Disclaimer: this is self-indulgent, but it has a bearing on my choices. You know the monster balloon in The Prisoner – Rover? Well just lately, there’s been an intermittent ball of sad (or anxiety or both) hovering nearby, just in my line of sight. Sometimes it’s come so close it’s jumped inside me, a tight […]
Someone commented on Hot Fruit thus: “I love women who produce art for themselves and don’t ask for your approval. Women can be brave and rude and intelligent. Women can make you uncomfortable and they can set their own terms.”
“Do you know how I know if a record of mine’s going to be a hit?” asked the label head rhetorically. “If Everett True is throwing up in my bathroom at the Rhiga at 3 a.m. during CMJ, it’s going to be a hit.”
The Groceries were my secret crush, mine and mine alone, and I never even knew what they looked like.
Wow, I was in a fucking terrible mood when I wrote this one.
When he sings, it’s OK to be male and sensitive again.
I despise pomposity above almost everything, even when it’s hilarious. The Smashing Pumpkins aren’t hilarious.
The band’s name? Blowjob. My cool, cruel friends had told me it was because I blew down the recorder. Bastards.
I want a little glamour around my presence: glamour is the last thing I possess right now. I don’t know if I’ll ever recapture that mood again.
Jason Baxter sent me the following questions as part of his research for an article he was writing for the Tacoma/Olympia alternative weekly, The Weekly Volcano. The article has since been published, under the title Revolution Girl-Style: Then and Now. How did you hear about Morgan And The Organ Donors and Weird TV? Do you make […]