Yesterday I rode a bicycle made for a six year old girl for four hours. I also smoked ten cigarettes and drank a lot of apple juice. I usually never do any of these things. But fuck, man, this is what I do for art. I also worked last night and just woke up. It’s fucking late. I need to pick up my bike from my friend-who-has-no-sweat-glands’s house. That’s a truth. He was born without em. Apparently he can get his hands kind of sweaty if he squeezes a penny for a long time, because a few glands grew into his palm in the last few years, but otherwise, nope. Dry as a bone. I’ve talked about this before, I’m sure, but it’s always good to get new readers on the same page, yesno? Good. I should also go to the gym. Dumb smoking. It’s gross. I don’t believe I used to do that shit for fun.
Actually, it was more than fun. I smoked because I thought it looked cool. That’s the only reason anyone ever starts smoking and anyone who tells you otherwise is full of shit. You know why? Because there’s no other reason to start smoking. No non smoker ever was nervous and suddenly, out of nowhere decided that a cigarette would calm them down. That’s a tic brought on by addiction and/or socialization. No non smoker ever looked at someone wafting disgusting smoke at them after a meal and decided, ‘that really does look like it would make this dining experience complete.” The first time you ever smoke a cigarette, it makes you sick. The second time you smoke a cigarette, it makes you sick. There’s NO POINT where the flavor ever tastes good. Cigarettes taste like shit. You know that smell? It’s similar to that of burnt hair? That’s cigarettes, that’s also how they taste. They make you smell like shit, taste like an ashtray, look like a piece of beef jerky, die, and generally look like a neurotic turd who has to step out onto the porch every fifteen minutes to indulge your disgusting habit. AND, you CAN’T EVEN GET INTO IT WITHOUT GETTING SICK AND PRACTICING! It’s impossible to introduce poison to an organism and have it be a pleasurable experience. Only in repetition can cigarettes become enjoyable. And THAT, my friends, is why anyone who tells you that they smoke for any reason other than “I thought it looked cool” is just like someone who tells you they read playboy for the articles or goes to Thailand for the history of it all…full of shit. You know why people go to Thailand, right, dogs of war? Discuss in the sock drawer. Go ahead.
When my band, the Lawrence Arms, first started, we had this idea for a seven inch. We had the title picked out and we even knew what the cover was gonna be. We promised ourselves that our first seven inch would have this name and this cover. Well, we never did a seven inch (except for one that was part of a label series, which meant that the cover and the title were sort of more beholden to the big picture rather than our dumb ideas) and the whole thing kind of languished, and now, ten years later, in conjunction with our ten year anniversary show and subsequent west coast run (the first run in over 2 years), we’ve got our first real seven inch on our hands. And guess what? We fucking named it the name that we thought up ten years ago. That’s right, assholes. When we decided what our first seven inch was gonna be called, ‘a digital release’ sounded like some sort of futuristic way to blow your load using your computer, and yet this fucking record is gonna be released digitally with an extra song. That’s, again, right, asshats. You guys wanna know what it’s called? Do you? It’s called Buttsweat and Tears. Why? Well, for one thing, they’re the two most secreted liquids from the three of us over the last decade, but of course we didn’t know that would be the case when we thought up the title. We just thought it sounded tough, you know?
What? Sure it does. Sigh.
I’m out of here. Later, puds.