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Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Broke and broken.

My dear friend Ethan was up this weekend. I miss him terribly. But it only underscored the fact that, while I know a lot of people here, there's next to no one to bitch to, laugh or pal around with.

I find myself wondering if I'm in a social dead zone. But with no skills other than playing/recording/writing about music (all of which drive me slightly mad) what else can I do?

I know this shouldn't be a personal blog, but screw it — it's how I feel. Yes, I'm a lone wolf by nature, but this is pretty bad.

Interestingly, some old friends from before I moved to VT found me on MySpace. After 15 years of no contact, I find I have more of a connection with them than I do most folks in my regular life.

Don't get me wrong — I'm not asking anyone to call me or nothin'. And please, don't ever just "pop by." I don't have guns like Nugent, but I do have the Evil Eye. And a Hand of Glory. And sundry potions and brews.

You know what's weird? Every classic rock song I heard in the car today was about outlaws. Some were dumb, like AC/DC's "TNT," or Bon Jovi's (barf) "Dead or Alive." Others were a little more nuanced, like, well... I don't remember. But I swear I heard 'em.

Steve at Burlington Guitar & Amp used to call me "The Outlaw Casey Rea" whenever I'd stop in —  which used to be a lot. It makes me smile to think about it. But it also makes me sad that I've not been in once this year.

What have I become?

Don't you dare quote any NIN/Johnny Cash on me, "my sweetest friends."


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Brad Feeley

how 'bout a good kick in the nuts or up the ass?


It's an imbalance of bodily humours - too much black bile . A good bloodletting will cure the young man's dyscrasia.


Thanks, Brad —I just kicked myself in the gentials and put a Christmas ornament in my posterior, and now I'm feelin' great!

Guess I'll save the bloodletting for a rainy afternoon. Of which I'm certain there are many to come.


Hmm. We could go hurl latex paint balloons at Hummers... eh? Or I've also got firecrackers, rotten eggs, spray paint... your choice, champ!


How 'bout we kidnap the drivers, tie 'em up, shove bamboo shoots under their fingernails and make them recant their belief in George W., money and Jesus?

Apologies to all the *real* Christians who read this blog, who are, ahem, leigon.

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