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Grab the tartar, this Fish is done. [entries|friends|calendar]
Closed like Mother Theresa's legs.

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[17 Mar 2005|11:05pm]
When last you heard from me, I was busily growing my hair out while waiting for my arm to mend. I'm still doing both of those, though my arm is for the most part ready to go.

While I was down and out I had a lot of free time to deal with, and I spent some of that time thinking about what I hadn't accomplished yet, musically speaking, that I still wanted to do. So I got together with my friends David Scott and James Marino to form Martyr Plot, my new side project. David's on guitar and vocals, James picks up bass with me (natch) on drums. One of the new songs is called "In The Red" and it's available online if you look hard enough. The kind people at Fishrine.Net used to have it up but I'm not sure if it's still there or not, so you might want to check.

That's all for now. Tour soon!

[Babe, baby baby I said baby, you know I'm gonna leave you.]Collapse )
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Disclaimer
[09 Feb 2005|08:42am]
At long last I can finally say that I'm very near to 100%, coming soon to a stage near you.

As much as I enjoyed being able to take a long break away from everything, I missed it quite a bit. Nothing I do is ever really the same as being on tour, and no tour can compare with a Manson tour. Chris is a good man and a great drummer but I couldn't help but feel jealousy when I see him on the riser where I'm supposed to be. When I'm not falling off it, I suppose. Maybe weighted boots this time around, or a bungee cord.

I do have a new picture that I'm going to put behind a cut so as to not frighten anyone unnecessarily. Taken on Manson's birthday so it's not at the peak of freshness, yet not quite at the Sell By date.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

That's all for now.
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Disclaimer
[01 Jan 2005|08:48pm]
Happy New Year!

Let's hope 2005 is a peaceful, prosperous, disease/illness/injury-free year for me, mine, you, and yours.

I hereby resolve to look before I leap, to upgrade my health and life insurance policies, and to take safety precautions should my drum riser be placed any higher than 24 inches from the ground.
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Disclaimer
Battered Fish [10 Nov 2004|02:32am]
I'm broken. My arm, my nose, my touring plans. It wasn't "immediately apparent" what caused the fall, they said. But I'll tell you. C'mere. Closer. Closer.

I LOST MY BALANCE.

Ok? That's it, really. I was doing one of those pinwheel arms manue mano manookjfalkjfuck MOVEMENTS and I just fell over like a fucking idiot ok? I wasn't on anything. Nothing was thrown at me. I fell and yes ha ha maybe I do need a fucking Lifecall pendant.

At the end of that same fucking week, I turned 39.

I'm that much closer to becoming the axe murderer of your dreams.

PS: Accept no imitations. Except maybe chrisvrenna but only for a few weeks. I'm not going anywhere, fuckers.
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Disclaimer
[28 Sep 2004|03:10am]
My nose is still so swollen that I won't be able to taste my birthday cake.

If I'm getting a birthday cake.
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Disclaimer
[08 Aug 2004|10:19pm]
It's been awhile since the tour ended. How long? Several months. Seven, eight. Long enough for me to settle into the sedentary life I loved and hated so much at the same time. Being a drummer by trade it helps that I'm so fidgety. I don't like to do one thing for too long, and I was coming to detest the daily routine of parking on the couch and watching soap operas all day. I'd surface for parties or go on the occasional date but for the most part I couldn't be bothered. And then, one day, the call came in. Manson. I'd know that voice anywhere. Hey, he said. We're recording next week. Get your shit together and get over here.

So began a be-yoo-tiful fiendship. At least this week. I never know what to expect from Manson, from any of the guys, really. He's extremely moody and it's easy to slip on a misspoken word, trip yourself up, fall out of favor. I'm probably the least suited member of the band now that John's gone. I don't often go all-out the way they do. I stay away from the drugs and most of the alcohol. Or I try to. I've done my fair share of late night Taco Bell runs to shake off the munchies, but no more than anyone else. We're all drug users, aren't we?

There's nothing left to say anymore. He said that pretty well. Can I get that on my tombstone? Spell it out in pepperoni.
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