In Your Room

Heh heh, I'm in Frances' room, burning demo CDs while she's out soundchecking for her solo gig.

We finally recovered my amps from the Kissing Time's lockup. They've only been there for six months at this point. But Lee needs to borrow them for tonight and he has a car, so hurrah, everyone's problem is solved. I like Lee. He reccommends me books on Superstring Theory and we get all locker room wang super-showdown about our effects pedals. Even though my collection is now vastly diminished post-night bus disaster, I can still make an unholy phased out Doppler Effect racket. Maybe some day we can write a drone symphony for guitarists playing on two trains approaching each other at differential speeds, to see how the phase cancellations sound.

Miss AMP fed me tea and we bitched about boys. Though I must admit I'm feeling fairly positive about the male sex right now, as Semi-Unrequited Crush Boy emailed me from Paris saying that he had taped Dr. Who for me, but really he just wanted to tell me he was drinking beer in a street cafe in Paris. What a sweetie.

I'm trying to be very organised and burning demo CDs for all sorts of people - I'm cheating a bit by changing each demo slightly depending on who it's for. So some people get the rockist demos and some people get the super-electro demos. Heh.

Being in a band makes me feel all positive and empowered, like I belong somewhere. It's a nice feeling, like being in A Gang. But not a nasty chemistry-lab exploding gang like Hollyoaks. Cause really...

What did YOU do?