About Me
in the shed, recording, laughing, smoking cigarettes.
Head to the tracks to get noises, too cold and dangerous. familair house across and in sight.
Enter into a smokey heat, a girl on a couch strums a guitar, soothing, almost pre-psychadellic trip welcoming feelings of a smile, guy in living-other-open-room adds his own.
Pass over guitars, bass, amps, microphones, wires, into kitchen, drum kit set up next to stove, we play drums until jam ends and everyone is in the kitchen, six of us.
Smoke more grass and cigarettes and laugh.
showcase recorded songs to the house, start playing a set,
everyone sitting on the floor,
others periodically get up to play an instrument and add sound.
as time begins to hit early morning we leave with take cares, last cigarettes.
back through the cold, more laughing, paranoid plot ends and characters of our little town thrown around on the long walk home.POWER DOOM IS REAL & so & so & so through the smoldering wreck of those schoolyard blues, forcible authority excavations of the soul and endless knuckle rubbing madness sounds a rhythm swift-catching that's clamoured up into your pulse. Got in your hands and teeth and smiled that great tinkling love in twisted mass of magnetic tape, hazy sheer of beer breath and ash-stained fingers, a resin stain on your crimson red lighter.Eat my heart, take my pills, give us a kiss goodnight.
