Wednesday, December 07, 2005
April 25, 2005
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Charles Dickens A Tale of Two Cities. Yes that was the motto for Saturday at least. I woke up and drank the black broth of caffeine way too much. I rolled out of bed and accomplished nothing. While visiting my lovely girlfriend at the bakery she works in I was reading this book on how to record using your portable studio and I realized that I don’t have the gumption to pursue my music from a genuine Punk Rock analog approach. So I went crazy and went to Guitar Center. But that place is about as useful as tits on a boar. Guitar Center is like a hot ex-girlfriend. You see them and say damn she looks good then you talk with her for 2 minutes and realize, “Oh yeah I hate this person.” The service sucks, the place is bright, loud, and annoying. I can find better prices and have twice the service at other places. So I bought a Boba and ditched that corporate rip off facility. I wanted to go to Drum City Guitar Land but of course cool mom and pop shops have lame mom and pop shop hours so I drove across Denver to Wadsworth and Belleview and went to ProSound. That place rules. Every time I go in there I meet a salesman who shots the shit with me for an hour and they have price matching. So I ended up spending a small fortune on my credit card so I could record on digital. In fact every time I think of it I get sick with both excitement and lament. Then I went to the Cherry Bomb to party with my family. My cousin knows a girl that used to work there. She was promoting some band that was playing. So it was the best of times because I was going out drinking on a Saturday night. It was the worst of times because it was at a bar with all 40 year olds. It was the best of times because there was loud live music. It was the worst of times because the music was all SRV covers. It was the best of times because my father has a girlfriend for once and just might be happy. It was the worst of times because I would end up in hotel room next to theirs. It was the best of times because I bonded more with my cousins then I have ever before. It was the worst of times because I think they are going to regret some of the things they told me in their inebriated state. It was the best of times because the guy who owns the Cherry Bomb is a pimp and hooked me up with a free room so I could drink the night away. It was the worst of times because my girlfriend refused to come down and party. It was the best of times because the room had HBO in it. It was the worst of times because there was no spank-ter-vision on!!! Damn it that sucked! After my blissful drunken evening that ended at 4 am I was awoke by a room service girl that looked 13 at 10:30 am. She didn’t speak English and was trying to get me to leave. So I gathered my things and left a dollar tip for her (sorry I was a waiter for 5 years and I can’t forget my tipping roots) and escaped into the cloudy Sunday morning. I then picked up my girlfriend to visit some old friends of mine and there again it was the best and worst of times. But my fucked up past is for a blog to be posted at some other best and worst of times. I guess you don’t have to be Charles Dickens to have A Tale of Two Cities.
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Charles Dickens A Tale of Two Cities. Yes that was the motto for Saturday at least. I woke up and drank the black broth of caffeine way too much. I rolled out of bed and accomplished nothing. While visiting my lovely girlfriend at the bakery she works in I was reading this book on how to record using your portable studio and I realized that I don’t have the gumption to pursue my music from a genuine Punk Rock analog approach. So I went crazy and went to Guitar Center. But that place is about as useful as tits on a boar. Guitar Center is like a hot ex-girlfriend. You see them and say damn she looks good then you talk with her for 2 minutes and realize, “Oh yeah I hate this person.” The service sucks, the place is bright, loud, and annoying. I can find better prices and have twice the service at other places. So I bought a Boba and ditched that corporate rip off facility. I wanted to go to Drum City Guitar Land but of course cool mom and pop shops have lame mom and pop shop hours so I drove across Denver to Wadsworth and Belleview and went to ProSound. That place rules. Every time I go in there I meet a salesman who shots the shit with me for an hour and they have price matching. So I ended up spending a small fortune on my credit card so I could record on digital. In fact every time I think of it I get sick with both excitement and lament. Then I went to the Cherry Bomb to party with my family. My cousin knows a girl that used to work there. She was promoting some band that was playing. So it was the best of times because I was going out drinking on a Saturday night. It was the worst of times because it was at a bar with all 40 year olds. It was the best of times because there was loud live music. It was the worst of times because the music was all SRV covers. It was the best of times because my father has a girlfriend for once and just might be happy. It was the worst of times because I would end up in hotel room next to theirs. It was the best of times because I bonded more with my cousins then I have ever before. It was the worst of times because I think they are going to regret some of the things they told me in their inebriated state. It was the best of times because the guy who owns the Cherry Bomb is a pimp and hooked me up with a free room so I could drink the night away. It was the worst of times because my girlfriend refused to come down and party. It was the best of times because the room had HBO in it. It was the worst of times because there was no spank-ter-vision on!!! Damn it that sucked! After my blissful drunken evening that ended at 4 am I was awoke by a room service girl that looked 13 at 10:30 am. She didn’t speak English and was trying to get me to leave. So I gathered my things and left a dollar tip for her (sorry I was a waiter for 5 years and I can’t forget my tipping roots) and escaped into the cloudy Sunday morning. I then picked up my girlfriend to visit some old friends of mine and there again it was the best and worst of times. But my fucked up past is for a blog to be posted at some other best and worst of times. I guess you don’t have to be Charles Dickens to have A Tale of Two Cities.
# posted by Nick D @ 12:27 AM 
