Dusted.

I’m having one of those “Oh God,why do you keep kicking my ass?” days.

Food poisoning again. Again people. I am taking that as a sign from Elvis that I need to go on another fast.So I am.I’m still too fucking fat anyway and as we all know rock’n’roll does not shine its light upon the chunky unless it is to smote you with a bathtub drowning in Paris or a sandwich choking in London.Just sayin’…The evidence is all there,do your homework you heathens…where was I?…oh yeah,crapping out a kidney….. Lay in bed with my bones melting and sweating like a junkie. Lilli White-tiger brought me a big ol’ bottle of Sprite that I have been living on for the past two days. My old roommate in Long Beach is getting a new roommate and wants to know when I can get my stuff out of there and understandably so.My breathtakingly divine purple lined snakeskin boots and adored paper thin Creem magazine tee shirt amongst other treasures .Sigh. The last time I left LA I thought I would be going back…..oh well, time to try and find the worlds cheapest freight company.

Only really doing this because I had a call from the distant and white dusted mountains.Not in a Led Zeppelin kinda way either.Literally. Miss Suzanne of the Tundras dropped the dime in snow shrouded Canada and told my pool dwelling,honey tanned butt to get with the program.I tend not to get online for days at this point in the fable and I don’t feel that I am missing much but how smashing to know that I and my addled ranting is missed.And no.I am not being sarcastic.

This is a muscle that I need to flex more.My brain is becoming more cranky with atrophy by the day.Every time I write a shit storm seems to happen.I must press on.I also need to stop playing along to Black Sabbath when I am meant to be playing Saint Cecilia stuff. Got band practice tomorrow.At least I wont be crapping myself behind my amp.Literally.Me and seafood are not on speaking terms right now.

Speaking of my beloved chlorinated puddle,Date-rape (The roommates new moniker) was out there all day sinking cat piss with one of his equally moronic friends clad in generic board-shorts, a choking miasma of boundless ignorance and deepening crows feet.Bastards.He only ever smirks at me when he had company.Someone to hide behind.With the way my temper has been flaring of late I would have cleaned both their clocks could I have been bothered .This conundrum lead to me staying in my room all day breaking in my awe inspiring new suede boots while playing my bass while clad in a bikini.Naturally.My new riff  du jour is oddly reminiscent of something Hendrix-y but as that ain’t a bad thing I am gonna keep it.

The man did up and die on my birthday after all so I chose to think of it as a homage.Ner.

I am still reeling from the epiphany that befell me on Xmas day.That’s right you heretics,an epiphany.Elvis came to me, high as a fucking kite mind, and said “Michele,get thy ass on a cos-play website and dress like a Japanese school girl as frequently as possible.” God only knows what drugs Dr Nickolopoulos is pumping into the King up yonder at that big old Graceland in the sky ( I’m thinking Demerol? ) But far be it from me to question the King.

A dude almost fell of the edge of the train platform when he saw me all gussied up in my uniform.And I have a school bag. I think its a romantic thing for me as I got ejected from formal education so early in the piece. Or I’m just a pervert. Who can say really?

So its New Years eve and I am alone in the house.Outside I can hear the inebriated toothless crackers setting off illegal fireworks in the street and acting like a pack of fucking yahoos.Bless. It sounds like the Tet Offensive out there.And don’t forget the burnouts in their hotted up flatbed trucks.I love suburbia.Imagine the city and shudder in thy shoes gentle reader.All those pissed fat chicks in unwise bandage dresses three seasons out of date and brainless rugby players.I shudder. A cloud of lynx deodorant hovers and its vodka and red bull vomit all the ho- ha way home.No bloody thank you.

The year tends to wrap itself up in the most interesting ways…..My felonious ex amour called me the other night from a van hurtling through the snow somewhere in Ohio as he is on tour with Clutch and Wino over the festive season. It felt like old times.One of us always on the road. He is in good spirits and playing great shows. That makes me happy. He asked after my health and I told him about my stupid knee. He laughed and said in that voice that has always managed to touch me in places I don’t even wash  “I know how that happened bunny….” My cartilage begins to throb as I trip my way haltingly down memory lane……

I can’t even remember what country we were in let alone the town but its was all European and cobblestones.Quaint.Smelt like smoked meat and papery history.  The problem with touring is the 23 hours that you are not on stage. To cut a long story short we broke the bed. I mean we shattered its poor pine self to toothpicks.We didn’t stop and I came like the gang busters with one of my mouthwatering gams wedged between two rather unforgiving splintered slats. Combat fucking at its finest people.Unfortunately my left knee copped the brunt of it.My lad looked so very smug when I limped onto the stage a few hours later to sing “Four Corners”.It took all we had to not completely crease up laughing…..

“I remember that!” I snorted.We said our goodbyes,hung up and I felt rather sweet with it all.

I then proceeded to wander off to take photos of my butt on my outdated phone.Everyone needs a hobby.

Happy new year fuckers.