sandy

And lo! we did sit in House of Doc's hot tub drinking out of oversized beer bottles, and it was good. I don't want to get into the physics of it, but constant steam and heat interacts with alcohol in a very subtle, poignant way, gently leading one to a new state of consiousness; the kind of consiousness that makes it difficult to put on one's pants in a gentlemanly fashion. Manager Vince was there, and as always had wise and illuminating tidbits to drop into our eager ears. For instance, apparently there's a pornographic movie called 'Schindler's Fist'. All other True Details are kind of spotty, though I have on good authority that Matthew Harder (www.houseofdoc.com) and I found the answer to all of humanity's biggest cosmological and spiritual concerns (!). But then I finished the big beer and forgot it. Sorry humanity, my bad.

I'd 'blog' more but I have to go feed my cheetah, Mothra.

The other day, my amplifier farted a blue spark, then pissed out a bunch of electrical smoke and then crapped on my feelings. It hurts your feelings when something that you thought you knew, and you thought knew you, breaks the single rule (see BLOG #2).

I am using a temporary replacement who I've named Leviathan, and he's proven useful, but it's like taking your wife to a hospital and then grabbing a random 'loaner' from the waiting room. It might provide a cheap thrill, but in the end you worry about the legality.

So lately we've been trying to think of 'music video' ideas, because, apparently, they immediately make people ludicrously wealthy and famous. Yes, please! Unfortunately I haven't really watched a video with any kind of partiality since I was 17, and I don't know what they're supposed to be like anymore, particularly if the video is for a band and not for a large man with a husky voice hollering aggressively about actually striking a woman.

Jason's been vocal about his ideas so far (eg. Chaucer's 'The Canterbury Tales' re-enacted by Dutch babies), but my single contribution has fallen on deaf ears. I guess people just aren't ready for a music video whose only visuals are the music notes and lyrics of the song on the screen, and whose only audio is the lovely Susan Sarandon describing random images that one may find in a 'normal' video. Now, just because this idea is too ... advanced for a cute little band like Quinzy doesn't mean some fancy-pants artistes can take it for their own. I'm looking at you Sigur Ros.

One final soul-searching question: Will I ever stop being shocked by fanny packs?

We are back from 'The Big Smokey', or the T-Comma, or whatever. I will allow the other gentlemen (in the band) to annoint you with dripping tales of amazing feats of merriment unbridled by judgement or wisdom. I am just popping in to say to all Quinzy-watchers that the trip went well, very well, and the things that we had set out to do have been done. The next year and a half is going to be a very large one for this little band, and it is now Official Truth that come May we will be back in Toronto to begin cobbling together a new album. Of music. Thank you to the surprisingly ample and zesty crowd at the Horseshoe for bringing the love.