My alarm went off this morning, and was answered by a round of cursing which could only be described as encyclopedic. I'm not particularly a morning person anyway, never mind the morning after I've consumed a staggering amount of tryptophan. I count myself lucky, though, because with all that's going on in this economy, I have a job that requires I work the day after Thanksgiving. And it doesn't hurt that I'm also not at the mall being shot or pepper sprayed by idiots who are willing to injure others in order to get half off an Xbox. It's a goddamn TOY, stupid. Get some perspective.
This weekend sees the completion of my (and Finn's) move to the Woo. Most everything has been packed up in boxes. we're getting a moving truck to get everything we can out tomorrow, and then getting the last of it and cleaning up on Sunday. Considering the difficulty I've had with the landlord (oh yeah, he never did fix the toilet, garbage disposal, front door, porch light, or leak in the roof), I'm not holding my breath to get the security deposit back. Which doesn't mean I'm not got going to try and collect it. I think he knows by now that I'm fairly well versed on the laws in this regard.
But that's not what I'm concentrating on. I'm focused on the move, settling in, and keeping things rolling in the right direction. I've been offered a short solo set in December (details to follow), and I'm adding more songs to my repertoire. I'm definitely being influenced by guys like Frank Turner and Chuck Ragan, not to mention Billy Bragg. My song choices most certainly veer towards classic punk and alternative. I know that's not necessarily groundbreaking, but I've never claimed to be any kind of pioneer. I like what I like.
And today, for those of you keeping score at home, is day 180 without a drink. Six months. This calls for a song.
Happy weekend...
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