Drums, thumbs, and automohums.

I've been trying to get my grubby anti-primogentrist hands on my grandfathers old trumpet. In the quest, or probably by some cruel karmatic whim stemming from the immense amount of time gone by since I last visited him, I now am in a nearly coincidental posession of a very dirty clarinet, sans reeds.

That'll come along then, for sure.

I'm not sure what to do about a drumset. It's pretty key, I'd say, if I want to be playing the drumset next year. I don't think I can get my stuff and my set up to Montreal together, so I'm gonna craigslist and eBay around and maybe happen upon a compromise of sorts.

I stopped by my brother in law's to " you know just mess around for a while, cause Doug's gonna bring his bass and my friend Nick is up from [town in Jersey]."
My brother in law likes to play house of the rising sun and pseudo-country ditties for my nephews, and has introduced me to such sedate and pleasing bands as "the anniversary" and "the fire theft"
Apparently, before he met my sister he played a different kind of music.

Some memorable quotes from the evening:
Nick: "So you're all hardcore vets, right. I mean, you've all played in at least one hardcore band before, right"

Mike: "So how'd you like my new amp"
Nick: It was pretty loud.
Mike: It was on 1.5
Nick: (Things I couldn't hear because that eardrum had been torn to shreads)
Mike: Yeah, it's louder than a half-stack. It's the loudest amp you can get for it's size.

Nick: No, don't play off the beat. Just play faster.

faster, louder, we were calling out to Jim all the way from PA. My arm was crying like every 2 minute song was a ten-minute ballad.

And you know, it was kinda fun.
(but I still can't hear right on the left).