RIP Pete Steele, 1962-2010

Me? Stuck Up?

I dug through some of my old posts the other day.  It was interesting to see the things I forgot I thought about back then. 
I went all the way back to the beginning and read what I wrote about how I was feeling about music two months after Dimebag was killed, and I was kind of stunned by how much it made sense to me.  before his death, I was fairly receptive to new music, and I enjoyed seeing new bands popping up here and there.  After, I grew cold to a lot of new music.  To this day, I'm very weary of bands that get radio play.  I know it's not at all fair to hold that against them, I mean it's normal for a band to want to get recognized.  It's just that a lot of "not-quite" bands pop up every now and then.  "Not-quite" metal emerges as "hard rock", "screamo", "emo", etc.  Correct me if I've mis-genre'd, but they just seem like lesser versions of good bands.  Of course, that's all subjective.
But I've become something of a music snob in the process.  I reject radio bands, I reject "not-quite" bands.  And yet i've embraced virtually all forms of ____billy music, even though they're all all weird mutations of each other.  Weird.
I put out a new page of Banjo's Tune.  I may be an extra week or two getting the next one out than usual.  I kind of forgot to write more of the story, so I have to hammer that kink out before I can work on anymore pages.
Practices are going great, we're thinking of getting together at Mike's for Open Mic to "test" out our audience.  Sometime soon, hopefully. 
The job is fine, although I'm getting increasingly frustrated working weekends.  It's worse when we want to go to Devils Lake or visit out-of-town friends, because then I have to take work off, which I'm sure they hope I don't make a habit of.  Plus, for some reason, I've been finding naked men in hot tubs.  Seeing fat, white, drunk asses crawling shamefully out of a hot tub isn't as glamorous as movies make it out to be.