by Casey Rea
So tonight there's that Keith Fullerton Whitman show at the Firehouse Gallery. Greg Davis will be reading some John Cage texts. I'm looking forward to it. We're lucky to even have a show like this in Burlington. I'm sure it'll make up for some of the horrible shit that's come my way lately. I seriously need to cleanse my aural palate.
I found a local metal band on My Space called Dentata Mare. They're pretty fun in that math-metal/sludgecore kinda way. I think they just played at Second Floor.
I used to think that if things got really bad, I'd just head to Hollywood and write shitty sitcoms. Well, I've changed my mind. I'd rather be a jaded small-town music nerd than one of the mental midgets that pens this stuff. Wow — they made Philip Baker Hall say "ass-clown!" Bet that line is gangbusters when you're snorting blow with your L.A. pals.
Twentysomethings selling trash to twentysomethings.
I'm gonna go home and read Steve Martin's Cruel Shoes to remove the taint. Ha! I said taint! Maybe I can have a career in television, after all!