We just recorded our 20 second song for that 20 second Song Compilation. Apparently we're going to be on there with a bunch (US MAPLE, JIM ROURKE, DON CABELLERO, SICBAY) of bands that a) we have totally god-like respect for or b) we're way better than and only a cruel and capricious god granted them the meager bounty of the fucking indie fame that we despise but secretly lust after (take your pick).

Dan bought a $6 clock, marked off 20 second segments with 10 second breaks between them and we began recording. Three hours later we were finished. Allowing for bullshit time we recorded about 50 takes.

"Bring Me the Head of Sausage Garcia!" I apologize in advance for the rather broad, ham-handed seemingly absurdist attempt at humor but I've grown increasingly obsessed with sausages as of late. Sausages as a food stuff. Sausages as sex surrogates. Sausages as active verbs. Perhaps because I'm doing very unorthodox stuff dietetically speaking. i'll stop eating for three days straight. Nothing but water (do this and you get cold...so cold). I'll eat a bunch of chinese herbs. Or nothing but tuna. I do this because I've been doing some competitive fighting and wanted to fight at light heavyweight. That would be 202 pounds versus my steroid heavy 265. Losing 63 pounds in 13 months makes the sausage holy. Believe me. Fucking three times a year does that too, but that's an entirely different story.

It's just we've grown tired of men. Men in sneakers. Men smoking cigarettes. Men collecting records. Men talking about the records they collect. Men in skirts or in leather jocks still have the power to entertain but that's the point, see?

We appreciate things generally and widely these days from an entertainment perspective and the production values for the average dude just ain't what they used to be. Not any better for the average woman (average sort of smears into this general sameness) but the sensibility is a little more sensible. They're also more likely to ask if we're having a nice day in the course of doing business and this is always nice. Anyway, despite the fact that they're lying, fucking, bullshitting cocksuckers, we finished our song and sent it on.

Note: Sausage casings are MUCH more comfortable than condoms.

End Note: CD repeat play has made monomania just that much easier.