Sing me a crazy song, I got dancing feets.
“The problem with country music these days is you can’t kill no one in a song no more.”
Aw man it’s all about the music, about the colours man…Can you see them dude? I mean they’re just there and they keep coming, like the speakers are laser beams and they be shooting colours all over us…Aw man how many hits do you think I took? Man cause I’m about to fly…Oh man remember that sandwich?
After that brief interlude of my chemically addled brain from somewhere about the age of 16. I tell you. There’s nothing quite as satisfying as killing someone in a song. Like Steve was talking about. I mean that in the kindest, most Christian way. I get my propers from the right kind of music. And to think about it, how many of them kids who listen to the angry and growling yelling (sometimes German) music are doing so instead of spraying up a class room with buckshot and .32 caliber shells? Or turning the mom and dad’s dinner table into a recreation of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre? The music may suck but it sure does soothe the savage beast of teenage hormones and angst. As for me, well I’ll just say there’s a few songs that keep me from staring at the big ugly walls of Milhaven Maximum Security.
And on another note. I need NyQuil or something. Seems I caught my two year old’s cold. See when a little one gets sick the first thing they want is to cling to you and stay close and well in that you always end up catching their bad juju. So here I am, I can’t breathe and my back and neck ache. Blah! It’s not good for sleeping or anything for that matter.
And dreams…Well when I slept. Man I dreamed about sharks and big mean sharks they were and I was on a boat and the sharks were eating the boat and the people on it. Sort of a Jaws thing but there were naked women too. Because I got this repressed need to be a flower or some crazy Freudian claptrap concept. Hey Ziggy sometimes a cigar is a cigar. And sometimes a naked woman is just a reminder of the evil and terrible creatures they really are…I’m kidding…I’m in a mindset where sexually and emotionally I am about as anatomically correct as a Ken doll when it comes to the opposite sex. I don’t want nothing, no how, no way from anybody who posses a set of fallopian tubes. Of course I say that and I’ll be suddenly get struck dumb by some pretty thing who says good morning just the right way and here I’ll look like the worlds biggest hypocrite…Because it always seems to work that way.
Man I feel like some strange animal today.