http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4dOah-inh08starts at 5:26, they're aren't bongos, but they're something, and they're a weird perfect ending to the song. i have no idea how those sounds were made but i wish i did. but not enough to try real hard to figure it out. still not sure what a gigalo aunt is either. a male prostitute posing as your mother's sister? maybe it's syd making fun of brian epstein-like record label handlers.
so karl, my man...wisconsin? are you designing the curbs of culdasacs for suburban developments? i've got a feeling the future's going to be megalopoli and shanty towns. you've got to choose one over the other soon.
me? i'm on my fourth month in hollywood and still can't find a job. apparently they've got stringent standards for valet parkers in this city. i could've been this guy who drives a vespa to pick up drunks, throw the scooter in the drunk of their car, drive em home, and then drive to the next drunk but they required a dress code of a silver jacket and helmet. couldn't do it. plus, i'm supposed be the drunk guy in the first place.
it turns out an mfa in creative writing is only good for teaching when your style is urban surrealism. that will probably change in the next couple of months but i need a paycheck pronto.
so it's off to the Republic of Korea (ROK) for a year. they're giving me a modern studio apartment in Seoul with paid vacations to teach highschool kids how to pronounce "what's up dawg" correctly. i've already got vacation plans for Tibet drawn up. when i'm at base camp of Mt. Everest sipping a yak-butter tea pretending like i understand my Sherpa's English while the people i talked into joining me are experiencing personal crisis/ephipanies of the highest order i'll know it's all been worth it.
take care buddy,
warmaronger