… But perhaps we can interest you in some noise producing humanoids instead?
As promised, all will be revealed today. After all, it’s the week of our birth and if no one seems to give two shits about the actual day, the least one can do is indulge in some more or less shameless self-promotion.
First things first, apologies for the odd Star Wars reference. Although, we’re hoping to ultimately ‘Jedi mind trick’ you one way or another.
If you’ve been following the blog, you may already have noticed some mentions of endings and chapters closing. Boy, this year has been littered with them. Luckily, they’ve been mostly of the good kind. Interestingly, all of them (bar one) have opened more doors than they have shut in their own unique ways.
I know I said “all” will be revealed, but this ain’t The Sun thirteen years ago. Thus, I will save some details for myself and dive straight into things before you give up on me.
Among the things that have ended is the band Kenodromia, but in its wake it leaves behind its second EP, entitled Black Swan Songs. The 4-song effort will be out on Thursday this week, as a Bandcamp exclusive, so if you have any love in your heart for the people who occasionally purge a few hundred words a week on this platform, I urge you to click on this sentence – this will direct you to the band profile. On the not so off-chance you despise these verbally incontinent imps, I urge you to do the same. Maybe you’ll find something new to hate?
Regardless. The name Kenodromia means ‘running in the void’. Although the name seemed apt at the time of its conception, perhaps the moniker was in fact the beginning of the end. Maybe it’s time this sense of running without getting anywhere goes back to being a metaphor. Perhaps now’s the time to let lessons learned make way for other, perhaps more fruitful, ventures with a little less of the sour grapes thrown in for texture (or whatever).
Who’s got time for those anyway? (Sour grapes, that is) I woke up this morning from a sneeze that would make Morla feel young and fresh – I’ve no time for dwelling on futile fuckery.
Today I leave you with a request. It is out birth week, after all, so who are you to deny us? The request is quite simple: do something for yourself that you’ve perhaps put off for too long, or will allow you to let go of some fucking stress.
In the words of Fiona Apple, “so, tell that girl you don’t love her and if you do, tell her two times”. Or, in my own, slightly less poetic, ramblings: tell the girl to fuck off so she’ll get the hint she hasn’t taken yet.
Life’s too short.
See you next Tuesday! I’ll be a whole year older by then (or a week, if we’re being technical about it), so perhaps I’ll have outgrown some of my less than charming antics. Or, perhaps not, maybe I will have embraced them wholeheartedly, knowing I am the only person that will have to share its existence with me. Here’s to at least one more year of digestive tract talk!
Below’s the only bithday song I like. Enjoy. Yay, me. Or us or whatever.
Also, there’s talk of the second coming of PIEMAGEDDON.
Gonzo With the Wind 