Rippinest Town Pt I

Imagine the worst U2 song you can possibly imagine, multiply that by ten and then have Jack Johnson sing background vocals while wearing six thousand white UMASS baseball hats at once outside of a Starbucks. That is what my third solo album will sound like.

Flew into Boston a few hours ago and as usual, at least the five years or so, I always play Radiohead on the headphones for the last half hour or so. I mysteriously don’t have Kid A on my iPod for whatever reason. I was somehow able to avoid taking them off throughout the whole landing. I mean really, would a person listening to an iPod REALLY mess up a landing, I hate that rule.



Imagine the worst possible Bob Seger song, but sung from the top of the Washington Monument, which is now covered in swastikas and portraits of John McCain. At the end of the song a gigantic bald eagle swoops down over the crowd and vomits the blood of every single Goddamned fucking Iraqi baby all over everyone. This is what I want the music to play right after I kill someone if I ever get to kill a human being at some point. Like if there was an apocalypse or I was attacked, not just a random deal.

Oh yeah so Radiohead on the plane, good times. I spent the majority of the trip listening to Mouth of the Architect who I can’t get enough of right now. I have been in that mopey mood lately and listening to them and Mono, Explosions in the Sky, Mogwai, etc. I think I have had my fill of delay pedals at this point. I also jammed the new Converge, Daughters and...I can’t remember. Oh Interpol. Maybe I should get out more and stop being such a fucking pussy.

Imagine the worst possible Her Space Holiday album cover divided by the pattern on your current girlfriend’s shower curtain multiplied by seven. Now imagine wearing a sweater that looks like that.

So the flight was fine for the most part. I used to bring multiple books and magazines, etc and then realized the best way to make the trip go fast is to not sleep at all the night before and then play music in your head and fall asleep. This works for me, although I did read for a few minutes. Man this book is intense (especially the piece on Billy Eckstine), check it out if you’re a music person, or pop culture person.

Imagine the worst Kanye West song you could ever imagine hearing, which is pretty much any of them, now imagine the song is being played through speakers made of Lady Gaga’s skin, which was just removed in front of a classroom full of Mexican children who have no idea who their father is. This is the type of music I would like to hear right before I jump off a bridge.

I can’t write much more as the battery on this laptop is almost done. I left the power supply at a hotel in Grover Beach, CA over the weekend and am having it Fed Ex’d to here in Massachusetts. I hope it comes tomorrow; I at least need to write a few hours a day, mostly just nothing, to myself, but it makes the day go better. Today on the plane I briefly wrote in the notepad thing on my iPhone and then realized how ridiculous it was and went back to sleep.



I guess I’ll get back to complaining about women or how my Joy Division CD's got scratched or whatever tomorrow.