but anyway. brian and i should start a band. i tried to scoot his behind back into icky. for a band that only performed twice, they had a pretty good following. on the internet. that's back when brian and dave were friendster whores. then i (and my powers of inertia) came along and killed it all yoko ono style. i guess.
we have plenty of noisemakers to make this dream come true. brian went nuts with icky and still has a gigantic keyboard and a qchord and i don't know what all else to prove it. and we've since acquired a little, wooden elephant that clackles and a miniature accordion and a recorder and a tambourine and a baby with his own awesome soundbites. we could be like the trachtenburg family slideshow players. and if brian still insists on using Pony Fortress as the name for his solo efforts, we could call ourselves something like the rai.ney ell.is rai.ney-ell.is family slideshow players. because i also adore taking photos and have ramped up endeavours along that line and i could just as easily take photos on slide film. so keep an eye out at your local small-time venues in the near future.
my cousin has suggested i refine my writing skills and head down that avenue in grand style. i personally don't have the patience or possibly the skill to conceive of a plot that threads its way seamlessly and entertainingly through hundreds of pages. i suggested to brian that we do one of those things where i write a chapter and then he writes a chapter, but that still hasn't happened yet. so maybe we should try non-fiction instead. since we've become such neo-hippies (i won't even tell you about the latest step we're taking as it will have even (perhaps, especially) the most hardcore vegans gasping at its revolutionary tactics), we should pen a tome entitled "how to save the world and your body and raise a happy, well-adjusted, self-satisfied child in the process in 10 easy steps"
i'm considering becoming an art photographer or abstract expressionistic painter (since i don't have the dexterity to paint realistically). or maybe an outsider folk artist. but then i'll have to move to the sticks and become a christian extremist and possibly a racist and definitely an insane person with absolutely no sense of irony. and since i'm the polar opposite of all those things, someone somewhere sitting at a bus stop down the road to my success is certain to investigate and uncover the truth that i've been feigning all those qualities and will then blow the whistle and cause all my patrons to demand refunds of monies i've already spent on empty warehouses and mountains of rollerskates and trips to savannah, ga, and mopeds that run on water without putting too much oxygen and hydrogen back in the atmosphere.
well shit. the rest of my brainstorming will just have to wait. all this excitement is making me have an anxiety attack or a heart attack or a stroke or something so daddy's home from work now to make sure i don't die alone and have him find me with the baby still nursing on my cold, dead corpse. how's that for an entry ending?