Not Nice To Make Burger From Tarkus Meat

Not Nice To Make Burger From Tarkus Meat

Anyway, I'm sitting here listening to a 1971 Emerson Lake & Palmer show from the big bootleg box set series they put out a while back. And it rocks. And stuff.

Focus, asshole. Focus.

No, not the band with Jan Akkerman.

Amanda. Think about Amanda. Everything else is insanity. Only Amanda.

It's been too long. Friday. I'll see her Friday. I won't have anything for her, nothing big to say. Just let her know i'm still here. Waiting. Waiting sucks, but she's worth it. I hope. I hope I'm not pissing my time away on something that will nevr happen. But that's why I have to go back. I only get concerned about these things when i've been away too long. When I'm there, I feel like it can happen. Until she says otherwise, I have to move forward on that.

Amanda. Pull your mind from the insanity and FOCUS, assbag.

Just was reading wikipedia's entry on bipolar disorder, which I've read a few times. Welcome to my world, motherfuckers.

I think I'm gonna splooge. ELP doing Tarkus in 1971. My love for that piece (taking up side one of the album) has grown steadily over the years. I don't think Emerson ever topped the sheer balls and fearlessness he so ruthlessly displayed on this 20 minutes of prog-powered bliss. I love a lot of his stuff. Nothing like this, though. All three of them at their peak. Maybe my favorite lyrics of Lake's. Certainly some of his finest bass work. This particular version (September 1, 1971) stomps the stuffing from my skull. Ahhh, ELP back before theatrics and complacency settled in. Just pure fuckin' adventure in music. Fuck the naysayers. Lester Bangs can eat my cock. THIS is rock and roll, baby. Rampant unfettered individuality and gleeful rule-smashing abound. Deranged moog-farts, and Lake (who could sing the phone book to the tune of Mary Had A Little Goddamn Lamb and make me love it) spitting in the face of organized religion. How fuckin' cool is that?

Jesus. I have to be up for work in a little over five hours. and go get Katie tomorrow afterwards. I'm looking forward to tomorrow night. Make dinner and sit back and watch some MST3k. I've got three CDs of bootleggy Canturbury goodness to ask Sheryl to give Keneally for me. I love giving him stuff. Last year I handed him a few discs of Tony WIlliams' Lifetime and they way he beamed looking at those discs filled my little black heart with joy. I hope he comes around here soon. I'm gonna have to stick my tongue in his ear, that sexy little man.

Oh fuck. Aquatarkus just kicked in. I get sucked into this, and everything else on the planet is mere POOT. I'm apparantly a total fagmonkey for Keith Emerson, because those synth noises are like taking a big ol' Moog-y bone in the ass, and I'm bending over a little more for him. Do me, bitch.

I'm gonna have a hard time explaining this all to Amanda if I ever get her. LOL.

Love,
Dougie
PS Holy Mother Of Fuck. What is he DOING to that Moog? I just shot six layers of spoo in my undies.