In which our hero, who was born to write songs, tries to figure out his life with help from the interviewer.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
I go outside!
Who was playing guitar out there earlier today? A friend of yours? It sounded very good.
That was me, you fuckin' numskull.
Couldn't have been you, farmboy. You never go outside.
Fuck off, asshole. I go outside!
When?
I was just outside playing guitar, man. That's who you fuckin' heard.
See, it's a beautiful warm and sunny day and I'm taking tomorrow off and I just smoked some weed and I thought I'd go outside and play guitar.
And how was it?
You heard it.
I don't mean performance, farmboy. I'm talking about your emotions. How did it feel to go outside and play guitar.
Fine, I guess.
You guess?
Of course it felt good. I mean, the sun is warm but not that warm, and you're barefoot and you doing something that you love. What's not to fuckin' like?
So you admit it: it felt good.
Yes, it felt good. It was fuckin' orgasmic, motherfucker. I was having revelations. It was like being on acid, man! It was like I was one of the motherfuckin' Beatles. It was like being Dylan, you know, or Sam Cooke. Let me shout it to the Heavens! I can testify! Playing guitar on a warm and sunny day outside is fuckin' amazing!
There. Are you satisfied?
Yes.
Good.
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