And they are roughly as follows: It's not real, it's all in your head, get a fucking job, fucking pull yourself up by your bootstraps you lazy fucking entitled goddamn millennial it's those pesky phones I swear, fuck! And get- ah, you need to get out of my house!
Howdy. I've decided to stop being shy about the old copout video and just accept it for what it is - a DIY, zero-budget video made by a bunch of friends while we were drunk in college five years ago.
I tried going to school, I tried dropping out of school, I tried a different school, tried dropping out of that one, tried a different one. I tried tolerating people who won't shut up in the audience... testament to my patience, everyone! Thank you!
I apologize for my meltdown earlier! There's a fair amount of, uh... stressors right now. And they take different shapes and they have different names and different faces.
You can find it under Will Wood and the Tapeworms on Spotify. But why would I advertise you where you can find it when you haven't heard it yet? I'm- you're not gonna go looking it up when you know nothing about it.
I'm not on top of my, uh, stage presence game either. Um... one because I haven't been on stage in a very long time and two because I'm making no effort, um, and three because I'm not on a stage and four because, uh...
- We didn't pay.
There we go.
And I'm like fuck! That's a tall order, man! 'Cause borderline personality disorder looks pretty bad! Um... it's not- it's not cute. Uh, trust me... I have it. And now it's too late. I've been open about it. So... you're welcome.
There are things you can do with a strummed instrument that you can't do with a piano, and there's something about acoustic guitar that feels so grounded. But I can't really handle guitar very well, so I decided to try something smaller and with fewer strings.
My biggest achievement was the- the daughter thing because a lot of people still think I have a daughter.
- But you don't?
I do not have a daughter. And this is the end of that.
The idea of thinking you've found the motherlode of cheese and it turning out to be poison β shooting for a moon made of cheese and not "making it" back or something β I don't know, seems like the right opening track for setting the tone.
She said, "Listen, this is Olanzapine. Just call me if you grow tits and die in your sleep." And, uh... um... and then I was like, "Fuck... no." And I didn't take it.