Stale beer.

We drink. We dance. We piss on people's shrubbery.

Yay. Haha. Dance the night away.
Whee. Jiang-Jiang! The scout update's a blaze!

Cold, dry wind and unforgiving sun, burn my skin.
Bring on the cancer and croak up my voice.

Oh my.

Oh my.


Oh my beautiful. Beautiful voice.

Projection. Attention. Erection.
Remember the days we had on stage?



Hardcore, non-stop, living for the moment.

For the spotlight.

For the tears, the roars, the laughs.

The standing ovations.

Alcohol has raped my throat. Oh absolut-ly.

Honey, honey, honey.

...Mmm, so yummy.
It's a monosaccharide's world.


June says Abba is gay.

Shame upon thee! If Abba is gay, then gay I shall be!

...and I guess that sorta explains the Fatimah episode.

Anyhoo.

I miss Iris.

Her six strings. And just when I learned how to play "Pussy-Meow-Meow" on her.


No shong. No shingalong. No, I can't stop loving you.



Thanks for the Blues,

the Blinks,

the Hallelujahs.

Joo noe hu joo ...ah.

Blue orchids.
Vanilla vodka.

An editorial layout for Quentin Tarantino perhaps?
Or Eric Clapton?
Tim Burton?

Sam Hui?



Guns, God, and Goons.

Bullets, Booze, and Bloodstains.

One more week, then it's off to the beach!

To the rink, to the clubs, to the guitar store, to The Killers!
Hopefully.




Till then, settle down, buck up, and don't give in.

The encores will just have to wait.

"Kukurela are my friends."