Lenny calls from the airport. “Brother, there’s no one left to hold my hand.” I hear what…
Since 2003 I’ve not been on a plane. I don’t have fear of dying. Dying is afraid…
I was on a state highway in Texas. It was about 10 PM. I listened to the radio for the last 40 miles into Denton.
It sounded like the Texas I knew, all right. Twang, metal, hype. How ‘bout them Cowboys!
I was going to Denton to shoot some videos and record some songs with Bob Hate and Stephen Thomas, roughly two-fifths of The Eddy Band.
Stephen’s first band nickname was so obscene it actually became cool over the years. It was succinct and entirely filthy.
It cannot be written here. But sometimes words you leave out are just as good as words you leave in, I think.