I've been favoring a certain chord lately (F add9), a certain voicing to be exact, therefore a few of the newer tunes have a tonal similarity. It doesn't bother me but it has to end somewhere, although it's probably in my best interest to wring everything I can out of each chord. Two new additions today.

You know, power-pop kinda gets on my nerves sometimes. And it's most closely associated with what goes on here. That's hypocritical, I guess. Some would call it mushy- or fuzzy-headed, and they would stone me as I cast my vote for General Wesley Clark (just kidding, I barely know who the fuck he is).
Point is, I can't believe in black and white and it's harder to defend yr beliefs when, by definition, they are constantly shifting. I would lace cupcakes with extasy and serve them at a school board, of course.

Working hard over here at camp Oxford. Will gladly write a song about your pet, your parents or your sexual dysfunctions. Send info and I'll split all royalties 50/50, but you gotta do the leg work.

Though only two songs in the Iraq War tetra-ology have seen the light of day, I'm determined to finished at least one more, and I predict it will be the 128bpm "Rummy". By then the shape of the continents may no longer be recognizable, but I will finish.

The End is Nigh—Maybe
As my nights continue to be interrupted by visions of apocalypse, is it any wonder I can't get any work done?

The boys are currently in a state of diminished inspiration. Actually it's a state of diminished stash, and we need as much weed as we can get to face the daunting task of programming the drum machine.