Puttin' On The Ritz

More sophisticated by the second, etc.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

On Faking The Funk, etc.

So, check this out. Earlier today I was totally hanging out in this 5 dimensional plane, which is sort of weird because things are perpendicular in ways that would totally blow your mind. I kept falling over and I wasn't even drunk. I was chilling with some natives and they turned me on to some really heavy shit. Stereo doesn't even begin to describe it. Then I made some calls and then Puttin' On The Ritz played.

March 22, 2005 -- Glasshouse, Brooklyn
Apparently Sexy Thoughts was supposed to play, but Kevin thought it would be more satisfying if The Ritz (Shahin kept talking about The Ritz, and I have to admit to being super psyched about being referred to in that manner. Much the same as I dig people calling me The Beej, which people do almost instinctively without even knowing that I super love it. Something about the word the in front of it just makes it transcendental, although I'm not quite sure what is being transcended. Just load up the bong or something and humor me) played instead. Was that tangent too verbose? Just load up the bong and humor me. Whilst you are humoring me, maybe you can riddle me this. Why do people think it is a good idea to throw shit at us when we are playing? I mean, I don't make announcements or anything. I believe my pants currently have banana residue on the crotch. We realized that we don't even need a drum kit anymore; setting up with total garbage is sufficient. The banana was totally Kevin's fault -- he was eating it, putting it in some sort of case (which appeared to be designed for it, although I cannot imagine anyone manufacturing banana cases, despite how lucrative a venture it might be), and tossing it about. Everyone seemed psyched, which is a bit of a rarity for us. I broke character in that I had a smirk on my face, although my character is really only me playing myself in a weird band. If you have any questions, fax them to me and I will make sure to meditate on them for a week before passing out. Actually, I might break that promise. Don't look to me for salvation; I can never be your Richard Nixon. Pass the salt, etc.


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