Sunday

So, on Sunday I woke up in my usual spot next to Gordon on the air mattress on the floor, and I couldn't help wondering whether I really knew anything about this person I'd been sleeping next to for a week. Ok, maybe not, but I did find myself wondering why I was happy to be sleeping with Gordon on a floor when I have a warm and somewhat comfortable bed at home. The rock works in mysterious ways, people.

Anywho, I headed upstairs and settled in for a serious amount of guitar playing. I felt like I was in ELO or something as I laid down track after layered track. Luckily Gordon was there when I got a little off the path.

Gordon: That solo sounds really good.

Me: Hey, thanks dude.

Gordon: No, like too good. Why are you playing it like a good guitar player? Play it like you really play...hack away at it.

Me: Oh, ok. Hmmm.

Of course Gordon was right, so I got a beer, stood up and let it rip like I actually play, which as you all know is sloppy, out of key and incredibly derivative of Chuck Berry. With Gordon's advice I think I actually put some good stuff down.

The rest of the day was taken up with singing, so I headed downstairs and watched a B-movie called ILSA: Queen of the SS She Devil's or something. It was really bad.

Later I had Turkish food and it gave me a whikked stomach ache.