Item of Interest Number 7 Michael J. Nelson

So, things have been boring on this side of the coin. Me and my current incarnation of a band, going by the inherited name "Two Words", are working on a Christmas-type collection of songs. Since we're both just guitarists, it's going to be kind of hard. We've been looking for a keyboardist, bassist, possibly a drummer, anything really, but nobody really wants to work with a group of quote "untalented and shockingly controlling bastards" like ourselves. We're not controlling at all, we're just so non-controlling that we refuse all control to a controlling point... if that makes any sense to you. I mean, we would be taking a more creative and traditional oriented path if we could find some people as admittedly untalented as ourselves to help. All the musicians in this area think they're the fucking top dog of their particular instrument of choice; we suck and we admit it. It's just hard to find people of the same ilk. If we weren't broke-ass bastards, we'd buy a keyboard, bass, drumkit and the whole works ourselves and just do all of the shit alone, but sadly we are indeed broke-ass bastards. I used to have a midi-sequencer, module, and controller, but they all got stolen at the last show of my last full band (which was also only the fourth show of said band). D'oh. Then my ghetto ass bass got stolen when I was guesting at a show. Double d'oh. It says a lot about the area's I used to frequent (and still sort of do, really). I remember back in the day when I was living in Maine and in a band called 'Slap me Twice', I gave my guitar away. Ok, so it wasn't as cut-and-dry as that. There's a story behind it, and here it is, transcribed to the best of my drug-hazed recollection:
I was hanging out in somebody's apartment after a cancelled gig and I had my guitar with me. So, I'm all trying to mac it to this chick and this kid sits on the other side of me on the couch and is asking all sorts of questions. Him: "You're in that band, dude? That's so cool. Yeah, me, I play a little. What kind of axe you got?" Me: "Ah, some piece of shit Fender rip"; Him: "Yeah, man, I feel that. For that gritty, realistic sound. Can't get that with those 'brand name' guitars."; Me: "It's more like that 'too poor to afford a better guitar' sound"; Him: "Got it with ya?"; Me: "Yeah, it's over there somewhere *motioning off in the general direction of where I thought it was*"; Him: "Cool, thanks dude*goes off to find it*". So, I went back to layin' the mac down. Eventually it started working. So, here I am making out with this chick, I'm fucked up on all sorts of drug/alcohol combinations, and he comes back. Him: "Hey, man"; Me: "*ignoring him and making out*"; Chick: "So, you wanna grab a room or something"; Me: "Yeah, let's *getting up*"; Him: "*stopping me* Dude, I gotta go. Can I borrow your guitar for tonight, man. I mean, Tony knows where I live, dude, I'll bring it back by here tomorrow, I swear, you can trust me"; Me: "Nah, man, I need it tomorrow. Supposedly got a gig and shit. Come by, though, I'll let ya use it"; Chick: "*getting all impatient*"; Him: "*whining* Please, man, please, I'll bring it back before the show, man, I promise. I fucking, I promise"; Girl: "*getting even more impatient*"; Me: "Dude, just fucking keep it, ok, man, just fucking keep it *taking chick into room*". The End.
Yeah, I gave my 'livelihood' away so I could hiz-it the skiz-ins. Turned out Tony (guy who rented the apartment) didn't even know the kid (and I myself didn't even know Tony). I heard he didn't even live in the same city but a 'rich town in the entire next county' (counties have more merit in places like Maine than they do to us Masshole's). So, some richie try-hard pad crasher out there probably still has the damn thing and probably tells the tale of how some cool music dude gave it to him. He obviously omits the parts about me being horribly ugly and him nearly cock-blocking me , of course. Hell, he probably says it was, like, the kid from Sum-41 or something. Either way, I hope it somehow causes his mom a terrible terrible cancer of the bowels or something. I don't really, but it was nice to say...  ¶ 1:36 AM 0 comments