Wow. So, uh, Day Two-Hundred Ninety-Nine was...um...different!
Welcome to my blog, folks. We talk comic books. We talk hockey. We tell cute stories about my toddler. We write haiku. We reminisce about theatre. And now, we rap.
And now you've got a little window to what it's like inside my mind. Welcome to Wonderland.
Tonight was the last Bat Boy show. I'm going to miss this show simply because it's been the only opportunity to play drums for pretty much anything (save the very occasional gig with Mark's church's band) since Astor Place Riot.
Man, Astor Place Riot was awesome.
Playing drums has been fun, though. I miss doing it. Who knows, maybe this'll open the door to more opportunities. If not, I ought to just write a show where a drummer is a central character, and then play the role myself. That should work.
My sense of hearing, however, is glad I will no longer be sitting between a crash cymbal, a ride cymbal, and a very large keyboard/guitar/vocals amplifier. My ears are still ringing just a little.
Choice "last-show ad-lib" of the night: "I need a Red Bull."
Switchfoot's new album is out Tuesday. Don't miss it, kids.
It annoys me when police officers turn on their lights and sirens just so they can run a red light, then immediately shut them off again. Seems like a bit of abuse of power to me.
I love the police, don't get me wrong, but that just seems cheap.
Wish I'd been able to go to tonight's Aeros game. Looks like it was a good one. A 5-2 win over a cross-state rival AND five fights? Plus, according to T3I's in-game tweeting, a little girl's figure skating routine while there are still gloves and sticks from an end-of-period melee lying on the ice? That's not just awesome, that's poetry!
And what, I ask, is life without a touch of poetry in it?
HAIL POETRY, THOU HEAVEN-BORN MAID!
THOU GILDEST E'EN THE PIRATE'S TRADE!
HAIL GLOWING FOUND OF SENTIMENT
ALL HAIL, ALL HAIL DIVINE EMOLIENT!
I'm done.
