Cyclecide Tour: Until the End of the World

In cyclecide bike rodeo by summerburkes0 Comments

Nov. 2, 2004
election night
New Orleans, LA

Alright, so we’re in the Big Easy, and we’ve been here for a week. We’ve played three shows, and did we mention it’s New Orleans on Halloween? … As you might’ve guessed, this is not a situation that’s conducive to squirreling away for some alone-time to update a Weblog. Sorry for all who have checked back and found no new news … wait for the novel someday, and don’t hold your breath.

We could write some today, if it weren’t for the fact that our nation is in the throes of the most important election of our lifetime and we’re all glued to the television. All we can say is, we kinda skeered.

We will say this.

Please, someone bathe us. Someone exfoliate every inch of our body, and wash our hair four times and give it a deep-conditioning treatment and then even out all the different shades of red and blond and brown in this tangled, dessicated mop of what used to be hair.

Someone scrape the fuzz off our teeth and clean them like a dentist, and floss them too, and fill the cavities that we’re sure we’ve accumulated since the days when we had health insurance.

Someone pluck our eyebrows, soak our hands, push our cuticles back, paint our nails, and microdermabrate and moisturize our face. Someone give us a hot tub and some yoga classes and at least 10 massages, because we haven’t felt right since the wreck.

Someone get rid of our sinus infection, bronchitis, stomach pain, back pain, cuts, scrapes, headaches, and extreme, unending muscle soreness. Someone put us on a juice fast, pump us full of vitamins, teach us meditation, and wash our liver out clean and re-install it.

Someone give us a nice, hip, sexy outfit to wear. Someone remind us how to put non-klown makeup on, and put us in some high-heeled shoes, a short skirt, and opaque tights to hide the bruises.

Someone give us some lipgloss and a reason to dress up and go out anywhere else besides a bar, a fellow carny’s junky house, or a parking lot.

We feel like a cake that’s been left out in the rain.

We’re not complaining. We’re just saying.

my best side

our best side

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