I don't actually know what "at 6s and 7s" means.  But, I think it's bad.

I took today off to get my car maintained, and I'm sitting on my ass.  I'm listening to Isaac Hayes sing "I don't know what to do with myself," and it seems quite appropriate.  I planned to write, because I'm doing a likely crappy thing tonight.

Oh right, in the name of self-promotion, come on out to the Blue Rock Shoot in the always lovely and upscale countryside of Saratoga, CA.  It could be a good show.  

I want to do all new stuff, shit that's been kicking around my head but has never come out of my mouth.  Who knows, maybe I will.  Or maybe I'll panic and just reiterate the shit that bores my pants off.  And, not in a good pants off way.

It'll likely be a mix.

I'm soooooo fucking ambivalent about performing.  It's like a weight that says, "Hey, shithead, why aren't you performing?"  'cause in my head, weights can talk.  Maybe actually sucking it up and doing a show will invigorate.  Or maybe it will kill all resolve.

AAAARRRGGGHHHH.

So, did you hear the one about the middle-aged chick with nothing to say?