We meet at the Bunker on Thursday’s. Every week.  We’re not rehearsing for a show.  We’re working on new material, exploring new riffs and experimenting with some new ideas.  We’re working on honing our craft.

Personally, I’m blown away that Thanksgiving is next week. I mean, it’ll be Christmas before you know it and then New Year and in no time we’ll be playing a house party at the Auk’s Roost at the end of January!

In the spirit of working on new material, I thought I’d share a verse of a brand new song.

“Somewhere, baby, over the rainbow.

Wishing on stars. Missing your halo.

Once in a while Great Planes tornado.

Listen in vain to the songs on the radio.

Wednesday, maybe, onward and westward.

“The tide,” said the moon, “it’s an honest gesture.”

You were in bloom. I under pressure.

Hissing and praying through the smog and the congestion.”

And here are three Bunker haiku’s.

We walk down the stairs,

seven of those cement steps,

lugging our gear back.

You will need three keys:

street door, down the stairs, door two.

Last, the Bunker door.

Inside it’s a room

with all of our gear and some lights,

beer stains the carpet.

“People need to be made more aware of the need to work at learning how to live because life is so quick and sometimes is goes away too quickly.”     – Andy Warhol