Thank the lord. All the local bands’ shows at Scooby’s Backshots (max capacity: 5 1/2 pipsqueaks) have been filmed and archived for my viewing pleasure
Want to spew splatter thoughts onto digital pavement. Personal bugaboos about burnout of the autistic variety achieved in “the” and “my own” teens , and never reversed. Lust and envy burning. But no, I will remain enigmatic. And unseen by design. And I will proclaim it “goated”
I should have clawed and clung to a helping hand. Do not let me slip, volleying one void after the next. Make me continue make me approach make me demand of myself the maker. Years in yellow and slacker jawed now and forever.
Wish I had a room I could show off on the room show. Or a dish that could be tasted on Dished out Delights. A peen that could be plopped out at the Peen Parade, etc.