I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess these idiots went a little overkill on the camp fire.
They really should just leaf things to me instead of branching out on their own.
At least that wood truncate the need to fix things later.
I elm annoyed.
I am Cone Alone.
I am not pumped to be around these losers.
I can’t intake it anymore.
I am Cone Alone.
I am so tired of you!
You never get me and you conestantly berate me.
If you’re not going to understand me, I wish you’d just pipe down.
I am Cone Alone.
I feel so alone in the universe. In my little corner.
No one else is out there.
I will never find someone to connect to.
Hello?
Can anyone hear me?
I am Cone Alone.
I had not seen these guys in years. I remember the first time I heard Look-Ka Py Py. I never had an interest in playing bass guitar until then. As soon as I heard them, all the licks stood out to me like a shamrock in a field of roses.
That was then.
I haven’t picked up a bass guitar in, well, longer than I can remember. When I heard they were playing again, I just had to go see them.
As I stood in the crowd, I looked around. Surrounding me were cones clearly into the music, into the sound and grooving to the funk. Me? I was in a funk of my own. How could I have come so far from my love of music? Why was I working 50 hours a week at an unfulfilling job?
I wish the slap of the bass would slap me awake.
I am Cone Alone.
Thanks so much for the help you lazy-ass cone. No, really. I’ll just pull this post by myself. Don’t worry about me at all.
My life is such a drag.
I am Cone Alone.
No privacy.
Never any privacy.
I found a tree. I found a safe spot. Then these jokers appeared.
But I can’t tell them. I can’t tell them to leave. And, really I don’t want them to.
I am secretly needy. I am secretly clingy. I am aloof, but afraid to be isolated.
I am Cone Alone.
It takes two to tango.
It also takes two to see-saw.
I am Cone Alone.
Our relationship has ups and downs.
Lately, something has come between us.
I am Cone Alone.
We’ve been on the same jobs for over 20 years. We’ve nearly been hit, almost drowned, been struck by lightning and had a quantity of scrapes, bruises and flesh wounds that verges on innumerable.
In ’88 we were on a job in Pittsburgh out near the interstate. A distracted driver nearly swerved right into us.
In the summer of 1995 we worked the concert for some ska band or something called Captain Hookey. We both had beer (maybe some piss) on us that night.
Last summer [2011], we were stuck on a beach a little too close to comfort to some potentially shark-infested waters. I’ve never liked the ocean and I particularly don’t like anything that could snap me in two without batting a fin.
Years, near misses and close calls normally bring coworkers together and forge a bond that will last a lifetime.
This will be one of our last jobs together. We have never spoken to each other.
I am Cone Alone.
Cone Alone 