Thursday, October 31, 2002
Happy Halloween, you bunch of mother-grabbers. You would think that guys like us, guys who trade in songs about fighting monsters and writing Star Trek fan fiction and having big pectorals, that we'd be all about Halloween, right? But no. Not at all. Michael's going to the Beck/Flaming Lips show, which yeah, you gotta go to the Beck/Flaming Lips show when it comes to town, but unless Beck is dressed up like a space cowboy and the Flaming Lips are pouring fake blood on their heads whilst guys in animal costumes dance in the crowd, then that ain't no kind of Halloween party. So, come on, Michael. Keith is maybe going to this party thrown by our pals in the Fit, but he has no costume. He was thinking that it would be nice to be a werewolf senator, but he has neither a werewolf costume nor a set of fake senator's teeth, so he's fucked. And Chris - there's no telling what sort of gruesome shit Chris is up to, am I right? We'll just have to read all about it in tomorrow's papers.



Thursday, October 17, 2002
It is currently cold and wet in NYC. Where does New York get off, delivering this sort of weather to we, who have just returned from California (which, sure, was sort of dismal, weather-wise, too, but in its own West Coast sort of way, which is to say that it was pretty damned pleasant, no matter what)? Keith grew up in Miami, and so has no tolerance for this cold weather nonsense. He has responded to this whole meteorological disaster by coming down with a ridiculous fever/sore throat deal. He has vowed to stay in bed with long underwear on until Michael drops by and tells him that its 85 degrees and sunny out again.

Although the show Tuesday night at the Luna Lounge was up to the usual WAS standards (i.e., better than any other show by any other band, ever), Keith, unconvinced that debilitating illness was enough of a handicap, managed to both break a string without having brought a replacement and to somehow trip on his guitar cord, thereby pulling his amplifier down atop him, a move that he tried to play off by then attacking the offending amp with his guitar. The club-goers were not fooled, though. Keith is a clumsy geek. Michael and Chris are currently conferring, trying to figure out how to kick him out of the band in the most painful way possible.

[a few hours later . . .]

Once again, the joke is on Keith. Mere hours after he wrote the previous post, the sun came up, and it turned out that it was an unimpeachably beautiful day in NYC. Can Keith not get even one good, sustained sulk in, for once? No, it turns out. He cannot. He will get out of bed now.


Monday, October 14, 2002
I would like to go ahead right now and just personally thank whomever is responsible for California, because they've really done quite a job, there. A nice state.

And, yeah, thanks to all of the folks who came out to the shows and made it well worth the trip. Holy sweet hell, that was something else, dubbed "the two best shows we've ever played" by 2/3's of WAS, with the other 1/3 probably agreeing, but he wasn't around while we two were gushing and swearing and practically french-kissing each other with joy over how much fun those shows were. We're going to do all that we can to get back out there in the Spring, because we NEED that. So, let us know if you've got the sort of hook-ups we need to make that sort of thing happen. Also, let us know if you want to buy a house in Los Angeles and let us live in it, because we are ready to do that, like, tomorrow.

For everyone else who missed these SoCal shows - sorry. They were good. We'll make it up to you.

Of note: we've recorded a new EP, "Bitching!," which was originally to be sold only to the kids in LA, because they are so loyal and frenzied and full of heart, but now we're thinking that just maybe every family in America is going to need one of these babies, and so, yeah, it will be available to everyone, starting: now. Come to shows, buy our new CD. It is so amazing, we cry every time we hear it. In a good way, though, the crying.