<$BlogRSDUrl$>

Thursday, September 25, 2003

Yeah, so finally got to talk to my boy Richie after a couple weeks of phone tag and busy signals (thanks, MCI! 21 biz days my fat white ass), and that was a nice'n. I miss my kids like mad. I'm digging it here, but, shit, y'know. You miss the people you love.

Apparently the CBGB's show went off well. Kudos to all, but especially to Al, who learned and played a full set with just one full band practice under his belt. The boy's a rock. 'Course, hell, he's a bass player, and bass players are always rocks, right? Back me up, fellas. 'specially you, MikE. You know that's the straight shit.

Oh, Christ. Just now looking at the first ad for MATRIX REVOLUTIONS. Oy. I wish there wasn't that piece of me that was just salivating at the thought of seeing it. Ah, well.

Right, the show. Yeah, so you can get a stream of it here, at some point. Right now they haven't got anything up past August, but I'm sure The Deacons'll get a slot. Bookmark the fucker and check back often. I'm buggin' for a tape, which Richie's telling me he's got, so I'll probably get my dub...when I go back east for the holidays and slap him around for a while and then stand behind him with a hammer or a big rock and threaten to crush in his little bald skull if he tries to put me off by showing me marbles or pointing out just how cute Sandy Mittens is.

And the album's just about ready. Jen (Al's Jen, not Buttons) has the artwork done (and it's looking fucking good, according to Richie), the thank you list is on the way and the boys have lined up a joint in Boston to press it. So, cool. Keep an eye out for Brooklyntown , all three of you reading this who aren't Deacons or friends of Deacons. Chances are that you guys from England & Germany could get freebies just 'cause you're English and German. Drop me a mail and I'll do what I can.

Yeah, so went riding just around sunset down in Magnuson park, down around the corner, and I was watching these guys fly these massive kites and people were walking their dogs and it was just all pretty and I hear this chirping behind me and turn around and there's a family of partridges, mom and dad and a whole fuckload of little'n's , crossing the path and then taking wing across a field of waist-high weeds. Sometimes things are so right and perfect and beautiful that I just want to cry. I may love this town.

Out. Sweet dreams, y'all.

Comments: Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

All Contents Copyright 2008 W.H.Hardwick