Dear Mike

Hi again. So a little over 30 years ago, I wrote this to Karen, describing the gig in St. Medard with Tormentia: "So, our second show with Eric-the-Dick (he says everyone calls him that) was in a suburb of Bordeaux called Saint Medard. We're on a four band bill, the headliners were bumped so we would headline. It was in this massive community center/multipurpose room on a sort of community living area (some sort of experiemnt in socialsim, or something...). They were very specific about being there at 2pm to soundcheck, so of course Laurant had us out 'til 6am drinking and meeting the locals. The guy is like No Means No unchained!! So we get to the show, mucho grouchy, at about 3pm. Don't soundcheck 'til 6pm. Hang out. Meet the guys in Tormentia, a bunch of 118 and 19 year olds in a thrash metal band (think Metallica)The bass player, whose name I never mastered was a cute one. Great blue eyes, dark hair, very friendly (he was excited that "the American band&qu

Hey Mike. You've been on my mind a bunch the last few days. Our favorite Norwegian guitar player had reached out a few months ago, because he apparently is going to actually get his book published. As opposed to me, who has the one third of it she started 25 years ago safely stored on a floppy disc she has no idea how to ever retrieve the data from, and so I may fail to ever get a tangible telling of those prime Agent 86 hijinks out into the wild. I mean, the middle part was the most interesting part anyway, right? At any rate. Kjellykjellkjell had asked for photos from tour, and of course I put it off until he pestered me again and mentioned that if I got the photos to him we'd be "part of the history forever" and as I have been a shitty steward of Agent86 in those terms (wait...have I? I don't see anyone else trying to keep the dream alive: GL has long since moved on from all that ((and literally moved up here now)). Anyway, as I was rifiling through stuff to f

Hey. Per usual, this didn't take off as I had intended it, even though I potentially have more time to spend rambling than ever before, but am so consumed by malaise that it just sits here. Much like the broken filling in my mouth that needs to be fixed, but doesn't hurt - I just dick around with it from time to time, but never actually...nah, that's a terrible analogy. Who really needs an anology anyway? It is what it is: an underused blog. I can't get excited about day-to-day rambling like I used to. My opinion in general just seems pointless. After years of dreaming of having my own platform, and a couple of years of actually using some of them, now? Now it's just like water running in an open sink. A waste of resources. Of what little constructive thought I still have. My health is declining. I have all the signs of all the diseases. Heart attack, liver failure, brain tumor, cancer, all of them. If I see the other side of 58 it'll be a damn miracle. And wha