Waking up to a weed whacker is not a good substitute for an alarm clock. In my groggy morning state I imagined a team of 12 foot-tall lumberjacks sawing my bed in half whilst I was clinging to my REM sleep.
Regardless, the show must go on, the weeds must be whacked, and most importantly, the cereal must be drowned in (rice) milk and made soggy.
Today will be the first taping of the Talking Music Show. My brother Nick, he's in a band called "311" (say it: three hundred eleven), will be stopping by to discuss life, music, the universe, and fishing lures.
I just now typed "talkingmusicshow.com" into my browser and found an empty, but nonetheless "real" website. Someone beat me to the punch on the title. As a result I've reverted to my old tricks and am using the babelfish translator to come up with a last minute new title for the program.
"Exposure of Music Communication"...
Not so much.
"Music That Speaks"
Maybe "Music Speaks" is a winner.
These are the decisions that control my day.
I have about three hours to make up my mind.
In other news, I have created a profile at OurStage.com. I'm new to the site, but it appears to be an online battle of the bands. This terrifies me a bit, because I don't have total faith in vox populi (how many albums did Creed sell?). On the other hand, why not? I entered "Little City Driver" in this month's Country/Americana contest and currently I'm 370th with a bullet! Look out world!
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