It’s 10:17 pm. 30 degrees. We just got done making noise out in the garage. Excellent noise. It was ass cold in the garage. It’s your average garage- cinderblock walls, high ceiling, big gaps between the ends of the door. Black Widows. Boxes of stuff that I bet act as insulation on at least one side.

It’s just going to get colder for a while. It sort of gets to be an issue with the guitar after an hour or so. The shit just goes out of tune. My bass, wonderful creature that it is, seems to NEVER go out of tune, no matter how cold it is, how hot it is, how hard I play it. The only thing that makes it move is if it gets physically hit on one of the tuning pegs.

But we keep playing. We keep thrashing out noise. We have a stack of blank tapes and a whole lot of time. We have a bottle of Black Velvet down there right now, and there’s beer in the fridge. The heater does the best it can, but we still stop and hold our little piggies in front of it to get the feeling back into them occasionally.

At night during the winter here it gets down to the teens. We’re going to keep doing what we’re doing. Physical discomfort isn’t going to stop us. That’s how bad we want it.

Pril wants it bad and writes daily here.

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