I’ve got nothing left. I’m spent. This week has been the tightrope shit-show from hell. As Montgomery Burns found out on ‘The Simpsons’ when he tried to get monkeys to type out the greatest novel of all time: “It was the best of times, it was the blurst of times.”
We’re deep into it now, we Canadians, the meat and potatoes of winter. There’s snow everywhere, the winds are howling, and you risk frostbite every time you peep outside the door to see if the stalactites hanging from the eaves have killed the postman yet. Or if the sidewalk ice got to him first.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 