party is on his way to our diggs (near the commune) in the wilds of pennsylvania. it's a beautiful day--which is either a blessing or a begrudged curse for a traveler setting out on a three-hour-by-car drive. i hope he takes the time to roll the windows down. air conditioning gives me a headache and a false sense of fresh, cool air.
the basement, the dugout, the diggs--call it what you want--is all but prepped. two 15-inch speakers are balanced on their posts, a 1985 yamaha synth is poised on its one-piece stand. the whole ordeal is wrapped in countless guitar cables, quarter-inch. its all there, but for party, the mpc, the 800-watt pa head, the laptop, two mics and another layer of tangled, shorted, wirey-snakey guitar cables. and one eighth-inch adapter, mustn't forget that!
even on top of the above paragraph--the prep scene--a set up for a rehearsal never goes without hitch. it becomes impossible--after years of performing and recording, and packing and lugging--to pull off anything (rehearsal or otherwise) without some sort of mishap, misgiving, misinformation, or missing part of the cog wheel.
in unrelated news, i entered a contest today. no, not a rap contest. not a battle or a sweepstakes. no, a writing contest. i did so in a bid to win a guest editor spot at high times magazine. that's right. consider it my official job application. maybe after this year i can spot writing "rapper" on my w-2... or w-4... one of my w's. i forget which. my 1500 word piece, is sci-fi short fiction. it's about a young woman tempting a young man into smoking pot. in the future. very adam and eve meets weeds meets dawson's creek. you'd love it. i just hope bobby black likes it. and jorge cervantes. and great uncle soma.
but i digress--it's rehearsal day, not writing day. so, i wait here, chilling with stretch until party arrives. should be sometime within the next hour and a half. stretch has been telling me all about the d.c. trip from his perspective. lmfao (or whatever the kids say), that's one gnarly trip we had. if you didn't catch the earlier blog, stretch watched in stitches as styles east pushed some poser out of a moving car! real.
i've got mics to gather and things to forget. it never goes off without a hitch. never.
the basement, the dugout, the diggs--call it what you want--is all but prepped. two 15-inch speakers are balanced on their posts, a 1985 yamaha synth is poised on its one-piece stand. the whole ordeal is wrapped in countless guitar cables, quarter-inch. its all there, but for party, the mpc, the 800-watt pa head, the laptop, two mics and another layer of tangled, shorted, wirey-snakey guitar cables. and one eighth-inch adapter, mustn't forget that!
even on top of the above paragraph--the prep scene--a set up for a rehearsal never goes without hitch. it becomes impossible--after years of performing and recording, and packing and lugging--to pull off anything (rehearsal or otherwise) without some sort of mishap, misgiving, misinformation, or missing part of the cog wheel.
in unrelated news, i entered a contest today. no, not a rap contest. not a battle or a sweepstakes. no, a writing contest. i did so in a bid to win a guest editor spot at high times magazine. that's right. consider it my official job application. maybe after this year i can spot writing "rapper" on my w-2... or w-4... one of my w's. i forget which. my 1500 word piece, is sci-fi short fiction. it's about a young woman tempting a young man into smoking pot. in the future. very adam and eve meets weeds meets dawson's creek. you'd love it. i just hope bobby black likes it. and jorge cervantes. and great uncle soma.
but i digress--it's rehearsal day, not writing day. so, i wait here, chilling with stretch until party arrives. should be sometime within the next hour and a half. stretch has been telling me all about the d.c. trip from his perspective. lmfao (or whatever the kids say), that's one gnarly trip we had. if you didn't catch the earlier blog, stretch watched in stitches as styles east pushed some poser out of a moving car! real.
i've got mics to gather and things to forget. it never goes off without a hitch. never.
in other, unrelated updating, i'm throwing down an afternoon of gaming with tom de la commune tomorrow. doritos and dews, bro & brews... you know. co-op style. (jean-baptiste hollers, 3.6.0.2.4.7.-inna-5.7.0. you know!!!)
