Folks,

So the Somerville Rock House, although a wonderful creative haven, is perhaps the moldiest structure on the face of the earth. And luckily, I found out this year just how allergic to mold I am. For those of you unused to my delicate use of sarcasm, I am implying that I am very allergic to mold. Damn.

I am actually allergic to a lot of things, especially dogs and cats. Whenever I am around a household pet I get watery eyes, become wheezy and generally start to feel like I am being asphyxiated by Spot or Fido or Boots or Mittens. This is of course a huge drag, but by leaving the house or taking a nice warm fuzzy Benadryl trip it's easy for me to fight the allergic reaction off.

However, I can't seem to avoid the mold, especially in New England during the rainy season. And not only has the mold made me its bitch, it's made me its bitch in a very unpleasant, non-cats and dogs way. You see, with the mold the only symptom I get is splitting headaches that feel like someone is behind my eyeballs with a jackhammer, and he ain't happy. And the benadryl and related allergy medicines don't seem to get to him as well as the dog and cat dudes.

My point? I have decided to quit the band and dedicate my life to subverting the system and eventually making mold my bitch. I imagine it's going to take a lot of time, cotton balls, a sofa, three pancakes and a bullwhip to make it happen but I'm dedicated. Check back for updates.