Let's play time vault! It's where I am ambitious near the demarcated end of the calender year, and so I imagine 2010 as a really bad crabcore band (let's say for shits and giggles this one) that has taken over my apartment and forced me to drop anything productive and, how do you say, good to clean up after said spoiled 17-year-olds, but they made a drinking game of it (beverage of choice is Sparks, bro, mind you) that every time I scrub a glob of hair gel from the wall they each take a crap on the floor. And then I imagine 2011 as the symphonic punk band that runs in (unbeknownst to the brats, known to me) in the middle of the night, overturns the couches and tables they are sleeping on, and stabs them repeatedly with violin bows, strangles them with guitar strings, electrocutes them with huge bass amps, stuffs them into kick drums, and then hands me a nice, cold beer. And then I look at this list in a year and see if I did this stuff and then cradle my head and cry.
That was fun. Now, concrete things I would be pretty okay with happening this coming year.
- I get a freaking car already
- The apocalypse (surprise, motherfuckers! Early bird consumes the Earth!)
- The best song ever in the world ever is written
- I get a record player (a thousand friends sneer and guffaw, "you don't have a record player?")
- Two words: Road trip
- Two words: Professional massage
- Two words: Free beer
- Something that involves Pomeranian cats, space helmets, and Medieval iron swords.
- Release a solo record
- Release an Eleanora record
- Reverb, distortion, looping.
- Poof! I'm a freshman in art school again
- I get out of this fucking state for the first time in 2 years