Hell is Being Trapped with Your Friends

Last night, Mark S texted me, asking to meet for a drink and talk. The drink was a plastic bottle of coke, and the talk was on a cold beach at 2200. He'd had a stressful day, but wouldn't say exactly what was stressful about it - he just wanted someone to unwind with to get over it.

Seeing as his friends are stoned/drunk/both most of the time, his girlfriend is more girl than friend, and his parents are the strong silent types (but without the strength), it seems I'm the resident nice guy who isn't a threat.
Tonight was a troublesome recording session. Paul played four good guitar tracks, which I recorded and then somehow lost. We rerecorded, but it wasn't anything like as good.

Anna, being more talented and more of a trooper than us, got four good vocal takes in spite of sore throat and tierdness. More recording on Monday.

Final mixing and mastering will be contentious. Paul wants his guitar so loud it swamps the drums and vocals. As producer, it's my job to make the end product sound good in spite of the musician's opinions.
On impulse, I wrote most of a song for SongFight ("Hooker Pumps"). It won't be finished in time, but it can be labeled as one of those doomed little projects that make 'good practice'.

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