Friday, February 29, 2008

"Hey Mr. DJ, Put these Handcuffs On..."

I finally seized those reins of terror and yanked and pulled until I steered them back in the right direction. The direction that leads to the land of peace and quiet. Serenity City, sweetheart, let me move back in and let's get reacquainted.

Let's take a look at Serenity City's landscape shall we?

You will immediately notice there is no hint of DJs in either sight or in sound. They have all been exiled to the land of Disrespect and Inconsideration, keeping the Jackhammers At Dawn company. The official newspaper of this land is called "The Daily Asshole", and trust me, in a place like this they never, ever run out of stories.

But in Serenity City, news of the world is carried by a whisper, by a flutter of butterfly wings or by a gentle sound source of one's own choosing.

A slow-leak sigh of sheer heaven.

While my guitar gently now can I.

This all may not make much sense to y'all.

So in plain English:

The fucking DJ down the hall was shut down. Put the needle on the record. Put the pen on the $300 noise disturbance ticket.

Last nite a DJ left my life...YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Currently listening to: a slow-leak sigh of sheer heaven


Faerie said...


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Faerie said...

hey girl.
I want you to know I miss you. I know that you really dont like this realm of therapy... so I am going to let it go. Please contact me if you want to talk, or need a friend.
Always there.

Allan said...

A gentle sound source? Such as a cheap hollow-body played through a Pignose w/ a Tube Screamer?
Miss you.