Psyche!

Hey dicks. No baby yet, thanks for the good words though. I’m actually just hanging out with my family on our last bit of time as a three piece. It’s nice and relaxing. BUT, I’m not just kicking my legs up and having pina coladas.

I got us a great support band for the benefit show over there at Subterranean just like I promised y’all I would. It’s San Fran’s own Dead To Me!!!!!! How bout that shit, folks? It’s their first proper show in Chicago in four years! No, don’t thank me. thank a violent, horrible world that forces good folks to come together to make everything seem like it’s not just an inevitable doom spiral that ends in plague and death. That’s right, y’all! If it wasn’t for terrible, terrible things, this unprecedented event wouldn’t be happening so…uh…wait. Never mind that whole line of thinking.

I’m just excited to see DTM and play with them. Arrhythmic palpitations is one of my favorite songs of all time. I knew this was gonna be a cool show, because if time has shown me one thing, it’s that no one comes together for a party when a party is needed like Chicago area TLA fans, but man, having Dead to Me be willing to show up and do this for free, man, that’s pretty radical. We’re lucky folks over here, kids.

I know what you’re thinking: “What the fuck? Dead to Me is amazing and everything, but what about a Chicago band? Are we not coming together as a city? Well, don’t think I didn’t think of that you wise asses. That’s why Chicago’s own Blind Staggers are gonna be starting the evening off the way only they know how to do, which is to say drunkenly and with a sweede playing drums while a bunch of hillbillies ‘shoot the moon’ or whatever it is that country musicians do. Shit. Look, point is, this is gonna be an awesome night. Be there or cry. Those are your options.

Now, as promised:

When I was seventeen, I was out smoking pot with my friends Eric and Billy. It was A Sunday evening and we were in one of our favorite spots, which was a wooded area that surrounded the eastern shore of the Lagoon just north of Lincoln Park Zoo (it’s since been mostly deforested). This area was notable because it not only featured young pot smokers looking to sit around and laugh at the reflections of the skyscrapers in the filthy black oily pool that is the lagoon, but it also featured dudes who liked to walk around and give/receive anonymous blowjobs to/from each other. This made for some really amazing moments.

Imagine Billy and Eric and I staggering out of some bushes all stoned only to see a lonely fifty something with a yellow handkerchief dangling from his hand, standing shirtless in the midst of this underbrush next to a filthy mattress that someone had so kindly hauled down to facilitate blowjob giving/receiving. Would the lonely man raise his eyebrows in anticipation of an unforeseen windfall of youthful sensuality? Would the three stoned teenagers laugh out loud? Would there be awkwardness? Would this happen around about every third bend? You get the idea. It was a real gas.

So anyway, they were building the Nature Museum at this time and we decided to climb the construction fence and stop leading on all the creepy old cruisers. So, we went down and sat in the crane and hotboxed the bulldozer cabin and shit like that. Then, for whatever reason, we all took turns peeing into the big orange Gatorade cooler that was obviously there to provide water to the construction workers during the hottest months of summer. When I think back on that now, I’m so revolted with myself. After all, these were honest, hard working dudes who were in the midst of putting together something truly worthwhile: a nature museum, and we, just to make each other laugh, peed in their water cooler. Not cool.

Really, really funny at the time though.

Um…so, on the very off chance that you’re out there, construction guys, sorry. That was shitty. I’m trying to fix things on a galactic scale by helping these girls that got beaten with the bats. It’s kind of my duty, right? Sure it is.

Um, what else is there? I dunno. Can’t wait for this baby, kids. She’s gonna be something. We’re either gonna name her “Sock,” “Sock Drawer” or “Dog of War.”

Just so you guys know, I’m naming my kid after you. That’s how much I love you over here.

Okay, enough bullshitting.
From BSC world HQ on the top of Mount Kilimanjaro, I’m out!