Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.
"I want you to be doing your homework."
She looks at you with those wide, hopeful eyes.
You want to be doing your homework, too, but it's fucking stupid.
You don't say it, though. You think it and then think take that and then you go into your room and listen to Jello Biafra. On headphones. You're still a little high, and he's inside of your brain. And, goddamn, everyone is so annoying. Every thing. Every thing sits in your skull like dead vermin.
You lock the door to your room and pull a cigarette out of your pack, and you feel like a real man would light it, but you don't. You put it in your mouth and it tastes good. You play with the lighter and burn your hand.
Eh. One more scar.
Don't get you wrong. It hurts like a bitch. But, you know. Whatever.
There's a few sips left in your whiskey bottle. It's hidden in the back of the closet. A few sips is enough, really. Plenty. And then a glass of wine because no one will ever be able to tell. No one knows how much wine there is. There could be infinity wine.
It's like when you're stoned. Kory's house. Speakers in every corner, and it sounds like the fucking apocalypse. And you close your eyes and pretend you're El Jefe and you could ever play guitar like that. But it sounds right. Feels right.
Band practice starts soon. God, you'd think a band that practices so much would be really good. But whatever. It's loud. Fucking super loud. And every once in a while, there is a moment of brilliant synchronicity.
The other guys in the band get mad when you get high before practice, but they don't get that mad. So, you plug in your guitar and turn it as loud as it will go and you just start killing it. It's not even tuned, but it doesn't matter. It's so loud. It is truth and vindication.
No one knew where the whole thing was headed. What it would seem like in twenty years. And in most ways, it turned out pretty well. But there's always going to be a part of you that can't bring himself to leave the garage because what happened in there was at least honest.
Ugly. But honest.
#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...