith and your patience. The days and weeks ahead are going to be rough. Usually, it was BW who inspired me to get on my ass and type out some bullshit. I won’t have that going forward. She requested to be removed. And if there is one request that I have a 100% fulfillment rate on, it is removing co-bloggers.

I’ve been reborn. Freed from the shackles that having a co-blogger entails. I hope to delight the faithful readers. And shock to an early grave those who are not committed to the cause of Truth, Generosity, Thrift and Peace.

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It’s all yers CREEP

I got stuff to do. Do what you want with the blog.

4th Estate 4EVER.

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BW is a fan of inviting others to join the blog. I’m most assuredly not. Fuck other people. We started this blog in a pile of filth. I wrote my first post with boogers on every finger and snot pouring out of my nose.

We’re not world beaters by any means, but fuck it. I’ll exercise some editorial control on this mother fucker.

We had a request to join. BW allowed it. I just vetoed it. So, if you’re the poor soul who was given permission: it’s been revoked. Join WordPress and prove your mettle to my satisfaction and this decision will be reviewed. For now, my word is law. There is no God. ETC ETC

Anyway, I’m in a really pumped up mood. Spent all day with High School freshmen. I taught them World Geography. They learned some serious shit. That got me a jolly mood, but it was the ride home that put me in a fucking super pumped mood. Leaving a high school on your bike is one of the more dangerous rides you can do. I don’t give a fuck about rush hour alley cat rides in Manhattan. Try leaving Ray High School at 4: 05. FUCK THAT. I wanted to listen to some extreme music to make my death more epic, so I put on Aus Rotten. Boy, did it do the trick. That ride was pure revolutionary madness. Weaving through warm bodies and student drivers looking for any opening available. What a rush!

In a town where extreme sports consist of surfing (I’m the wrong body type) and wind surfing (gay), I’d strongly suggest adding riding from a High School during quitting time to that list.

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First off big WELCOME to our newest contributor!! I don’t know if he wants to remains anonymous, but git ready for more CC dude ‘tude on this herrr blog. Caught some sweet music this weekend but didn’t take a  single damn photo becuase I was mad relaxing. Got my brew on at Threads to see Toxic Fuse, Shayna Sands (rock-n-roll set) and Corpus Gold play. Although I really couldn’t hear a lot of what Corpus Gold was givin off, the lead men of the band Abel and Jesse are hella awesome performers. Jesse brings the good vibes and Abel got that wiggle worm James Brown thang goin’ on. If ANYONE has got it goin’ on in this town, it’s that dude.Hauled ass and got wasted at Disc Go Rounds Hillbilly Stomp this weekend. Excellent turnout and interesting lineup. HOBO opened the show up with old man raunch, Git Off the Lawn brought the real deal bluegrass, Lee Bucker brought that sweet sweet one-man in yo face and a lil emotional set, and mizz Shayne Sands closed the show out with a bright acoustic set ALL the way down from NYC.

I need to wash my sheets, they’re gross. And I’ll be hittin the road in April for a few weeks to Manhattan. Permanent move in process? Dunno yet.

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Back to working as a Sub. Went to a few shows. But none of that interests me right now.

Look at this fucking album cover:

A Fucking God

I don’t usually have homosexual urges, but Bruce Springsteen on the cover of Darkness on the Edge of Town is pushing me towards the homo-side. Imagine being a young man in the 70s. You have corny faded wallpaper and classic blinds. And the FUCKING BOSS shows up looking effortlessly cool and sexy. Do you beg him to take you away? I’ve been debating that exact question ever since I studied this album cover.

The album itself is not so good. Few things can live up to an album cover this great. But Adam Raised a Cain is good for Bruce Springsteen. I normally hate the guy. One well taken picture changed that.


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IT’s 8:30 a.m. and I’M MAD

Why? 1. I write for a certain publication in town and they’re beginning to refuse coverage of alternative and underground events. 2. After interviewing the dudes from Pop Pistol (San Antonio) and learning about this organization called LOCAL 782, it makes me fume that CC seems to not give a fuck sometimes. Local 782 is a musicians organization run by local musicians for local musicians to help educate each other of smart music business practices. WTF Corpus? 3. There’s a lot of fuckin drama here. People don’t want to work together and I’m tired of listening to everyone (particularly business owners) bitch and moan about why this person sucks or why that is bad. And since I’m broke anyway, I’m boycotting those businesses. I don’t wanna hear it. 4. My creative collaborators are a bunch of dickless wusses. Seriously. All I want is someone to make music with and each one of my collaborators respond like this “I won’t stand behind it if it’s not good.” IT TAKES TIME MOTHERFUCKERS.

I’m outta here after the summer. I can guarantee you that.

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