So, I’m a little pasty this morning, owing to celebrating our friend Linda’s birthday last night, followed by a rather boisterous band practice. I’m feeling a little spun up and bashed. Can you actually see my hair from where you’re sitting? Because it’s huge. I look like Brian May. (See illustration.)

ILLUSTRATION

I posted the picture for the hair, but that cape is truly off the cob. If only I had a pleated satin cape. My life would be perfect. That cape, combined with his serene expression and his thighs, which appear to be those of an eleven-year-old girl. Those three elements together would make my life perfect. Because I already have my own guitar and the aforementioned giant hair. In essence, I am already Brian May, but in girl form, with larger thighs.

Maybe I shouldn’t joke about things like wanting a pleated satin cape, the laws of attraction being what they are (i.e., immutable and all-governing). It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to end up with a cape like that, or with really slender thighs, although there’s always the chance that all the weight could just migrate to my forearms, creating difficulty in holding musical instruments and cocktails. I lack faith that my wish will come true without ironic consequences, so perhaps it’s best to just clear my mind and not think about that white bear.

For the past couple of days, I’ve been sporadically reading Bob Larson’s book on Evil rock, adding my own helpful comments in the margins. I finally sent it off to my brother, whose birthday is today, to aid in his spiritual development. The main thing I gleaned from the book is a list of excellent Evil rock songs my band can cover. “Get Down, Make Love,” for instance, by Queen. "Unprintable chorus!" screams Mr. Larson. "Perfect!" screams me.

The book mentions another Evil rock song, one I’ve been hoping to cover. Let’s call it “Crazy Sugar,” which is not its name, but let’s call it that anyway, so I don't reveal what the song actually is and cause you to ridicule me. Last week, I downloaded it, and made a mix CD called “Crazy Sugar Mix!” The next day, my boss came in to work and spontaneously announced that “Crazy Sugar” is the worst song ever, which only cemented my interest in covering it. The artist who performs it had one other semi-hit with a song that has to be the least-authentic chronicle of a nautical voyage ever, but never topped "Crazy Sugar." No, no, no, you just can't top that "Crazy Sugar." (Whatever.)

I have a genuine fondness for “Crazy Sugar,” and I brought it up last night at practice. Nobody else knew the song, but when I named the artist—let’s call him Fred Q. Shaheen—one of our friends, who was hanging around to run the tape recorder for us, recognized the name. “That’s my friend’s dad!” he said, and went on to state that Mr. Shaheen has a house not far from where we were practicing, with a fab recording studio, and everything. Our friend text-messaged his pal immediately, to let her know of our love of “Crazy Sugar.”

So… the way I see it, Mr. Shaheen should be calling any minute to offer the use of his fabulous recording studio free of charge. Maybe he will even sing back-up on our cover of “Crazy Sugar”! Then we could go on tour. That would be so great.

In that case, I will definitely need that cape.

Star of the day. . .Ethan -- Happy A-Day!!