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Last night's practice with Nate was fucking fantastic on every level. Not only did he rock our little two piece drum kit (and tambourine) till there was smoke in the air, he also picked up [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]'s guitar and launched into an unprovoked rendition of I WAS A TEENAGE WEREWOLF... Which, as anyone who's worth their salt knows, is a sure-fire way to work your way into Ms. Malady's heart, any time.

"You know that song SUNGLASSES AFTER DARK?" he said at one point. "That song makes me want to masturbate every time I hear it. We should totally cover that song."

Bastard! Did he know in advance that SUNGLASSES AFTER DARK was the impetus that drove us to form this band? Or is he just some kind of diabolical mind-reader? Either way, Ms. Malady and myself both seemed to sense that it was time for an initiation of sorts, so we forced him to sit down and endure a personal screening of THE SLAVES OF MARY JANE. He was suitably impressed, I think.


After practice, it was off to the Replay, where we proceeded to get blackout drunk (with a little help from some magic pills). We've paid dearly for our transgressions, however: After spending twelve hours with the blankets pulled over my head, I'm being forced to drag my trembling, booze-soaked ass down to the bar and work for seven hours. Ugh. And [livejournal.com profile] secret_malady? Sick, perhaps dying-- I'm doing all I can to keep her going, but it might take more than love alone to cure her of HANGOVER-ITIS.

Also, our stereo is dead. I didn't have an amplifier to sing through last night, so, like a fool, I plugged the microphone into our stereo receiver and FRIED it. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking... Since we have no money, it's gonna be AT LEAST a month before I can replace it. That's MR. Asshole to you, folks.

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In the heat of my spite-fueled bitchfest, I almost forgot to mention:

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Despite not having a drum section yet (yours truly has been sitting in on percussion to help move things along), THE SPOOK LIGHTS are progressing at light speed. JT is coming over tonight for another practice, and between he and [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com], our soon-to-be set list has jumped up to six or seven songs, with three more waiting in the wings. Hopefully, I'll be ready to do some more four-tracking over the weekend, as my stationary position behind the drums hasn't alotted me much time to try out my lyrics at practice.

I'm pretty fucking eager to get this thing off the ground... Especially since there really aren't any ROCK-N-ROLL bands left in this town. Besides, Ms. Malady and I have too much STAR POWER to keep to ourselves; why shouldn't we get off our asses and share it with the world?
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Bah. I'm back from the brink of insanity, in case anyone was wondering. You didn't really think I was going to vanish forever, did you?

It was tough going there for a while, though... Dead friends, sick family, too much work, too little money, alcohol, arguments, and general feelings of malaise threatened to ground me there for a while. AND THEN... AND THEN...

I bought this:

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And this:

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And one of these:

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And my life immediately snapped back into shape. The three thousand pounds of pot that we smoked with our houseguests this weekend helped, too.

Things are starting to look pretty good for us here in Spook Light Land. [livejournal.com profile] secret_malady, JT, and myself ventured to our (possible) new drummer's suburban pad for a two-hour rock session, and things came together swimmingly. Curvacia and JT laid out our three-and-a-half song set as loud as humanly possible, and for the first time I was able to step up to the mic and sing along with them... Fan-fucking- tastic. JT's fuzzy guitar blast lays the perfect framework for Curvacia's high-end reverb. I can say without irony that The Spook Lights will one day be remembered as the greatest contributors to the artistic advancement of Western Civilization. End of story.

Problems with the drummer: He's fucking awesome. Truly. In fact, he's too good. He's a classically trained percussionist/ future high school music teacher. He's a full time student, faculty member, and has a new family at home to take care of. So even if he ISN'T totally bored with our music (which he seemed to be), he may not have much time to devote to our sonic takeover of the United States.

Now, the whole world knows how hard I've obsessed over finding a drummer these past few months. I've thrown money, time, and energy into a black whole trying to create, copy, and hang fliers all over town... Not to mention all of the responses I've had to field from interested parties (one of whom was the drummer from KANSAS before they were KANSAS, heh heh),so now that we've latched on to someone, I'm reluctant to let him go. But I've got this nagging feeling at the base of my spine that we're going to commit ourselves to someone who will eventually flake out on us, then we'll be right back at square one.

Despite my fears, I'm pretty damned excited about the whole thing... my best gal is an amazing goddamn songwriter and gee-tar player, and JT has more than enough rock chops to pull this thing together. Good thing no one seems to have noticed that I can't carry a tune to save my life... Hey, at least I look good. And I bathe pretty regularly. That has to count for SOMETHING, right?

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In case anyone still thinks that Lawrence ISN'T becoming one giant, Top 40 shopping center, I'd like to direct your attention to the new Claire's Boutique that just opened on Mass Street, right across from Free State.

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You hear that knocking sound? It's Mr. Bulky and Spencer Gifts breaking down the door. Welcome to the Mass Street Shopping Mall... Which way to Sbarro's?

Sigh.

In other news, [livejournal.com profile] secret_malady and I started yoga classes last night. All day long, I was stressing out about it, wondering whether or not I would mess up the poses, wondering whether or not I would fart out loud and break everyone's concentration. I voiced these concerns to Kelly, who assured me that everything would be fine.

So, of course, I immediately farted in the middle of class. It was a deep, juicy, resonant blast that rattled the walls of the room. And as if that weren't embarrassing enough, I was doing the wrong pose at the time, which forced our teacher to WALK INTO MY FART CLOUD so she could bend my arms in the proper position. This happened less than five minutes after I entered the room. Oh, the humanity.

So, um... Yeah. THIS is still going on, so if'n you guys know anyone, PLEASE send them our way:

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My first day off in a week, and here I am, ready to get down on some toaster waffles for breakfast... Mmm-mm! Warm, crispy goodness, smothered in margarine and syrup... I've got the plate in one hand and a fork in the other, and as I'm carrying these things back to the computer I can't resist the urge to reach forward and cut myself a large BITE...

FUCK! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! The waffles slipped off the plate and landed FACE DOWN on the FLOOR! To quote Dr. Gonzo: "Did you see what GOD just did to us, man?"

If this is any indication of where my day is headed, I'm going back to BED.

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As of last night, THE SPOOK LIGHTS are an official "band." Meaning, we actually wrote an entire song from beginning to end and played it all the way through. The lyrics are still a bit shaky, but I'm going to finish them up today after I'm done shopping for a Halloween costume.

Sine it's our first song, I felt it was only appropriate that we use it as a theme song, a mission statement of sorts. Hence, "Spook Light Rock" was born.

Now, now, before we start handing out congratulatory blow jobs over this thing, it should be noted that the band isn't fully assembled yet... In fact, we still have yet to sit everyone down together in the same room. Jason is in LA and Chris, our would-be drummer, is even harder to keep in touch with than [livejournal.com profile] secret_malady and I are... "Spook Light Rock" was composed between Kelly and myself, with Ms. Malady laying out some hot surf riffs on her guitar and yours truly tapping rhythm on a second hand snare-and-tom set up that we scored at a yard sale last week. But really, isn't that all you need?

Years from now, when we've gone down in history books for single-handedly reviving the psychobilly scene here in Kansas, people will pay good money for those scraggly four-track demos we recorded last night. Just you wait and see...
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First things first:

I bought a pair of X-RAY GOGS today because I've always thought they looked stylin. I tore into the package as soon as I left the toy store and put them on, confident in my cool new look... Three steps later, I walked face first into a tree.

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[livejournal.com profile] secret_malady and I are getting desperate in our quest for a rock-n-roll drummer. Two weeks ago, I plastered every flyering hot spot with handbills, complete with pull-off tags featuring our contact info... Ms. Malady and I figured an email address was best, since neither of us bother to answer the phone, and when we do, our lack of communication skills are usually enough to sink any conversation like the Lusitania.

Anyway, if YOU were an aspiring rock drummer, and YOU saw this flier hanging outside the record store, wouldn't YOU immediately drop everything and rush home to respond?

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Yeah, me too. But apparently, all the young skin-bangers in this town have better things to do. It looks like quite a few people are interested, because several tags have been torn away, but our email inbox remains dreadfully bare.

So, in an attempt to boost our response rate, I concocted THIS flier, opting for a more "cut-n-paste" design... I figured, what the fuck, maybe all the young rockers will be drawn in by the whole "black death" aesthetic:

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This time, in addition to hitting the usual spots, I made sure to hit laundromats, liquor stores, and most importantly, the KU campus. I tried to double up with the old fliers as much as possible, just my way of trying to say "See? We're still looking! There's still a chance to get in on the most famous fucking rock band in town!"

I did a quick check downtown today, and sure enough, there were a few bites. But the inbox remains empty. What else can I do but wait? It seems like no one in this town wants to be in a band that doesn't stare at it's feet anymore. Are we really going to have to move away before we can fulfill our dreams of superstardom? Four letters, my friends: L-A-M-E.

BUt, as you know by know, we never give up hope. Right now, I'm burning a candle next to my Cramps shrine and praying to the Holy Twosome for some divine intervention... If anyone can offer us spiritual guidance in our times of need, it's Lux and Ivy, that's for sure.

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