I make no promises, but I hope to update this blogggg more in ‘08.

Things to look forward to:

Yeayh the Movie (a documentary film about the Yeayh era [spelling subject to change] of rock music)
The return of Codcast’s James Hollingberry
Belgian Ale
Malt Liquor
Alcohol Energy Drinks
More stupidity than you can imagine

but also:

A new site with some kind of serial comic
More Turk and Jim I hope finally
Boring Macaw

and then there’s:

More and more real writing
Kowloon Walled City’s rise to overlordship
Little Journey’s rise to actually playing one show
Other things no one can anticipate (hopefully of the fortunate variety)
So, like, happy new year, merry whatever you celebrate, see you in 2008.

Everybody’s favorite critter that shoots flames from its anus! Santa!

It’s that time of year again, Tapir Fans! The time during which we display our holiday spirit and generous admiration of the mighty tapir!

Here’s the first. What a magical time of year!

Dear California,

You can grow anything in your fertile soil. Fucking anything. Avocados. Oranges. Pistachios. Lemons. Anything. All year.

So tell me: why can’t I find any decent apple cider here? In the crisp autumn type months (known here as “Winter”), I should be able to get fresh, bold and delicious cider. Do I have to ship it in from Washington? Am I missing something? Even you, healthfood store–I thought you might have some good unpasteurized, un-watered-down cider, but nope. What the fuck. Oh, and Safeway–this is not fucking cider. It’s just barely not apple juice.

Sincerely,

Ciderfan118391

Dear Ohio,

Your cider ruled. I remember going to the orchard in Autumn and picking apples fresh from the tree, and eating them right there. We’d head home with bags of them, along with gallons of mind-blowing fresh cider. So fucking delicious. Help me.

Sincerely,

Ciderfan118391

I play the drop-A# bowel-churning guitar in Kowloon Walled City. At extreme volume. It takes paint off the walls. It kills speakers with impunity. It hurts real good.

I play with a bassist who has mad chops and seems to know every song ever written. I play with a guitarist who is a bassist in disguise and frontmans (new verb) with a vision, removing the swing from riffs and deftly offering up his throat to metal-scream sacrifice. I play with the most impeccably tuned drummer I’ve played with. He beats the shit out of his drums. We tell him to “go off.” We say, “Hey Jeff, go off.”

We are named after the stubborn fortress of sin, lust, greed and squalor that kept the establishment at bay for many years in Hong Kong. If nothing else, you know it as the setting of the Kumate in the movie Bloodsport. Wikipediaize yourself.

We’re relatively new, having just played our first show last month here in SF at Thee Parkside. We recorded a first batch of songs. You can get good mp3s of them at our website. You can of course MySpace us too. You can even YouTube us, and get visual evidence that as a mild Midwestern type, when I think I’m going apeshit, I’m not actually moving around that much after all.

We just got written up on Built on a Weak Spot, which is a pretty cool blog for our type of music (the heavy type). Half the bands I review or write about today have press kits that consist mostly of blog quotes. So now we have a press kit.

2008 will be the year of the Walled City. I wanted you to know.