Give Our Regards To Broadway, etc.

Greetings and salutations, etc. We've been sleeping it off, or something to that effect, anyway. We were supposed to play some shows that didn't really happen for one reason or another, but did result in Kevin and myself getting into a bit of a tiff. These things are to be expected, I suppose. Fear not, we have moved on to greener pastures, so to speak. Mainly we resolved to be a little more mellow about the whole thing, which is why there was a little bit of a gap between shows and posts and so on and so forth, etc. This is all to say, what's up.

January 21, 2005 -- The Llano Estacado, Brooklyn
So this was the pre-opening party, as to call it the proper opening party might be a bit of an overstatement. I viewed the bathroom installation, which transpired somewhere between 9 and 10pm. I even helped put up the curtain of sorts, which consisted of hanging a bunch of garbage bags from the ceiling. We were not in the bill. We had not asked to play. Kevin and I had discussed potentially performing, but he had a show in Hell's Kitchen and thus did not want to commit to anything. I also did not care to. Dirty Projectors went on somewhere around 11:30pm, much to the dismay of many, as that is quite a late hour to begin a show. Aa followed, along with Big Bear and Parts and Labor. Around 2am Kevin telephoned to alert me to the fact that he was at his apartment, and that if it wasn't too late we could still play. I asked Todd, and it was on, apparently. We set up in front of the stage and asked BJ Warshaw to announce us after Parts and Labor finished. A crowd of approximately 50 or so people were there, maybe. It was 3am and my vision might have been impaired. It was a more casual set, as we had not really planned on playing. That is to say that I didn't bring any ties and Kevin ruined the only one he owns when we played in the ocean. I also had not brought any lyrics, so we had an empty music stand sitting in front of us that may or may not have been knocked over several times by myself or one of our comrades. The floor was filthy and slippery, so I was sliding around and falling over and doing my best to have a good time and/or put on a good show. I think some people walked out on us, but that might have been simply because it was so late. I refuse to accept that they left because they were displeased. Well, maybe. The microphone would occasionally stop carrying my voice through the speakers, and thus I was forced to scream at the top of my lungs. Quite draining, really. In between every song Mr. Roy Styles would scream "One more!" Nice. Not a bad way to end an evening; not a bad way to start the year. I hope that wherever you were, whatever you were doing, you were well. Especially if you were actually there. Goodnight, Gracie.

Julius Caesar, etc.

Occasionally when a television show or a newspaper columnist or whatever is taking a week off, they will air or print a "classic" episode (also known as a rerun). Since you can read everything that has ever been printed here, I thought I'd do something a little different. New shows will be airing soon, but in the meantime, sit back, drink some whiskey (or your alcoholic beverage of choice, although I still recommend whiskey), and do whatever it is you do whilst reading your computer screen.

March 15, 2067 -- Shea Stadium, Queens
It is always nice to play a local show, it seems like we're always playing various backwaters of the solar system these days. The money is good, but I miss my friends. Plus, I get to take my jetpack to the show, my preferred method of travel. Membership does have its privileges, whatever that means. Anyway, Kevin just finished recovering from some extensive plastic surgery (we insist on looking our best, so he got some liposuction, a nosejob, and a penile implant [for the ladies, we do love the ladies]), so it has been a little while since we've played. The hometown crowd was, as always, the best. Chris Fuller, after spending the last 63 years claiming he was going to see us play (and failing to do so every single time), finally turned up. I made sure he got shitty seats, as it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. It sort of made me nostalgic for the days when we got really wasted for our shows, Kevin and I made pretty righteous asses of ourselves quite a bit in those days. But, I mean, after going through rehab and whatnot, you sort of have to keep sober. Plus, I am pregnant again, after all. Anyway, if you weren't there, you probably watched it on television, so I'm not going to recount our setlist or how killer we were. I'm getting a little older now and playing for four hours straight is getting a little tiresome, but people just can't seem to get enough. I guess when you're president of the galaxy, people watch your band. I don't know, I've been president for so long that I can barely remember what it was like when we played places like Tommy's Tavern. Plus, we were pretty wasted, remember? Anyway, I'm not really sure what the point is of this blog anymore, everything we do is pretty well documented so I'm not sure what more I have to say about it. I know everyone wants to hear it from the horse's mouth, but I don't even write the damn things anymore. Right now I'm lying down and being fed the occasional grape by one of my many mistresses whilst dictating to an intern. I mean, it just doesn't have the same sense of immediacy anymore. I still can't tell if I sold out or not. I mean, was I ever really all that innocent, all that pure? I fell from grace long before this band ever started, for better or worse. What more is there to say? Are we just going through the motions? I mean, we're still the finest band in the land, but does it matter anymore? What happened to our passion, our humanity? Is there any reason to beware the Ides of March, anymore?

Hugs And Kisses, etc.

Happy new year, my friends. If you are not our friend, happy new year anyway. I'm not going to get uptight about it. I sincerely apologize to all our fans that we were unable to play a show last night, we would have loved to. Kevin Shea decided that it would be in his best interests to be in Memphis, Tennessee, apparently. I have little to no control over the man; he is, essentially, a loose cannon. I will admit to hitting the bottle a bit last night, as I'm sure many of you did as well. It was amateur night, which I typically try to steer clear of (who really wants to play open mics? Not I, not I), but I could not resist celebrating. 2004 was a good year for us, as you might very well know if you keep yourself updated with this thing. 2005 promises to be even better, more ridiculous, more crazed, more nude. Well, maybe not more nude. Time will tell with that one. Just keep your eyes peeled, it will be hard to miss us. We plan on being everywhere, doing everything, all the fucking time. There will be no stopping us, so to speak. If you don't like it, tough. It is not for you to enjoy, it is for you to endure. Hugs and kisses from the POTR HQ, etc.