00:27: going thru some back mail from the jazz list. apparently, i couldn't find khali during the night of the fete because he was holed up in el botin, jamming with cooky and tots tolentino. jim a, who i think runs the jazz list i'm in, said:
I think Karl wants to auditon for a jazz gig, he could be the local Buble with tatoos.
don't. please don't. stick to rock. please. i'm begging you.
of course, my dear brother, i will probably never tell you this to your face, and i'm only posting it here becuase no one gives a shit and you'll never read this, anyway. but... i hate the way you constantly use the shirt-stripping as a scapegoat. everytime you miss a line or some such thing, you take your shirt off, then the crowd goes wild and lets the mistake pass. please. don't bring that to the jazz scene.
or maybe i'm just being bitter.
confession. i want to sing. not just guitar + song hits + toma till 5am singing, although that's great, too. i mean SING.
i envy how mishka and cooky just jam freely with (imho) some of asia's best jazz artists. or how khali, no matter what he does, has enough of a name to be heard. or how wev gets paid a handful of dough just for humming, for fuck's sake!
i know you guys are thinking "why don't you just go on and sing?" i have been surrounded by great voices my whole life. take a look at my family and friends... how many of these guys can sing, and i mean really sing? then take a look at me.
no, i shouldn't be up there.
brewed by lifecafe
