Sloths in La La Land
I write this to you with nine digits and a crumpled radius distal bone. You may, should you desire, refer to such QWERTY antics as “heroic.” I will not disagree. And, what’s more, such namecalling will go a long way to allay my sadness at missing Sam McPheeters orate at Booksoup right now. Sport is the culprit (yet again) for my ailing bones, but I will not recant for my associations thereof: I am addicted to competition and will so be, most likely, until I crawl into the urn.
A roundup of our intermingled lives will yield heavy doses of pairing off, nesting, odd jobs, new careers, and molasses-like momentum (thick, potent, but slow as fuck). We are (yes) writing a new record, and say that publicly only to encourage the three of you that read this to hold us to our task. I went to see Ghostlimb, Holy Fever, Touche Amore, Joyce Manor, and Hot Water Music the other day and left feeling excited about the rough tracks infesting my Garageband cache. Talked to Dave of Holy Fever and it left me feeling excited about human beings associated with this whole “punk” garbage. He’s manipulating lives from within the trenches in schools all over Mass and it gives credence to production via powerchords. So. There is that.
But I’d like to say something more here. I would like to be the better man and discuss the fact that we are months away from an election and (therefore) shitshow of Americana oversight and uber-emotional and unapologetically emotion-based decision making. I would like to live in a place that allows nation-wide equality to all humans, regardless of sexual preference. I would like to live in a world where makeshift campsites in the middle of downtown areas and quaint, sound-byte worthy slogans don’t replace true and actual fundamental changes to the manner in which daily lives are conducted. I want to be smart enough with numbers to understand how long it will take for a more economically-just society to exist on this planet. But but but. The bigger and grander thing I would like to think about is how gorgeous portions of the earth look, especially the parts devoid of human life. I want to remind you that a good book on a nice beach is a simple and (nearly) free joy that can make life worth it, even in dire times. I want you to think about love. And about the way you may be taking for granted the fact that you do not currently have skin cancer. Make dinner for your parents. Walk amongst vultures. Swallow your skin. Paint like Alice Neel:
We are playing some shows (look to the right). We are mending bones. We are.
AEJBIV et al