I found your next favorite album and group. You’re welcome.
Went in the water a third time today because fuck it. Now I look like a lumberjack of the ocean who fronts an eighties synth band.
THE CREATOR OF THE WALKING DEAD TOOK OVER PRODUCTION OF SUPERFIGHT. That is what I have wanted to yell for months, and have only just this minute been allowed to say. I went to them to ask them to make a Walking Dead expansion. They said yes, and that they want to help with everything. While leaving me in place for creative decisions. Now I’m heading to San Diego to speak on a panel with Kirkman and Norman Reedus (Daryl on The Walking Dead) about the future of Skybound (Kirkman’a company) and Superfight. At the same time, I was asked by Wizard World to fly around the country and play the game on celebrity panels. That is my life now. It’s perfect. This means great things for Superfight. That’s obvious. But anyone who thinks that’s where my excitement ends hasn’t been paying attention to me. Because more importantly, it means amazing things for Find the Starlight. I know Find the Starlight is weird. And hard to follow. That was intentional. It won’t always be that way. And now that this is my life, it is about to become something nobody is ready for. Least of all me. So that’s it. I took lemons, made lemonade, froze that lemonade in the shape of a club, and used that club to beat the shit out of this life and its stupid lemon-handing face.
"GRANDMA’S MY NAME & SPOILIN’S MY GAME." I want to get this license plate frame. Then I’ll pull up to people at red lights and yell shit like "SNAPE KILLS DUMBLEDORE." Then I’ll flip them off, smoke my tires, and speed away. Then I’ll wait for them at the next light. When they get there, I’ll say "Oh, and my name is Grandma." Then we will all laugh, and I’ll find a new therapist.
Pretty good morning.
Went to get coffee today. Found out after talking for a bit that one of the guys who works there owns Superfight. And a guy three seats down from us had played it. I don’t think I’ll ever come down from how high I got off of that.
After what has been far too long a wait in so many ways, I will finally be able to explain myself on Monday.
So I’m standing there watching the kids on a ride. These two guys and a lady walk up, then stop and have a conversation within licking distance of my face. The picture didn’t quite capture it, but the other dude is RIGHT in front of me. So I decided to make it a little endurance test. He starts talking about where they are going to eat. I start yelling senseless shit to my kids who are on a loud ride and who clearly cannot hear me. Because between the two of us, I’m still the one more aware of the fact that there are other people on earth. So I’m yelling shit like RIDE THE LIGHTNING, CHAMP! And they stay. He can feel my breath. But he knows I’m holding my ground. He asks where they should eat. Again. I say “Chili’s.” And that was apparently the final straw. Because they left. Probably to get some queso and be horrible.
I’ve gone ahead and made this easier on everyone.
Go fuck yourself, humankind.
Unsolicited fact about myself: I listen to this before going on stages. The whole album if there is time, Headlines if there isn’t. These days it’s pretty much on loop. Say what you want about whatever you want, but not about this album, and not in front of me unless you want to talk about it.
This hotel’s pillow game is off point.
I feel like this has probably been said a lot throughout history. I can’t explain why. You agree. And you can’t explain why either.