Well, fuck, finally.

Remember how I joined up with a couple of musicians about three months ago to remake one of my worktape songs?

Well, Brian Wilson (aka Genius Dude) has finally released a cut.

I don’t think he considers it anywhere near a finished demo-quality (he wants to redo the drums), and the singer may want to redo his vocals, but, yay, I have something to play to people. You people.

I’m just stoked that my guitar is present in places. I get to kick it off electric-styles and finish acoustic, but it’s subdued in most other places to make way for some real guitar playing, which is Genius Dude’s.

I’m pleased. Those who heard the original work tape should be impressed by the improvement.

Here you go:

D-Man: (Yelling over the music) “These guys rock!”
New Guy: “Yeah!”
D-Man: “But really, they only have one thing that we don’t have.”
New Guy: “A cowboy hat?”
D-Man: “No, I have one of those…”
New Guy: “Well … what?”
D-Man: “A smoke machine. If we can score one of those, we’ll be on our mother-fucking way.”

(Later)
New Guy: “You have a cowboy hat?”
D-Man: “Yeah. I used to be a cowboy.”
New Guy: “Gay! Haven’t you seen that movie about those gay cowboys who can’t quit each other? Gay! Totally Gay!”
D-Man: “You just want my hat, don’t you?”

Watching professional bands is exciting, but it can also be a little depressing when you realize how far removed your own D-lusional talents are from theirs.

A lot of annoyances in my work and personal life have been trying to beat me down lately, trying to take my upside down frown and turn it… err…. upside down … trying to kill this creative flow I’ve been going with, but I think I’m managing to keep those forces and those voices that keep reminding me that I’m crap at bay. Just five minutes ago I finished yet another song, which I’ll probably put up next week some time.

I can’t let this go, because it’s about the only passion I have left.

Ohhhhh … Major Update: I finally have broadband!

It’s third world by international standards and it took four days of being on hold and dealing with Telecunts in Papa New Guinea and having a technician come out to inform us that the account hadn’t been set up properly at their end in the first fucking place, but, fine-al-ee. Rock On!

Now I can finally look at all those podcasts and U-tube postings and donkey porn clips that you broadband veterans keep sending me.

Rock.

On.