:: mike errico diary ::

:: Friday, February 11, 2005 ::

ROCK ON MY BRUTHA

At this juncture, let me extol the virtues of Cold-Eeze. According to www.coldeeze.com's Common Cold Forecast generator:

Current Cold & Flu Level in: NEW YORK is HIGH, with 14-16% of the city's population exhibiting these top 3 current symptoms (in order):
Nasal Congestion
Chest Congestion
Coughing

This is consistent with my condition. What an amazing resource.

I checked other important zip codes:
zip code: 90210
Current Cold & Flu Level in: BEVERLY HILLS is HIGH
zip code: 60607
Current Cold & Flu Level in: CHICAGO is HIGH
zip code: 02134
Current Cold & Flu Level in: BOSTON is HIGH
zip code: 76015
Current Cold & Flu Level in: ARLINGTON,TX is HIGH
zip code: 30305
Current Cold & Flu Level in: ATLANTA is HIGH
zip code: 98230
Current Cold & Flu Level in: BLAINE is HIGH

I don't know where Blaine is. But it seems the entire country needs Cold-Eeze. Try your zip code and see if you need Cold-Eeze, too.
:: mike 10:43 AM [+] ::

Home. Studying.

Tom Waits, "Real Gone" - wow. He's created a world, and now he gets to stomp around in it any old time.

The Frames, "Burn the Maps" - great.

Brazilian Girls, "Lazy Lover" - made me laugh. And that's cool.

Louis XIV, "Illegal Tender" - also made me laugh. Maybe someone drugged me. Maybe that's why I'm laughing so much.

Hell with music. More laughing. Mick Mars from Motley Crue got sued for millions today by his girlfriend Robbie Mantooth. Mantooth. Mantooth. Never date someone named 'Mantooth.' God, the guys in that band never, ever learn.

See? I'm laughing again.

This is fun.





:: mike 1:11 PM [+] ::

LAS VEGAS

The cars open like oysters, and soft pink people ooze off the seats and into the casino car park. I decided to have my morning coffee in the only place that I've found that features actual sunlight. Inside, at a permanent 10pm, the slot machines are sucking money from seniors who slump over the handlebars of their cherry-red Rascals. They are attached by clear tubing to brushed steel oxygen tanks, and stare with eyes like salmon, indifferent to the bells, the flashing lights, the spinning numbers, the clusters of fruit, the pornographic depictions of boats and jewelry. They are vacationing.

I am working. I'm in between shows, running over my guitar solos, my choices of pedals and pickup positions. Unannounced, underground -- I'm kinda working on something... with somebody. Can't really talk here. But don't let the quiet fool you.

I can say: it's going great. I'm very psyched.

:: mike 2:18 PM [+] ::