ypsilanti's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- three six nine feeling a potential no-future situation, it's been difficult for me to think about writing here. even if the potential has been there a lot longer than this diary, or the internet or whatever.. knowing in a very direct way that there's a stupid, hurtful needless war happening, and knowing that everything is truly and awfuly changing, it sometimes makes me less inclined to ruminate in a poetic way about all these seemingly small things.. bike rides, bands, sound and vision, falling all around, walking late, dreaming about all of the above.. all the times i might have felt upset or somehow tragicly hurt, these times seem kind of silly and small in the light of random death and general national helplessness.. but it's important to remember that the point is to find hope and continue in hope. in times of small struggling, personal loss and grand-scale ugliness. these small things are actually everything. nothing could make me who i am any more than these small things, the things i love the most, and the end of my life couldn't change what's happened and what's resulted because of these small things and the actions that grew out of them. so let us continue... lovesick, punk music band. november 1997-october 12, 2001. thank you for listening, thanks for teaching me. our last show was a strange combination of insane and familiar. a strange casual vibe and everyone asking me if i'm sad. no, dude. let's move forward. i imagined a cool band where i was just the singer and there were three drummers. in one version of the band, i tour around with three drum kits and just recruit people to play in each new town. in another version, ann arbor's most revered and famous homeless are the drummers, and wade yells at me for being somewhat exploitive. bible baaa: sometimes has a bible strapped to his belt, sometimes dreadlocks. hangs out in front of white's market. very kind man. average white baaa: looks a lot like joe cocker. always used to come into the record store asking for average white band records. like every fucking day. not really nice or kind at all. one time asked me if i "could spare ten bucks". ultra-baaa: the classic, the innovator. real name "mark". extremely beligurent and unkind, very funny. started the whole movement four years ago, when me and brett were walking down the street, rather than asking "spare change" or "give me a dollar", ultra-baaa (then untitled) stuck out a hand holding a cup and made a half-laughing, half-screaming sound that went "BBBBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA". a new era was born. if you know any of these three gentlemen, you are lucky. if you can imagine all three of them as simeltaniously drumming in a hardcore band, you rule. if you are mad at me, i'm sorry. 4:28 p.m. - 10.15.01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||