Friday, July 21, 2006
There are some really, really, really, quite blog-worthy things afoot at la casa de Sloop but I'm not super "at liberty" to talk about them in such a public forum. That is to say, maybe I am at liberty, and I'm just feeling secretive. Anyway, after the figurative smoke clears, I'll have about a billion tons of blog fodder, but just not quite yet.
In other news, my little brother just turned 31. He's actually two and a half years older than me, but since I was about 13 or 14 I started to outgrow him. So he's my older brother, but my little brother. Seriously. I could drive him straight into the ground like a hammer drives a nail, if I just walloped his head with my fist. Me strong.
For my brother's birthday, I wrote and recorded an epic metal song that was about some vikings and dragons and some lusty elf-maidens who needed rescuing. It was very emotional, but also functioned as a metaphor for the full arc of our brotherly relationship from childhood until now. Especially that part in the song where the lyrics are like:
"And ye smote yon evil-doers with the hammer of...(guitars: DUN DUN NU DUN NU NU DUN) with the hammer of... (DUN DUN NU DUN NU NU DUN) with the hammer of JUUUUUUUUUUSTIIIIIIIIICE-AH!!!!!"
And when I played this song for J-Man, I'm pretty sure he got a tear in his eye, but it could be that the tear was from me landing on his foot, following my guitar weilding aerial acrobatics. In any case, it rocked thoroughly and re-established the fact that no-one, Visigoth or no, shall commit injustice against the Swenson brothers. NO ONE.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
So today is 7/6/06, one month after the day when Satan was rumoured to return to earth. I heard a psychic on the radio who was sure that Satan would come to earth in a flying saucer, and he would be a snake wearing a white 3 piece suit. And, in retrospect, I'm pretty sure that's exactly what happened, right?
The band's tour is over and life is sort of returning to normal. The Sopranos second season provided much distraction on the 15 hour drive from Des Moines to SLC. The night we got back, I fell asleep on the couch and when I woke up, I couldn't remember where I was: either Delaware or Nebraska. Obviously I was wrong, because I was in beautiful Kent, Ohio, home of mediocre burritos and the worst bathroom I've ever smelled in my life. No wait that's not true either; I was in my own living room, after 18 nights of sleeping a different city every night.
My dogs were funny when I returned - Yoshi was over the top with enthusiasm and wouldn't stop licking my arms; Lola pretended to ignore me for about an hour or two while she chewed on a bone, then she wouldn't leave me alone. For the next day or so, he would bark with jealousy whenever I would scratch Yoshi too much, or hug Marisa too much. It was really hilarious.
Portland treated me well, as usual. Superman greeted me with open arms at the multiplex and his brooding good looks and good nature won me over. I like that guy.
That's it for now.