Bloated, trimmed, and bloated once again. Consistency is not our strong suit. Assuming we have a strong suit.
The above illustration, as drafted by the humblingly talented Autumn Whitehurst, rests in my living room in multiples of 120, nearly nine times over. This image is the cover image for the album Safe As Houses by Parenthetical Girls--roughly one thousand of which are currently making tidy living a virtual impossibility. The record is done done done done--the final state of done-ness in an oppressively lengthy series of semi-completions--which means that there is no more doing left to be done. Sort of. They're in the shrinkwrap, at any rate. The record's not officially "available" until June 27th, but there might be a few sneaky ways to cop a copy earlier than that, if you're into that sort of thing. I'll post a track sometime this week. This is all part of our vain campaign to promote a faint air of anticipation. Other considerations: a street team of young go-getters with elaborately designed rave flyers, and a misguided subliminal marketing campaign in which we enlist subversive librarians everywhere to let their hair down (suggestively) and highlight every "(" and ")" in their respective branch's card catalog drawers. Stay tuned. UPDATE:
There were four and then there were three, and now four again. Cobbling, as per usual. Maybe we'll play a show this time before shit implodes. Hopefully. Probably. Things are feeling increasingly solid. Multiple anatomical women? Yes, my good man, they are. I assure you. The latest incarnation of Parenthetical Girls--if all goes as planned--will probably maybe be making their debut on Sunday June 4th in Seattle, opening for the illustrious Young People. Cut us some slack, if you show up. Former touring Parenthetical Girl Sam Mickens is still clinging to the payroll, busy working as our official booking agent for the West Coast jaunt in July. I think he's found his true calling. Coming to a city near you, if you happen to live within a few hundred miles of the Pacific.
cordially,
zac.
The previous entry: Simply Fuss Free.
The next entry: Act III: Wherein We Return to Claim Our Sainthood
More entries in the Archives
