Dear Xanga,

(The official xanga of the last picture show a band committed to bringing truth, style, and phat beats to a world addicted to the soothing properties of crack cocaine and crystal meth)

I bet you thought i had forgotten all about you, like a child concieved at junior prom or a dusty clown suit under photographs of the neighbor's children running through the sprinklers.  No, i have been waiting, waiting for something truly great, something that will grip the foundations of the very earth by the hips and commence to shaking it.  Yeah, shaking it rough, tough like a rock, wet like a dock, and hard like a...   rooster. the most awesome rooster ever

the rooster is addicted to attention, attention that can only be givin at shows, shows that can only happen the 12 of august or the 23 or september.  and im pretty sure its better than sex with a chicken.

bye yall

nathan 

Dear Xanga,

(the offical xanga of the last picture show, a band surviving in the minds of a few, the pants of a couple, and an ocean of the internet)

I dont know why you have such a whore lately, my dear Xanga.  You deny everything but i see you staring at them, yeah, they might be cool with their hair and shirts and buttons.  What? what is that you say, i am perfect just the way i am? if it was true, you wouldnt keep telling me that their guy's lip ring is so sexy.  Why dont you try a little less looking here http://myspace.com/thistragicmemory and a little more looking here http://myspace.com/thelastpictureshow or even some listening.

If i mean so much to you, why dont you get in your little car and drive to brookhaven on the tenth of september to shake it.  or maybe you are too cool for that now.  yeah, you cant move your hips back and forth a little, but ive seen you throwin those fists around.  you're such a little slut i bet you go all the way to hattiesburg and see the hardcore people instead.

well, xanga, wait until we get shirts, girls sawed in half? heck no.  we're going with cupcakes and disco balls everyone loves cupcakes and disco balls, you cannot resist

bye

nathan

Dear Xanga,

( the official xanga of the last picture show, a band from the south that believes geographic diversity is to be embraced)

Today is a sad day, a day when one looks back and says, wow, that was a really sad day.  a day where one is torn between leaving home and going home, yes, one is about to head back to school, to be with others.

the other one has already gone back to nashville, one is the lonliest number,

and we need freaking shows, lots of shows, i want to say, hell no, i cant play that show.  lots of bands will do anything for shows, shows are like cocaine, crack cocaine, except the baking soda is replaced with love, love so strong, that one would suck his best friends......

so this has been fun jackson, pop music, catchy hooks that embed themselves in lucky clovers head (see comment on previous post)  and are all located right here http://myspace.com/thelastpictureshow

bye

nathan

Dear Xanga,

( the official xanga of the last picture show, a band that is only kind of a band, as sweet music is posted on the internet with out consent of all participants)

Sometimes life seems so long, like really long, like the kind of hot dogs that cafeterias only serve on special occaisions.  with chili and cheese, nacho chese, something that seems unsuited for a frankfurter, but never the less, the yellow goo coats the slim, foot long frank much to the delight of dismay of the purchaser.

people still purchase hot dogs, but not music, especially not music found at http://myspace.com/thelastpictureshow or http://purevolume.com/lastpictureshow that kind of music is the kind that you can only really find for free, or list someone as a friend to, or jam to brittany spears, yes jam to brittany spears, and somehow tom petty as well.  well, that cannot be done at http://purevomume.com/lastpictureshow but http://myspace.com/thelastpictureshow certianly has such things.

cover things, or thing.  as a musician loaded with mediocrity can no longer conjure lyrics to music mostly derived from software programs on his little brothers machine. yes, stealing the musical tones of another.

bye

nathan

Dear Xanga,

(the xanga of the last picture show, a band whose name is taken from an old movie that satires small town life in the american heartland)

today is a slow day like a slug across the hot pavement after a small child has taken it upon himself to douse the creature with salt, writhing slowly because moving swiftly only brings on a slower death, and because its a slug, moving slowly is just part of it.  even in death, a death between dehydration and roasting, a chemical death or a solar death. a slow death or a slow death, death at the expense of the unfeeling sun or a cold blooded youth.  everyday we die a little more. everyday we do not play a show when we can, like tonight at gravity, cause it could just be a solo show, but why?

sure playing with myself is fun, but it is merely an exercise of the imagination, a puppet show in which i manifest playing with others, a self satisfying charade where others play with me.  once a person has actually begun to play with others the thrill is gone, baby.  imagine now what could be would be a waste of spirit, a hollow pit (because there are other kinds pits), an empty egg under a hopeful bird who will soon find her nest too big.

too too big was the bill for the entertainment at the fine establishment of gravity coffee house, and too too empty the dance beats for the coffee nut, the others shall cary on, everton, and the scurvies, and others, while i watch with joy, or continue the process of training a flat, plastic, parrot of a disk to mimic music in a portable fashion.

bye

nathan