By now you know that I’m in an entirely fake band. We would probably be awesome and radical and charmingly pernicious, but only one or two people in the band can actually play an instrument of any respectable sort, despite the fact that I have let thirty or forty people join the band.
I have three band-related responsibilities, which I have listed below.
1) I play the variable-speed blender (every band needs a blender player).
2) I talk about the band all the god damn time, lest you forget that it exists (or doesn’t, whatever).
3) I collect titles for all of the songs that we are going to write. I write down things that sound like they would be good songs. I jot them down in my little red notebook. I write them down after arguing with girls who have never heard of dairies, or after reading about flowers, or after getting mugged by dumb Eskimos.
Here are some songs for my band’s next album:
Milk Farmer
God’s Other Projects
Wall Street in the Garden of Eden
Smutty Sort of Lust
Eskimo Arithmetic I: How Eskimos add
Eskimo Arithmetic II: How to add Eskimos
Eskimo Arithmetic III: Why the fuck do we live here? It’s so fucking cold!
Charmingly Pernicious
Jellyfish or Cathedrals
Loosening the Virgin Zone
Eggs-istential Breakfast Dilemma
Infertile iPhone Owner
Bullet-Shaped Fingers
Just Enough of Nothing
The Hoodlums of Connecticut
Cultivating the Pancakes
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