Thursday, May 20
Odd At The Ends
I've nothing really huge to talk about today, all the updates I have are half-finished crap. So I'll talk about stuff that comes into my head within the next ten minutes.
By the time I've finished this, it'll be time to get ready for a band practise. Yes, en masse covers of stuff too slow for me to drum along to, here we come. It's only really so that we can have photos taken for someones A-level coursework, so that's fair enough.
I haven't talked very much about my drumming on this here blog. I've covered green several times, had many Dutch ramblings (someone needs to send me a guest update for tomorrow, anyone who promised me one), and even talked about my love life. But there's nothing to say about drums. Except this. Why is a cowbell called a cowbell nowadays? Indeed, it was once based on the bells found on cows. But it's now strapped to a drumkit, not a cow, and doesn't have the clapper inside it, therefore requiring whacking with a stick. Hence, not really a cowbell anymore.
And we're not really covering any nice fast songs. "Fuel!" the lead guitarist keeps bandering round, before playing Bryan Adams. But I'm all for speed drumming. I have a double bass pedal, for gods sake! Doesn't this imply anything? Humans are stupid.
The sun that teased us earlier this week and turned me brown is now hidden behind thick clouds. While I am proud of my country, weather is not included in my sphere of patriotism. Typical that, we imported all the criminals to a large and sunny country on the other side of the world, and stayed in the small and foggy one. Good one, Mr Cromwell. I assume it was Cromwell's fault?
Just listened to Summer of 69. Well, I'll get shouted at if I can't play it! Makes you think, last summer before uni. I have a shitload of high times planned before then. Reading Festival, on which I have already spent an update wittering away, is biggest of all. A barge holiday with my more mainstream friends. If they expect me to spend four lazy days on a boat without lighting up at least one spliff, they're totally batshit bonkers. Also, the family's going to Kos, so that means sun, sand, and hopefully wasy women. Yummy.
All this, coupled with the inevitable getting stoned, means that there'll be vast swathes of time where there's no updates. Fear not, I'll sort something out. Maybe show Big Brother how to convert Notepad documents into updates. He'll still cock it up, I reckon. The spawn of my blood is dense as lead. You really do have to live here to understand. One day, I'll sample his diaries and upload them as an update, that'll be a laugh.
Another paragraph, and we'll call it a day. It is very scary, actually, how little time I have left of formal education. One day tomorrow, with maybe one lesson at most, a week of a few lessons, then a month of exams, and its all over. For ever. Very scary for me. Considering how I've done no revision at all. I learn like a sponge - take it in quickly, and let it out as soon as removed from the source. Hopefully, I can spill some onto the right exam papers. I can do it, I just need to bother.
I did it, I just rattled off a load of crap in 15 minutes, and called it an update. Fucking amazing! Tomorrow, its either Da Skorpian or Johnny Napalm wittering away. But neither has sent me anything. Hurry up lads!
By the time I've finished this, it'll be time to get ready for a band practise. Yes, en masse covers of stuff too slow for me to drum along to, here we come. It's only really so that we can have photos taken for someones A-level coursework, so that's fair enough.
I haven't talked very much about my drumming on this here blog. I've covered green several times, had many Dutch ramblings (someone needs to send me a guest update for tomorrow, anyone who promised me one), and even talked about my love life. But there's nothing to say about drums. Except this. Why is a cowbell called a cowbell nowadays? Indeed, it was once based on the bells found on cows. But it's now strapped to a drumkit, not a cow, and doesn't have the clapper inside it, therefore requiring whacking with a stick. Hence, not really a cowbell anymore.
And we're not really covering any nice fast songs. "Fuel!" the lead guitarist keeps bandering round, before playing Bryan Adams. But I'm all for speed drumming. I have a double bass pedal, for gods sake! Doesn't this imply anything? Humans are stupid.
The sun that teased us earlier this week and turned me brown is now hidden behind thick clouds. While I am proud of my country, weather is not included in my sphere of patriotism. Typical that, we imported all the criminals to a large and sunny country on the other side of the world, and stayed in the small and foggy one. Good one, Mr Cromwell. I assume it was Cromwell's fault?
Just listened to Summer of 69. Well, I'll get shouted at if I can't play it! Makes you think, last summer before uni. I have a shitload of high times planned before then. Reading Festival, on which I have already spent an update wittering away, is biggest of all. A barge holiday with my more mainstream friends. If they expect me to spend four lazy days on a boat without lighting up at least one spliff, they're totally batshit bonkers. Also, the family's going to Kos, so that means sun, sand, and hopefully wasy women. Yummy.
All this, coupled with the inevitable getting stoned, means that there'll be vast swathes of time where there's no updates. Fear not, I'll sort something out. Maybe show Big Brother how to convert Notepad documents into updates. He'll still cock it up, I reckon. The spawn of my blood is dense as lead. You really do have to live here to understand. One day, I'll sample his diaries and upload them as an update, that'll be a laugh.
Another paragraph, and we'll call it a day. It is very scary, actually, how little time I have left of formal education. One day tomorrow, with maybe one lesson at most, a week of a few lessons, then a month of exams, and its all over. For ever. Very scary for me. Considering how I've done no revision at all. I learn like a sponge - take it in quickly, and let it out as soon as removed from the source. Hopefully, I can spill some onto the right exam papers. I can do it, I just need to bother.
I did it, I just rattled off a load of crap in 15 minutes, and called it an update. Fucking amazing! Tomorrow, its either Da Skorpian or Johnny Napalm wittering away. But neither has sent me anything. Hurry up lads!
