There are no such things as ghosts....unless your band is named "Woodpecker." I have come to the conclusion that we are all of us, quite dead. I hope there will be a resurrection at least of one of us. I'd be pleased with the resurrection of a house plant at this point. Hello? There was a tapp-a, tapp-a, tapping coming from a woodpecker on the side of my apartment building this morning as I lay contemplating my unwilling exclusion from life. It was as if the woodpecker was taunting me that he, at least, was still making music. I plan to eat his heart out with a toothpick. I'm writing a new song. A song about printing things at the library. It's unfulfilling. I suspect the ebb and flow of insanity will take care of all these things in time. We none of us like to be left alone for too long pondering why our knee caps are dissolving and our hair is turning gray. Happy Birthday Nathan. Or rather, what should have been your birthday but you instead spent wallowing in the hauntings of your former life. A slow dirge for Woodpecker! For the hills are alive with the sound of nothing, nothing, nothing.
I moved to Houston so now we can have band practice regularly or something. We had it today only bassman couldn't make it. We plan to cover him in Jell-O and release the bees....bzzzzzzzzzzzzz whilst singing "Hey Mr. Bassman." Because we respect him!!!! So today we were just "woodpe..." 3/4 of a quartet is not quite right. It's like the Mad Hatter's Tea Party without bacon. I can't play the songs that I wrote. I can't really play guitar. Why? Ryan had a fancy new shirt on that was metro stamped and approved. I discovered that I am not quite a hipster. Just a hipst really.I do not currently own a pair of Toms. Billy bangs drums like a hardcore 1980s body builder. I heart heart heart him with all the big hair I can muster. MUSTARD!!!! We worked on a new song called "Bad to Blue" it sounded pretty good. I have feet. Because Ryan is now a scienterracidalhomonym and goes to this special little club, Billy and I have learned to respect the law. No bank heists for us in the near future :( However it is possible we have a show on March 2nd. It's not probable though. We may need to scout for Thanksgiving aluminum foil remnants to bribe the venue. I can't wait. Wait....pssssh whatever! This blog is approved by Bruce Springsteen. He's my dad.
I miss my kitteh.
10.26.2011 So how does it all come together you might ask? Well I'll tell you. REALLY, REALLY SLOWLY!!!!! Hi I'm Val by the way, the significant/insignificant lone female/non-alcoholic of Woodpecker. I spent last week in Houston being tortured to death by my fellow band mates. We were finishing up the demo that we started 5,000 years ago...or last summer...whatever. I was locked in a cold room with Ryan and two ill-tempered and needy chihuahuas and made to sing like a happy banshee the words "shoop, shoop" over and over until I got it right. I was never allowed to sleep; my captors had an affinity for torturing ladies of whimsy, like myself, and sad to say there was no reprieve, no hope for Val. But did I cry? You bet your ass I did. Every night. In moments of deepest despair I consoled myself with scullery maid duties and the consumption of corn dogs. Nathan arrived every evening to sing wild renditions as loudly as possible of 1990s 10,000 Maniacs songs dressed as Natalie Merchant. Why? I was told to give myself alcohol poisoning and snort pixie dust if Iknew what was good for me. If only I'd died mid-week. Truman played "good cop" and allowed me to have one solitary night's sleep while Ryan was running naked and crazed through the forest for an evening. Completion of the "recording session" was delayed by not one, not two, but three armed transexual penguins. There are some things you can never be prepared for. I was released but for how long? I just don't know. I'd like to be remembered for my tenacity and willingness to endure drunken fits of country-fried rapture at full volume. I'd like to sleep the peaceful sleep of a baby infused with cough medicine. I'd like to buy the world a cure for idiocy but alas and alack! In the meantime I'm almost like 10% certain our demo will be done by next month. Maybe. Japanese Girl and Another Beer sound awesome by the way. We'll probably post those soon. So long, farewell, alveterzane, adieu. I'll likely die before the next blog.
Band practice.... So we rehearsed quite a bit over the weekend. My uncle was kind enough to let us use his living room but he insisted on doing interpretive dance whilst balancing around on his tippy-toes carrying a precarious cup of piping hot coffee in the middle of our set up. It was a bit distracting worrying if he was going to scald us or short out any electrical devices. Especially when he hunched up like a gargoyle and stared at me with rabid intensity while video taping us play. But uncles will be uncles God love 'em. He taught us how to play guitar so I guess we owe him some indulgences. Afer practice Ryan and I were sitting outside in the balmy late afternoon breeze musing at our own genius and the state of our toenails when we heard the gentle tapping of a woodpecker over our heads, high aloft in an ancient pine tree. It was as if he was saying to us "Hey you god damned posers down there! Shut the fuck up!" It was magical.