Thursday, May 25, 2006

 

Pissed Jeans

My friend Ron (from Pennsylvania) proving that he is not dead yet, despite his advanced age—31.

I’m thirty years old, married, and at work I have my own office—which doesn’t double as a break room. Yet, it is 1AM on a Wednesday and I’m half-drunk, listening to Pissed Jeans MP3s and reading the bios on le tigre world dot com. While I’m a fan of Deceptacon and whatnot, Pissed Jeans are whats keeping me up at night. Fuck, I’ve been listening to song 1 over and over and over again and dreaming of buying an Gibson RD, stringing it with 58-13s, and smashing my fist into the pick guard in time with the Neolithic rhythm that beats within our primal hearts. It is so refreshing to hear something new, which sounds old and familiar and true. No contrivance or aspirations, just expression.

How is that for lauding accolades on anonymous Heshers from rural PA? I wish I wrote it in blood, not Word Perfect. Check out their unrestrained brilliance at http://www.whitedenim.com/pissedjeans/music.html.

Get high mother fuckers, get high. Afterwards, enjoy the photographic documentation the winter of 2006.
Self aggrandizement

Self preservation



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