Aw man! I can't believe it's an entire day late! How many loyal fans have I crushingly dissappointed by my absence!
(checks pageview counter)
. . . none. . . maybe one or two. . .
I can't tell if I'm depressed or relieved.
I'll go with deprieved. I am very deprieved right now.
Mainly because "repressed" is already taken.
Maybe I'm just irritated and dispondant.
Irrispondant? I guess I'm feeling a little irrispondant right now.
Or maybe I'm just feeling repressed and incapable.
That would make me . . .
. . .
Actually, no. I'm not repressed and incapable
. . .
And now for something completely different:
If some 25-year-old raging dickweed with an Arts Degree can do it, so can I!
"Like listening to wallpaper." I cannot take credit for that quote. I also can't promote it enough. It's just perfect.
You can have nice wallpaper, though.
Listening feels like a workout at the gym. Difficult, requiring concentration, and generally only for the dedicated. You can work up a bit of a sweat, too.
He obviously wakes up every morning, writes down whatever happened in his crazy-ass dreams, and uses them as lyrics. Listening is like having pink cotton wool stuffed in your ears.
Like listening to the colour black. And all the boring sameyness that goes with a single colour. Can be used as hormone therapy to counteract the effects of chronic outbursts of "joy".
Sounds like the noise a computer would make if it could orgasm. A sexy-lady-type computer, too. Not one of those horrible fat windows '95 things.
. . .
Finally, in a segment you've all come to recognise as shameless phoning-it-in . . .
Crappy Names! The Third And Final Chapteruntilwemakeanotheronetocashin.
Beattie "Bea" Oich
. . .
Fuck. That's it. I'm all out. Go through the suggestions page of your YouTube homepage until you find an awesome new band or something . . .