crowded bays.

Becoming A Writer (or Artist)...

Mon, 19 Dec 2011 15:52:36 -0800

This was written by one of my favorite authors, Junot Diaz (The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao), and the truth in this small entry is like an anvil to the face. I am going through a constant battle with myself on whether or not writing music is a future that I want to be a part of. After trying and trying and playing to empty coffee houses and struggling on the road, the spirit becomes miserably broken. Junot’s belief is that this is where one determines who he or she really is. I don’t know what direction I’ll place my shoes, but I am completely inspired by this entry. It was written for me:

It wasn’t that I couldn’t write. I wrote every day. I actually worked really hard at writing. At my desk by 7 A.M., would work a full eight and more. Scribbled at the dinner table, in bed, on the toilet, on the No. 6 train, at Shea Stadium. I did everything I could. But none of it worked. My novel, which I had started with such hope shortly after publishing my first book of stories, wouldn’t budge past the 75-page mark. Nothing I wrote past page 75 made any kind of sense. Nothing. Which would have been fine if the first 75 pages hadn’t been pretty damn cool. But they were cool, showed a lot of promise. Would also have been fine if I could have just jumped to something else. But I couldn’t. All the other novels I tried sucked worse than the stalled one, and even more disturbing, I seemed to have lost the ability to write short stories. It was like I had somehow slipped into a No-Writing Twilight Zone and I couldn’t find an exit. Like I’d been chained to the sinking ship of those 75 pages and there was no key and no patching the hole in the hull. I wrote and I wrote and I wrote, but nothing I produced was worth a damn.

Want to talk about stubborn? I kept at it for five straight years. Five damn years. Every day failing for five years? I’m a pretty stubborn, pretty hard-hearted character, but those five years of fail did a number on my psyche. On me. Five years, 60 months? It just about wiped me out. By the end of that fifth year, perhaps in an attempt to save myself, to escape my despair, I started becoming convinced that I had written all I had to write, that I was a minor league Ralph Ellison, a Pop Warner Edward Rivera, that maybe it was time, for the sake of my mental health, for me to move on to another profession, and if the inspiration struck again some time in the future…well, great. But I knew I couldn’t go on much more the way I was going. I just couldn’t. I was living with my fiancée at the time (over now, another terrible story) and was so depressed and self-loathing I could barely function. I finally broached the topic with her of, maybe, you know, doing something else. My fiancée was so desperate to see me happy (and perhaps more than a little convinced by my fear that maybe the thread had run out on my talent) that she told me to make a list of what else I could do besides writing. I’m not a list person like she was, but I wrote one. It took a month to pencil down three things. (I really don’t have many other skills.) I stared at that list for about another month. Waiting, hoping, praying for the book, for my writing, for my talent to catch fire. A last-second reprieve. But nada. So I put the manuscript away. All the hundreds of failed pages, boxed and hidden in a closet. I think I cried as I did it. Five years of my life and the dream that I had of myself, all down the tubes because I couldn’t pull off something other people seemed to pull off with relative ease: a novel. By then I wasn’t even interested in a Great American Novel. I would have been elated with the eminently forgettable NJ novel.

So I became a normal. A square. I didn’t go to bookstores or read the Sunday book section of the Times. I stopped hanging out with my writer friends. The bouts of rage and despair, the fights with my fiancée ended. I slipped into my new morose half-life. Started preparing for my next stage, back to school in September. (I won’t even tell you what I was thinking of doing, too embarrassing.) While I waited for September to come around, I spent long hours in my writing room, sprawled on the floor, with the list on my chest, waiting for the promise of those words to leak through the paper into me.

Maybe I would have gone through with it. Hard to know. But if the world is what it is so are our hearts. One night in August, unable to sleep, sickened that I was giving up, but even more frightened by the thought of having to return to the writing, I dug out the manuscript. I figured if I could find one good thing in the pages I would go back to it. Just one good thing. Like flipping a coin, I’d let the pages decide. Spent the whole night reading everything I had written, and guess what? It was still terrible. In fact with the new distance the lameness was even worse than I’d thought. That’s when I should have put everything in the box. When I should have turned my back and trudged into my new life. I didn’t have the heart to go on. But I guess I did. While my fiancée slept, I separated the 75 pages that were worthy from the mountain of loss, sat at my desk, and despite every part of me shrieking no no no no, I jumped back down the rabbit hole again. There were no sudden miracles. It took two more years of heartbreak, of being utterly, dismayingly lost before the novel I had dreamed about for all those years finally started revealing itself. And another three years after that before I could look up from my desk and say the word I’d wanted to say for more than a decade: done.

That’s my tale in a nutshell. Not the tale of how I came to write my novel but rather of how I became a writer. Because, in truth, I didn’t become a writer the first time I put pen to paper or when I finished my first book (easy) or my second one (hard). You see, in my view a writer is a writer not because she writes well and easily, because she has amazing talent, because everything she does is golden. In my view a writer is a writer because even when there is no hope, even when nothing you do shows any sign of promise, you keep writing anyway. Wasn’t until that night when I was faced with all those lousy pages that I realized, really realized, what it was exactly that I am.

Junot Díaz’s novel The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (Riverhead) won the Pulitzer Prize in 2008.

Photo

Sun, 06 Nov 2011 01:12:06 -0700

kellyoxford: Ok. Who the fuck made this?

Thu, 27 Oct 2011 08:11:58 -0700

kellyoxford:

Ok. Who the fuck made this?

I’ve been thinking about Miranda July today. I’ve...

Sat, 22 Jan 2011 18:43:00 -0800

I’ve been thinking about Miranda July today.

I’ve also been thinking about how awesome Tori Amos is at piano. Cornflake Girl is such a bad ass song, and the piano solo around the 2:50 mark (drag the music cursor/marker over to the ‘M’ above the word Miranda in this post) makes me wish I still had a piano in my house. I wouldn’t be able to jam like that, but I’d sit on the piano bench for hours trying to come close.

I was spending most of my time on the outskirts of my hometown,...

Sun, 16 Jan 2011 10:17:11 -0800

I was spending most of my time on the outskirts of my hometown, Lodi, when I heard this song for the first time. I was heavily infatuated with a skinny latina who owned a bunny. The bunny sat in a cage in her room, and, consequently, my eyes were usually puffy and red from my allergic reaction to it. Instead of being suave, I was hacking up a lung. Not one month later, she accidentally left the bunny outside during one of the hottest summer northern California days, and he died from the heat. I was secretly happy about Mr. Bunny’s death, but I would have been just as satisfied if the bunny could have been moved into her mom’s weird doll room.

Her mom was an antique fanatic; their house was filled with little odd trinkets. It was really cool…until I walked into the doll room. Dolls with weird little marble eyes were staring at me from everywhere. I was sure that they would come to life and kill me. Some nights, I would stay over, and I would have to get up to pee. The bathroom was past the doll room’s door, and it was very hard not to piss myself before getting to the bathroom. I was terrified of those dolls.

While I was busy wasting my life away with this cute little latina, I had to take breaks from our intense hang outs for my record store job. While her and I watched Coldplay and At The Drive In on the new MTV2 channel, I would moan and groan about having to go in for work. I literally wanted to spend the rest of my life watching MTV2 with this girl. What a schmuck I was. When I would finally arrive late to work, my coworkers would always reward me by playing new music for me. There was this emo kid who worked at the store, and he was probably the most genuine for his love of music. You could see it oozing out of him; his whole life was music. All of us, at this particular store, absolutely loved music, but I could tell when this emo kid went home, he probably lit candles and incense, popped pills, and listened to Radiohead all night.

On one particular day, when I’d left my girl for work, the emo kid had played this song during my shift. I had known about Pete Yorn because the record label had sent us about five promo copies of this album. They were doing some major marketing on this guy. He’d had a music video on MTV2 called Nancy that I’d fucking hated with a passion, so I’d ignored the promos as did everyone else. Not emo kid. He’d found a gem on Pete Yorn’s record.

I’ll always appreciate that emo kid for showing this song to me. It became my soundtrack over the next year when my whole life changed. I found out that the little latina was cheating on me with her “ex-boyfriend”. Her “ex” and I both broke up with her and became friends. After realizing that I was doing nothing in Lodi besides getting drunk and playing Tetris on N64, I decided to move to San Luis Obispo with my childhood friend and his girlfriend for college. I transferred my record store job to Santa Maria (forty-five minutes away from San Luis Obispo), and “Musicforthemorningafter”, the album with this song on it, played me home every night through the foggy coastal hills.

In 2006, when I recorded the Something About Dreams EP, I referenced this song the producer and engineer for “Lights On The Fire”. I wanted to make my song have that distant memory sound. ”On Your Side” was a huge influence in my life and my music.

Last night, I had a dream where this song was playing in the background. I woke up with these memories.

"Hi Brandon, I had a great holiday…sorry I hadn’t posted grades before today! You ended..."

Fri, 14 Jan 2011 15:35:55 -0800

“

Hi Brandon,

I had a great holiday…sorry I hadn’t posted grades before today!
You ended up (after extra credit, a 95 on the final, and revisions) with a 99% in the class! I think that may be the highest grade I have ever given. Please feel free to gloat.

Take care and keep in touch,

(English Teacher)

”

- Email — Boo Yah!

spring semester.

Fri, 14 Jan 2011 15:03:00 -0800

The spring semester begins next week. I want to worry less about Brangelina and more about my own life. I’d like to document things that actually matter to me instead of cute frogs dancing on lily pads. The next few years of my life should be worth something to document instead of looking back at old posts and wondering why I spent so much time getting caught up in youtube videos. I’m sure there will be more of that. I’m not limiting myself. I just want to be able to review my life and see that there was something important there, not just the Double Rainbow guy.

Tumblr seems to be a bad place to do this because everyone on here reposts animated gifs, but I’m giving it a shot.

Upcoming School Schedule:

Introduction To Structured Programming

English Writing 301 (1B)

Calculus I

I’m reading a book for my English class already. I gave the book a sneak peek, and it consumed me. Check out The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao.

In other news, I’m trying to record demos. I started with “Vampire” because I’d already recorded a version of it, and I thought it would be the easiest. I laid down the acoustic guitar and electric guitar tracks on top of a fat beat that sounds like it’s straight out of nineties rap music. However, the beat is just a tempo keeper. My drummer will lay down the beat when I finish vocals and send it over. That could be a while though. I just got sick yesterday. I’m trying to keep on task and record guitar tracks for other songs this weekend. Hopefully I’ll impress myself and actually do it. I’m so involved with finishing school that it makes the idea of making a record daunting. I don’t have an unlimited flow of cash for a decent studio to press record for me. Sure, I can finish the demos and send them to my band, but then what? We could end up stalling for years. These thoughts hold me back from pouring more money into music. Besides, laying my sick ass down in bed, sipping on a hot cup of tea, and reading up on Oscar Wao sounds tempting.

I’m sure I will do it all. I am lazy, but I like being productive in my laziness. That usually means that I stay in my bedroom whenever I can, and I get things done inside of this box. Recording and studying are both possible for me in the exact spot I am right now. I will be a productive little hermit during the next five months.

The Whole Credit Card Debacle.

Tue, 11 May 2010 14:23:47 -0700

Musicians don’t like business. If a musician likes business, there is something wrong with that musician. Most musicians don’t understand how to get to easy solutions for their business (if you are playing music for money, you have a business… whether you like it or not). Don’t worry though, you’re not alone. I’ve been on the road and stopped off at Jeff’s Snack Shack in the middle of nowhere to satisfy my sweet tooth. Guess what? I didn’t have cash on me. Guess what else? Jeff doesn’t take credit cards. Why? Because Jeff thinks it’s too expensive to accept credit cards (and he’s wrong). Guess who didn’t get a Twix? ME. GUESS WHO IS NEVER GOING BACK TO JEFF’S SNACK SHACK???

Last year, before I hit the road for the first time, I thought it would be wise to be able to accept credit cards for this very reason. Plus, we (the band) is always bitching about not being able to purchase something because a store/restaurant won’t take credit cards). We didn’t want to be like those businesses. The future is plastic. Money will be around, but less people will carry it as more and more places are accepting credit cards. We have to adapt. How?

Last year, options were starting to widen. Before last year, you had to contact a company that sold expensive credit card machines. You had to set up a merchant account. Then the iPhone came along, and so did a commercial that explained how easy it was to accept credit cards on the iPhone. Boo yah. I had an iPhone. I got the app. I created a merchant account, and I started charging people for my merchandise. I also had to pay $25 per month to have a merchant account. It was worth it.

Today, one of the founders of Twitter launched a new company called Square. They allow EVERYONE and their MOTHERS to accept credit cards WITHOUT a merchant account. The future is here. The best part about Square is that there is NO monthly fee (because there is no merchant account). But here’s where it gets tricky.

(BE WARNED: This is the nerdy part of this entry with NUMBERS. If numbers scare you, then don’t read ahead, and please, stop playing music.)

Last year, I checked out a lot of pricing for different companies. If you are a band and you want a credit card terminal, you need to get a wireless terminal (because you move your business to different venues and not all of them have internet access). This means, you will pay about $800-$900 for a terminal. You will also pay for the wireless access and a monthly service charge (with a monthly minimum).

Here’s the bottom line:

Terminal: $800-$900

Monthly Cost: $50

Contract: 2 years

Charge per transaction: 1.09% - 2.5% + $0.25

Here is what Square offers:

Cost of iPad/iPhone/Android: $99 - $499

Cost of Square’s CC Reader/App: FREE

Monthly Cost: $0

Contract: None

Charge per transaction: 2.75% - 3.5% + $0.15

Not only is having an iPhone/iPad cheaper than a wireless credit card terminal, you can do so much more WITH these Apple products. I can check facebook, update shows, BLOG, etc. I can also sell merch using Square’s free app. Once you sign up, they also send you a free credit card reader that plugs into the headphone jack. It’s that easy. Sign up takes about 5 minutes.

So… why wouldn’t you accept credit cards at this point?

I discussed Square with a guy who sold credit card terminals, and we decided that the ONLY way it was better to have a separate credit card terminal is if you sell a CRAPLOAD of merchandise. So if you’re John Mayer or you play Warped Tour every year, you might want to have a wireless credit card terminal. Here’s the difference on percentages and fees per transaction:

The wireless terminal: A CD sold for $10 on this terminal (at 1.09% + $0.25) will cost $0.10 + $0.25 = $0.35 per transaction.

Square: A CD sold for $10 on this app (at 2.75% + $0.15) will cost $0.28 + $0.15 = $0.43 per transaction.

The difference per transaction for a $10 CD is $0.08. Yes, Square is more expensive per transaction. Keep in mind that you aren’t paying monthly fees ($50/month) though. To counteract the monthly service fee, you would have to sell $6,250 worth of merchandise to break even with what Square offers before you dug out of the hole of the monthly fees.

Some of you are thinking about the cost of internet on an iPad/iPhone/Android. If you are only using your iPad/iPhone/Android for Credit Card payments, there is something wrong with you. However, let’s factor in the cost of a data plan. It costs $30/month to have the internet on an iPhone/iPad. If you have an iPad, you do not have a contract. So the difference is STILL $20 per month (which means you would have to sell $2500 of merch per month on the wireless terminal to offset the costs of monthly fees before turning a profit).

So here’s the bottom line folks, if you are a local/indie musician who sells under $2500 of merch per month (and by looking at most local/indie musicians who have other jobs and drive in tour vans that cost about $1000, that’s most of us), Square is for you. Plus, you’ll have a cool gadget that you will allow you to keep in touch with your internet social marketing. If you make more than $2500/month on merch alone, then you probably already knew about everything I just ranted about.

For godsakes, do a favor for your fans/customers (and my band members). Start accepting credit cards.

Fall apart confetti come on cry right on my sleeveI am just a...

Mon, 03 May 2010 14:48:06 -0700

Fall apart confetti come on cry right on my sleeve
I am just a ghost of hearts that break bittersweet…

What it is REALLY like to play in a local/indie band. Welcome...

Mon, 26 Apr 2010 11:01:54 -0700

What it is REALLY like to play in a local/indie band. Welcome to the real world, dreamers!

Collective Soul - Run

Tue, 13 Apr 2010 23:54:03 -0700

Collective Soul - Run

I will not support a company that decides to approve of...

Tue, 13 Apr 2010 23:18:11 -0700

I will not support a company that decides to approve of something this irresponsible.

The hardest part is working and I’ve worked enoughI could stretch that penny like a silver...

Sun, 04 Apr 2010 13:42:21 -0700

The hardest part is working and I’ve worked enough
I could stretch that penny like a silver line
Rolling through the pages of my life
Underneath your name where it’s underlined
I’ve been turned around
I’ve been mystified by a true love

Pure delight.

Sat, 03 Apr 2010 15:33:09 -0700

Pure delight.

where have all the lyrics gone?

Sat, 03 Apr 2010 00:07:22 -0700

i started playing music to connect with people. nowadays there just ain’t anyone left to connect with.

david byrne said lyrics are overrated. he’s right. listen to your favorite rap song and tell me the lyrics or check out your favorite gaga song and read the lyrics. it’s all bullshit. nobody gives a shit about what artists are saying anymore. they just want to drink and dance their way through songs.

heaven forbid an artist like erykah badu comes out with an artistic video that actually makes people think. how horrible thinking is.

as long as everyone stays on their pharmaceuticals and isn’t offered a striking point of view, then the system will stay in place. we can’t have people thinking outside the box anymore.

songs are like candy. they lurk around every single corner. there is no hunting, searching, or special ordering any albums anymore. the candy dispensers are your online stores and your bittorrent sites. they have made music so easily accessible that music has become as dispensable as a candy wrapper. you hold it in your hands for the brief fleeting moment of unwrapping this carefully concocted gift, and then you throw it out as quickly as you purchased it. why? because it’s so easy to access. songs aren’t treasures anymore, they’re sugary dispensable treats. no wonder there isn’t anyone willing to spend the time writing anything worthwhile. songs are as meaningful as they are now treated.

the new music videos are the brief 30 seconds that a hit tv show uses a song for a dramatic ending. this trains the viewer that it’s ok to talk over music. we all do it. music is becoming background noise. i remember when shawn colvin said, “i’ll never forget when I heard james taylor’s ‘fire and rain’. i ran to the record store and bought the single and took it to my friend’s house and told her ‘you have to hear this; it’ll change you life.’” i cannot tell you the last time i heard a friend say that to me. it wasn’t in this last decade.

music used to be all me and my friends had. it’s what we lived for. we would stay in record stores for hours and search for the perfect treasure. we would drive through our city in circles twenty times a night so we could sit next to each other silently and take in songs. lyrics and music. it was an experience.

what is going on these days?

what is the remedy? i will tell you, but i don’t think it will matter. dedicate an hour a day to music. full uninterrupted music. do not talk on the phone. turn it off. do not knit or watch baseball or make dinner. just listen. sing. think about the lyrics… if they have anything to do with losing a phone in a club, find another song with more substance. think about memories. associate those lyrics with those memories. what song makes you think about your first love? what song reminds you of going to san francisco with your best friends? what song makes you think of loneliness? let it all in… and don’t let anything stop you from allowing the music to make you FEEL. PUT AWAY YOUR FUCKING GADGETS AND FEEL SOMETHING AGAIN! be selfish. feel for yourself. let the songs in. let them affect you like you allow jesus to. go to the church of music and offer up your soul.

this is the only way music will be saved. by you.

Sonicbids is a Scam.

Wed, 31 Mar 2010 00:56:00 -0700

Taking money from starving artists should get you a one way ticket to hell. It’s the most shameful thing venues and promoters do. Pay-to-play is disgusting, and Sonicbids is a website that is exactly that. Pay-to-submit to be a part of this compilation, gig, etc…. when in reality, they are just building up an artist’s desires all in the sake of taking their money. It really should be illegal. Read below to see what’s really going on with independent local artists and the scams that we endure every single corner we turn.

—

If you’ve ever used SonicBids, please read this and rethink what youre paying for..

(from a message board):

The CMJ Music Marathon, which takes place in NYC in October, may be rethinking their decision to use online submission site Sonicbids to do handle their band applications. To submit, a band had to pay a nonrefundable fee of $45. A major screwup by the site may just have shed some light on one of the organizations dirty little secrets.

Today, an email went out to a large number of bands telling them they were on “Standby” status, and to email the CMJ showcase director to let them know which days they might be able to play. About an hour later, the same bands received an email from CMJ Showcase Coordinator Robyn Baskin saying the following:

“There is a bug in Sonicbids system and the wrong email was sent out to many people. Sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused. This is the email that you should have received:

It is with regret that we inform you we are unable to find a slot for you to perform at CMJ Music Marathon 2007.

Please realize that you made it through a number of rounds in the selection process and the music that you are making caught our attention for one reason or another. Unfortunately, the sheer number of applicants in relation to the number of clubs in NY makes it impossible for us to give every deserving band a slot at the festival, and while it may not be much consolation, we did try our best to accommodate as many acts as possible, including yours.”

Fair enough. Standard rejection letter. However, Baskin made the regrettable error of listing the email addresses of all 675 bands that got the email, rather than putting them as blind carbon copy. Within minutes, the predictable and pathetic self promotional spam started coming in, from bands who apparently decided that other CMJ-denied bands are a good target market. But then it got interesting.

One emailer noted, in a less-than-friendly email to Baskin, that “Apart from the fact that we are now open to a bunch of spam, it has also brought to my attention that sonic bids has collected the $45 fee from at least 670 bands ($30,450) knowing full well that you could never accommodate all of the bands.” Soon the folks at Shiny Little Records pointed out a little known statistic that comes with every Sonicbids account.

“Check your SonicBids account and see how many plays you received. Ours, attached, shows that there were NO plays of any of our music by anyone (CMJ was the only ap we submitted). $45 should at the very least mean that they get an intern to click play on your song once. How sloppy. Yes, I think a refund, apology, and full explanation are in order.”

Soon it became apparent that there were a large number of bands who hadn’t had their music even listened to. Now hey, anyone who doesn’t know that Sonicbids is a sham hasn’t been around the business very long, but it’s a different story when you are forced to use the site to submit for a major industry festival. At $45 per band, it’s hardly just a “cover our administrative costs” fee. It’s a profit center, and as such, they owe proper consideration to every band who throws down the money, and at the minimum, three minutes to listen to the song they submitted.

-Taken from http://www.ultimate-guitar.com/forum/archive/index.php/t-690269.html

From John Mayer

Thu, 25 Mar 2010 00:25:31 -0700

From John Mayer:

maddiej:

johnnyminardi:

nicholasscimeca:

I’m not sure if it’s a function of advancing age or just the times we’re living in, but it’s almost impossible for me to find complete external validation in any one thought, desire, instinct or vision anymore.

Who do you want to be exactly like? Is there anybody in this world who’s laid down a template for your dreams and goals that you’d copy and paste over your own life’s story? Maybe you want to go to a music college as I did when I decided to attend Berklee College of Music in Boston. Start asking some alums whether it’s worth it and you’ll get two distinct answers. One half of the control group will tell you it’s not worth it, that you might as well just start a band and hit the road. The other half will tell you that it was the flash point for their music career and that without it they’d be nowhere. The answer depends on the experience had by each person you talk to. Maybe the “Nos” spent their semesters curled up in a ball fighting with their boyfriend or girlfriend on the phone and never applied themselves to making the most of the time there. You’ll never find the answer you want, just information with which to build your own idea and chart your own course.

Take your favorite artist, the one you look up to and see as the perfect specimen of talent, values, output, whatever the case may be - and someone else has a reason why they’re not worth even a passing glance. Is “Bob Dylan: Don’t Look Back” the documentary of a genius iconoclast or was he a self absorbed pseudo-intellectual bully? It depends on who you ask. Is Jay-Z the reigning king of hip hop or is he “all business” now? It depends on who you ask. I bring up both names because if you ask me, I put them at the top of my list of people who can do very little if no wrong at all, but it won’t take long to read someone’s opposing point of view. If you’re not sure of what you love, that means you can be talked out of it, and that’s a slippery slope.

Is your boyfriend cute? Was Hurt Locker the best movie of the year? Are you going to go out in those shoes? Should you take the promotion and move to Boston? Did I wear “Hammer” pants on stage in Houston or is Rick Owens a visionary clothing designer?

It all depends on who you ask.

Which is a pretty great reason to stop asking all together. Nobody’s life template will ever lay evenly over yours. And in those times when they clash completely, you have to walk alone, with confidence that you’re creating your own template, made out of your own instincts and your own dreams and your own goals. And if you do it long enough, maybe someone someday will look to yours as the life to model theirs after. Of course, some people won’t agree with them. It will all depend on who they ask.

My Top 5 Artists (Week Ending 2010-3-21)

Wed, 24 Mar 2010 01:50:59 -0700

My Top 5 Artists (Week Ending 2010-3-21)

My Top 5 Artists (Week Ending 2010-3-14)

Fri, 19 Mar 2010 16:46:14 -0700

My Top 5 Artists (Week Ending 2010-3-14)

Steel Panther - Community Property My heart belongs to...

Sat, 13 Mar 2010 11:39:31 -0800

Steel Panther - Community Property

My heart belongs to you…

But my cock is community property.