By Seamus O'Sparks on June 30, 2015 — 1 min read

Oh man, I get to get away from it all in about 20 mins. I can’t wait. I’m not going very far, but the point is: I’M GOING. And I haven’t “gone” in a long time. Too long. My nerves are all raw ground beef from the daily rounds of customer service/music swindle. So, I’m grateful to a benevolent force-of whatever kind-that I can slink away from the grab ass and get myself bent in my own unique way. It occurs to me, as I write this, whenever a band makes the grade it is usually written about them that they, “burst onto the scene.” I like that. I wish I could burst in any number of capacities. Of course, I’ve never had the meat to “burst” onto a scene…of any kind. I usually just kind of lurk around the corner of whatever “scene” is purported to exist. I think I’ve grown to like it that way too. One thing is for sure, though- I definitely plan on bursting off the scene when it’s my time to make the exit. I’m not sure enough people are given credit for doing that. You know, leave ’em laughing as you go. So…Yeah-just like Ali burst George Foreman’s skull in the torpid jungles of the Congo, or Joltin’ Joe burst Marilyn’s buxom virtue-I’d like to burst into a billion mosquitoes and maybe, one day, people will ask, “Where have you gone, Seamus O ?” Though, upon reflection, I don’t think Joe, or Ali, or even Moby Dick ever really went anywhere. They’re still out there….somewhere…Perhaps, then, it was us who left? Makes me wonder where we went? Some nights, when my nerves are as wretched as Caliban’s ego, I think we might have gone to Wal*Mart. And now, I am leaving. Of course, I will return…for better or worse. And I will burst back onto Facebook to be sure. In the meantime, everyone be cool and I’ll see ya’ in a few days. Who knows, we may even run into each other at Wal*Mart while I am taking this brief spiritual repas? Please, don’t be offended if I don’t make eye contact…Happy Early FOURTH OF JULY AMERICA!

Posted in: Holidays

The Story of Seamus

Seamus O'Sparks is the seventh son of a Seventh Day Adventist who went on a seven-day bender starting on July 7, 1977 at a strip club called Seventh Heaven at the corner of 7th St. and 7th Ave. in the West Village.