The letching corpse of rock 'n' roll

I should be working. I really should.

I was up really early on Saturday morning for no apparent reason, I just got out of bed not realising the time. My girl came over about lunchtime, we just spent the day hanging out together... we had to work hard on not getting upset, because lazy days together like that are now sadly limited. All the usual routine, it was nice... decided to phone in pizza and watch the CSI Miami/Law & Order double bill (two of Janette's favourite shows) with her rather than head out to the Antiproduct gig I wanted to go to... Posh tells me people were getting turned away if they didn't have tickets because it was an unders night though, so it's probably just as well.

Yesterday was Minus3 day, which was a bit of a larf. Early afternoon practice, which was tight as fuck, it was sounding really good, which got me geared up for the rest of the day. Had some time to kill before going to the Cathouse so we went to Pizza Hut, which will probably keep us in an amusing story or two for a while (can't be bothered writing down why). Into the Cathouse to get checked in and soundchecked, before heading round to the Solid for a beer or two... I promised I wouldn't drink at this gig, but I only had a couple so it wasn't too bad. We were third out of four, so I had some time to catch up with some old friends who came along... or to moan at them about the people who didn't bother this time, even though they had bought tickets, bums.

Showtime! The gig was pretty good, though not nearly as tight as we had been just a few hours earlier at practice. That wasn't my issue with it though, my problem was that my throat completely gave out on me about 3 songs in, I could barely speak never mind sing, and I had nothing to drink up there. 'Downer' was barely a tuneless squeak, when it should have been a roaring punk shoutalong. It came and went, it was really fuckin' painful though... so I reckon, that's it, I'm quitting the fags. The combination of the fags, being all bunged up with the flu recently, the fact that I'd been singing all day from practice earlier (and had started to lose my voice a little then, too), and sheer exhaustion (again, from being on my feet all day), croaking away like that was as frustrating as hell. Grr... still, as I said it was pretty good, aside from my voice it was a bit of a laugh, and much more professional than we have been. Had to play extra songs to make up for DanishLoveDog pulling out, so we had a bit of fun with it... played the old '30 Second Song' for our mate George (who actually wrote the thing, years ago), that was a good laugh... not the most complex song ever, but pretty impressive considering we haven't played it in a long time, and I had taught it to Posh no longer than 10 minutes before going on stage...

Shitty voice or not, we seem to have impressed the people I was wanting to impress last night, so it's all good.

Anyway...

I should be working. I really should.