SO FRANTIC SO FRANTIC SO FRANTIC!! GAH!
It feels like every Tuesday is like this, but I like it, the mayhem
is almost relaxing. Tuesday is gig night – BWaHWaGWa... at the
Rochester. I've just done about an hour of sending messages out to
people to book spots and MCs and make sure the events on google
calendar are up to date so we don't have nights like a few weeks ago
when our MC pulled out. It's 4:08. I'm about to leave the house with
the poster I printed yesterday and head to the Rochy with flyers and
start hitting the street. I feel like I'm about to leap out of my
skin.
Good developments today though; I just swapped my Wednesday morning cleaning shift to Tueday, which also pays twenty-five dorra more than the Wednesday for what I consider a negligible amount of extra work. BONUS DING DING. That switch though, means that I can hang out at the Roch for as long as I desire now, every Tuesday. So we can actually make this a 'stay and hang out' thing. Good for business. Good for culture. Good for developing the crew.
Phil just sent me the link for Mark Ronson's Boiler Room Mix... yes yes and yes son, that was a fucking great mix. Fit the mood perfectly. I thought Mark Ronson was some club-house DJ, so when he dropped The World is Yours off Illmatic with some cruisy space-beat behind it I lost my fucking mind... not just a few words from the hook either, THE WHOLE VERSE. Yes oh yes oh yes. And Wu Tang, and Action Bronson, and loads of others that I've forgotten. Some of the whirrs and whistles freaked me out a bit though, but I guess that's just what happens in LIFE! Your favourite songs get interrupted by mic-feedback and you go, “Dude, what are you even doing? Was that intentional? Did that even come from the music? Is my phone ringing? Why do I have chopsticks on my bedside table?”
Shit's tough.
I just got distracted... god damn it. New Mission: Don't get distracted. I'm going to leave now. Off to paint the streets red with blood. ('paint' = 'stand on'; 'red with blood' = 'and hand out flyers') Okay? Okay. Lovely.
Peace, Taco.
Good developments today though; I just swapped my Wednesday morning cleaning shift to Tueday, which also pays twenty-five dorra more than the Wednesday for what I consider a negligible amount of extra work. BONUS DING DING. That switch though, means that I can hang out at the Roch for as long as I desire now, every Tuesday. So we can actually make this a 'stay and hang out' thing. Good for business. Good for culture. Good for developing the crew.
Phil just sent me the link for Mark Ronson's Boiler Room Mix... yes yes and yes son, that was a fucking great mix. Fit the mood perfectly. I thought Mark Ronson was some club-house DJ, so when he dropped The World is Yours off Illmatic with some cruisy space-beat behind it I lost my fucking mind... not just a few words from the hook either, THE WHOLE VERSE. Yes oh yes oh yes. And Wu Tang, and Action Bronson, and loads of others that I've forgotten. Some of the whirrs and whistles freaked me out a bit though, but I guess that's just what happens in LIFE! Your favourite songs get interrupted by mic-feedback and you go, “Dude, what are you even doing? Was that intentional? Did that even come from the music? Is my phone ringing? Why do I have chopsticks on my bedside table?”
Shit's tough.
I just got distracted... god damn it. New Mission: Don't get distracted. I'm going to leave now. Off to paint the streets red with blood. ('paint' = 'stand on'; 'red with blood' = 'and hand out flyers') Okay? Okay. Lovely.
Peace, Taco.
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