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Mark, Mike & Mat

The lack of drums in the A.M

It's been about 28 years since I've been able to look people in the eye without bursting out into either tears or laughter due to an annoyingly persistent nervous disposition in my childhood. It's also been 17 years since I've managed to speak in some sort of recogniseable format thanks to the remnant of the aforementioned affliction. So would I consider myself rid of all anxieties? Well let's break it down. My day will usually begin with a racing heart and headache brought on by the thought of leaving my bed. I'll  run through every conceivable conversation I'm likely to have in the first 4 hours of the day from the barista in Starbucks to the Guy in the fruit market in Stratford centre. This can be cured however by a pot of coffee and a few minutes peace having a morning shit and flicking through instagram. However, this in turn brings on the next problem. All these cool people out there. That burger looks pretty cool, I'll  try and make my own. That young skater kid is shredding, what happened to my own skating ability? All these bands I follow are awesome, why aren't I as good as that. Yeah so a morning shit takes 15 mins. 5 mins of business followed by 10 mins of self deprecation with my cock and balls dangling in the bowl wishing I could be as talented as these kids of instagram. But hey, that's over with fairly quickly and I drink another coffee and check the morning emails and kiss my lady goodbye before work. But now I'm IN work. It's Monday morning and something in my brain is telling me that I really don't need to open the bar today. I can just sit here and drink the fridge dry to calm down my racing heartbeat. But then I see the PA system screaming out to blast the latest Umlaut submissions (this morning was the unreleased Shark Party EP). Now I'm back to the instagram dilemma hearing awesome tunes and without a band currently to take out my angst on I'm a little lost for what to do. Turns out I've sat on the couch listening to this for 2 hours on loop without so much as scratching myself. Hearts racing again. Head hurts. Not something I can easily fix with painkillers (good after years of relying on them) or that be cured by alcohol (see previous humoured mention of a borederline drink problem birthed in my teens). I guess it's time to open the bar and talk to other humans. 

How not to be Stopped in the Street

Passing the buck