Attack On Memory
Lowering your expectations is the first step towards achieving your goals. Put that on a t-shirt and smoke it. Why not? Might as well Just Blaze and listen to some sped-up motown samples, or maybe some fuk-ya-forth-chord power punking, rather than seeking fulfilling career opportunities. There's no jobs out there anyway now in this post-Jobs/Whitney turd buffet. The economy has been hugging the porcelain bowl of an AIDS-invested shitter ever since those nasty Leyland Brothers broke into your parent's piggy bank and stole your college fund. You were probably just going to glide through the University Of Lyfe anyway, choofing bucket bongs and converting bath tubs into lemon parties to entertain your frat boy mates.
The Real World is nothing like that television show, Dylan Baldi thought to himself as he stared down at his perfect little white collar suburban hands. Growing up in the secluded paradise of Cleveland, his life was cleansed daily by comedians such as Drew Carey and Lebron James, but it was inevitable that the torrid reality of the outside world would eventually creep in. Sure, his catchier-than-an-AIDS-toilet power punk ballads worked well on the streets of his hometown, perfectly encapsulating the glossy pleasantries of the carefree environment, but Baldi soon realised that they lacked the required substance to connect with those outside of this plastic mirage.
Booed off stage for the umpteenth time. Kansas was a tough city. Always has, always will be. "This is nothing like what I thought it would be like", Baldi exclaimed to Brian, his bandmate and childhood friend, holding back tears with every inch of pre-pubescent strength contained within his 12-year old frame. "Yeah, I know dude, fuck this sucks", Brian replied between lightning swigs from a Diet Budweiser. "I just wanna go home and finish converting my old tree house into a bong". Baldi smiled. Not the kind of smile provoked by happiness, but by exhaustion. Tired of suppressing his ill-feelings towards reality, pretending he still believed in the cartoon tripe he continued to peddle.
It was time for something different.