Pubic Symphyseal Torsion

Peoples are flowers
Musicians are cowards
lets argue in the kitchen
For hours and hours
Tomorrow is a travesty
Tomorrow should be ours
Musicians are cowards!

A fancy title to entail just the content of this fancy blog. Despite its continual overhauling and constant venue change, it never seems to attract the attention I never wanted. Kind of disappoiting that the public loathes rather than adores. Now I realise that I do not always have the most cogitent or even entertaining things to say. But I'm fucking floating text in cyberspace you nunces, what more can you expect when I'm completely detached from the freezer door jamb. No good seal is gonna form and then the ice builds and then the stuff starts melting and oi with the poodlesicles!!
I could begin to explain all the rash judgements that come my way, or even the ones that narrowly miss, or even those that hit me smack in the head. But I'd rather not, just the same, just as I'd rather not explain my own rash judgements. Can't we all just let me be and I'll continue to criticise how ever I see fit, hmm? Can we? Or did I get stuck in third grade? Cos lecture the other day, I coulda sworn the prof was trying to make me feel like I was being a bad lil boy, and not in that way that would make Tina go "ooo, that tickles me," either. Who knows.
I must apologise for the recent batch of rubbish, I've been reading far too much at too fast a pace for my brain to process all the imagery and allow for word molt (thats molt not mold). That and stress adds silly things to the game, like rolling the dice on uneven ground, the combinations become endless as the juggled items wiggle around and jiggle like J-E-L-L-Ooooooo.
I have begun making grand and non-meaningful travel plans, as in vague and completely off the wall. First thing is first. I'm going to Stirling before spring break, maybe next weekend, just for shits and giggles, tho hopefully for more giggles than shits, cos seriously I only have so many boxers. Theyre not brown yet, more of a beige, but I'm aiming to maintain that for awhile. I figure the farming this summer will totally run me into dark brown territory. It's like the Homeland Paranoid alert. After that is Edinburgh, hopefully for an entire day culminating in me attaining bragging rights for seeing the DiFranco at Queens Hall. We shall see.
The biggie I'm planning on two stages, because first I have to coax the parents into applying for a larger loan to allow funds for it. I mean, I've already traveled 3500 miles to be here, I might as well go the other 2500 to Bhutan. And Florence, and Naples, and Marseilles, and Bath. But I shall start farther, Australia will just have to wait to experience the me that is Jack motherfuckin Cavanaugh.
Oh and I haven't even mentioned the awesomeness that is Mars Volta coming to Glasgow in a couple months along with Arab Strap's performance scheduled in tandem to Biffy Clyro's next month on the same day (alas!), so I can only see one. Tough choice, very tough. Soundtrack of Our Lives and Mull Historical are also playin soon, and unfortunately I'm skippin out on Idlewild and The Autumns, the former because I have a previous engagement involving wine and movies and cards, the latter cos its the same day and is sold out already (bastages takin my tickets!!!).
So it would seem I have little to say other than the usual:
YOUR MOM!
Cheers.