Duh. I've just spent a couple of minutes checking out my options here. I realized that I wouldn't be able to post any links using my other template, so instead of editing that one--which I was not all that in love with anyway, like one could love one of these templates...I really should rewrite one someday when I have enough time to care about something like that after all the other things I should desparately be spending my time on...--I'm using one that has a sidebar.
My wife is turning 30 next week and so is going to leave me for three days alone with the kids for the first time. I'm making her go. Gotta wean Virgil (or V. Mars as we've come to start calling him, hoping it will stick) sometime, so why not now? She's worried that I'm going to have a hard time with it, like I want her to care about that...
Just went ahead and posted a 'bass player available' ad on our local bulletin board. Got tons of responses the first couple of hours, two of which will most likely turn into one-offs. The rest of them were congratulations upon returning to music and the rest were friends giving me shit about posting. Har Har Har. Yeah, my desparate plea for cash cannot but be construed to be the yelping of a trapped coyote, leg nearly bitten off from fear of capture and permanent vacation to Camp X-Ray.
So yeah, I'm looking for work, even to the point of asking friends who I am already sure don't have gigs for me to help me out. Music. Fuck that shit.
But boy, are my kids cute. Hazle has been deeply into the poetry thing today. In the tub, she's yelling at us to listen to her poetry, which she preludes with a "And here's another Poetry..." All her rhymes are exquisite, but made up of incorrectly-used words, which doesn't matter to me at all, but Random House probably would get out the red pencil and make a travesty of them in the editing.
This morning: Joy to the soup. Joy to the whole group.
Virgil is still channeling my dead brother in the guitar department. His new ukelele playing technique is unstoppable, even if he wasn't 17 months old. It is truly uncanny. Everybody who knew Derek says he's being made fun of by God. He had such a rotten time (and made so many of us at least slightly miserable if not near-suicidal) while he was here that he's being reincarnated as a fucking guitar player. Har Har Har.
My wife is turning 30 next week and so is going to leave me for three days alone with the kids for the first time. I'm making her go. Gotta wean Virgil (or V. Mars as we've come to start calling him, hoping it will stick) sometime, so why not now? She's worried that I'm going to have a hard time with it, like I want her to care about that...
Just went ahead and posted a 'bass player available' ad on our local bulletin board. Got tons of responses the first couple of hours, two of which will most likely turn into one-offs. The rest of them were congratulations upon returning to music and the rest were friends giving me shit about posting. Har Har Har. Yeah, my desparate plea for cash cannot but be construed to be the yelping of a trapped coyote, leg nearly bitten off from fear of capture and permanent vacation to Camp X-Ray.
So yeah, I'm looking for work, even to the point of asking friends who I am already sure don't have gigs for me to help me out. Music. Fuck that shit.
But boy, are my kids cute. Hazle has been deeply into the poetry thing today. In the tub, she's yelling at us to listen to her poetry, which she preludes with a "And here's another Poetry..." All her rhymes are exquisite, but made up of incorrectly-used words, which doesn't matter to me at all, but Random House probably would get out the red pencil and make a travesty of them in the editing.
This morning: Joy to the soup. Joy to the whole group.
Virgil is still channeling my dead brother in the guitar department. His new ukelele playing technique is unstoppable, even if he wasn't 17 months old. It is truly uncanny. Everybody who knew Derek says he's being made fun of by God. He had such a rotten time (and made so many of us at least slightly miserable if not near-suicidal) while he was here that he's being reincarnated as a fucking guitar player. Har Har Har.
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