Ahhh the Wednesday night at the Flinders Hotel slot. She’s a tough one. Up there with a Tuesday at X&Y, the metal slot at the bald faced stag parramatta rd or a some limp dick mixed bill at hibernian. Those shows that make you ask "what the fuck am i doing? playing this bullshit music that everyone hates, lugging this piece of shit amplifier up and down stairs, spending hundreds of dollars on rehearsal spaces, repairs, misc bullshit like leads for a rider of 2 midstrength lagers when some bitch with an ipod makes 5 times as much as my entire band at some shit cunt warehouse party at some Uber only accessible warehouse in fucking woollahra?"
but on you go, filled with dying passion, a martyr for your vague and fleeting craft, slowly becoming a fucking washed up alcoholic piece of shit unable to maintain a steady relationship with anyone or anything apart from your sense of duty to scattered, untenable concepts of music, writing and art
also $5 locals come along!