okay..last story of the night
lately i've been ignoring my blog and by lately i mean probably a year or two. I've been 'Verbal Blogging' and 'Instant Message Rambling.'
yeah...life story as it matters to you in a sentence, last story of the night happens now:
I had a roommate way back when. How far back? Betweeen 1 and 100 years. Let's call him 'Dustin.' After moving to ___ from ___ (about 3000 miles - put it together) I started a band with a guy that coincidentally had grown up with him. And had been in a band with him and and and and and... And then all his friends were my friends and everybody knew each other from here and there and insanity ensued. Next point...
Dustin had a number of unusual qualities. One that needs to be dealt with at the beginning so that it never comes up again is that he had a _____ so long that he could ______ it. For real, i shit you not. This is not a an embellishment. He rarely left the house. He also was the last person GG Allin ever gave a black eye to.
What he did in the meantime during his senior year at super big deal art school was study minstrel banjo music and build banjos from scratch. Minstrel banjos. These things were made with sticks that he attached to gourds that were dried in the oven. He would play the old time old timey music on them. There was an underground back then too and that was his area of study. Senior year. He did a whole presentation about it. Well documented. There was a live performance component and six hand-made prize banjos . He got an F.
He, of course, complained to the dean. After about 2 seconds of consideration the dean awarded him an A and probably some merit of "achievement like acknowledgability" that might have mattered more than to him than pretty mch nothing at all but I doubt it. Apparently bitching and moaning isn't as useless as the sqeaky wheel never used to...ok you get it, i think.
After graduating he took off on a vacation to the south with his girlfriend and they visited a number of sites that were related to his study. Completely randomly (according to eyewitnesses, but I believe them) they passed a banjo factory in kentucky but otherwise in the middle of nowhere one early evening.
They stopped to check it out. After requesting a tour they were introduced to the owner who was on site and they ended up hanging out with him until the wee hours drinking whiskey and talking shit. 'Dustin' told him the story of his banjophobic 'professor-like entity' and his resulting struggle and, of couse, his love for banjo history.
They crashed out there, got on their way the next morning and that was that.
ok, I kind of forget the timeline but, probably about 2 weeks to 3 months later 'Dustin' got a 'phone' 'call' from a 'person'. He was told the owner of the factory he had visited had died and left the factory to him.
Ok seriously, no shit, this happened.
At first Dustin was against the whole idea. He's not a business man, He'll ruin it; but, he did inherit in the end and runs it to this day. last I heard.
yeah...life story as it matters to you in a sentence, last story of the night happens now:
I had a roommate way back when. How far back? Betweeen 1 and 100 years. Let's call him 'Dustin.' After moving to ___ from ___ (about 3000 miles - put it together) I started a band with a guy that coincidentally had grown up with him. And had been in a band with him and and and and and... And then all his friends were my friends and everybody knew each other from here and there and insanity ensued. Next point...
Dustin had a number of unusual qualities. One that needs to be dealt with at the beginning so that it never comes up again is that he had a _____ so long that he could ______ it. For real, i shit you not. This is not a an embellishment. He rarely left the house. He also was the last person GG Allin ever gave a black eye to.
What he did in the meantime during his senior year at super big deal art school was study minstrel banjo music and build banjos from scratch. Minstrel banjos. These things were made with sticks that he attached to gourds that were dried in the oven. He would play the old time old timey music on them. There was an underground back then too and that was his area of study. Senior year. He did a whole presentation about it. Well documented. There was a live performance component and six hand-made prize banjos . He got an F.
He, of course, complained to the dean. After about 2 seconds of consideration the dean awarded him an A and probably some merit of "achievement like acknowledgability" that might have mattered more than to him than pretty mch nothing at all but I doubt it. Apparently bitching and moaning isn't as useless as the sqeaky wheel never used to...ok you get it, i think.
After graduating he took off on a vacation to the south with his girlfriend and they visited a number of sites that were related to his study. Completely randomly (according to eyewitnesses, but I believe them) they passed a banjo factory in kentucky but otherwise in the middle of nowhere one early evening.
They stopped to check it out. After requesting a tour they were introduced to the owner who was on site and they ended up hanging out with him until the wee hours drinking whiskey and talking shit. 'Dustin' told him the story of his banjophobic 'professor-like entity' and his resulting struggle and, of couse, his love for banjo history.
They crashed out there, got on their way the next morning and that was that.
ok, I kind of forget the timeline but, probably about 2 weeks to 3 months later 'Dustin' got a 'phone' 'call' from a 'person'. He was told the owner of the factory he had visited had died and left the factory to him.
Ok seriously, no shit, this happened.
At first Dustin was against the whole idea. He's not a business man, He'll ruin it; but, he did inherit in the end and runs it to this day. last I heard.
