In the afternoon, Shawn came by the Studio and picked me up to take me to the annual Scream Picnic at Alysian Park, next to Dodger Stadium. She brought 'Shaft' , her pet Chihuahua. It took us forever to find the exact spot where everybody was at because there were like a million families having barbecues there since the park is free.
Sticky kids run wild, and nobody pick's up their dog's shit.
I told Shawn to look for the group of people wearing all black, sitting around a sea of Budweiser cans and under a dark cloud of cigarette smoke. Sure enough, in no time we found our people, exactly as I had described them to her. Everyone looked all white and pasty, as if they had never seen the light of day, which they probably hadn't in a very, very long time. Most of the rockers are professional freeloaders who mooch off of their groupie girlfriends who have jobs, and the guys stay at home all day in front of the tube with a bowl of Cap'n Crunch in one hand, the remote in the other, and the 3 foot bong between their legs waiting by the phone for their big break. But, I guess that all rockstars have to start off somewhere so that they can all say that they came from humble beginnings.