According to reliable sources, Steven is leaving town for another one of his eccentric summers. This time, he wants to append the letters MS and CPA to the end of his name. Is he selling his soul for rock and roll, or just selling his soul?
"Think of it as performance art," says the idiot who is certainly walking into a lifetime of unhappiness doing the most boring work known to man. "I want my certification printed onto our future liner notes and press materials, to distinguish me from the Hong Kong pop star."
That is, of course, if the band has a future. Maybe the writing was already on the wall at Sculpted Static's first gig at the No Future Cafe. Without our resident bean counter's trademark keyboards and harmonies, how will the band survive? And even if it does, will Steven's spirit-crushing job as a certified public accountant destroy his ability to write music?
"That's a good question, Neon. But as we all know, my greatest hits have been written during situations that really highlighted the meaninglessness of life," says the sorry excuse for an artist. "For instance, I have been quite prolific since I took a job as a bookkeeper. But don't get me wrong---it's a great job. As long as I do my work and know my shit, no one cares about my socially awkward and misanthropic behavior. The same cannot be said about the more glamorous industries, such as the media, just the thought of which makes me uncomfortable."
Well, Steven doesn't have to worry about people talking to him, since he has now marked himself with the brand of a bona-fide lunatic, to be avoided at all costs.
"It's a phase," says Arta. "He'll snap out of it, just like that publishing thing. Now where's my pick?"
No comments:
Post a Comment