Man, I must have sent about two dozen emails to various music industry big shots the other day

By Seamus O'Sparks on August 22, 2015 — 1 min read

Man, I must have sent about two dozen emails to various music industry big shots the other day. I don’t expect to catch any fat on the trencher but I think it’s important to piss in the wind every now and again. Just for kicks, as it were.

And I think that the cats who guard the precious gates-gates that exist to keep creeps like me from ruining Boz Scaggs’s breakfast-must get some kind of fractious buzz from reading my Cro-Magnon kink. It pleases me, on the human level, that my efforts did yield two prompt replies. One from Henry Rollins’s people(which I posted). The other came from Brian May’s camp. Both were to the point but polite. And that’s good enough for me.

I’ve never been adept at handling myself with “industry” people. From celebrities to middle management to secretaries to gofers, anybody associated with the world of entertainment sees my act for the jive-ass hokum that it is and it doesn’t rank with them. And that’s probably a good thing.

If there’s one trip the world doesn’t need it’s a myopic geek with a penchant for sodomy and a head full of fat thoughts being given a megaphone. The stinking truth is that my only two face-to-face encounters with celebrity both ended in disaster. I met John Wetton(King Crimson, Asia) once. After a few drinks he misinterpreted a remark about a hamburger and my offer to tickle him as an attempt, on my part, to “take the piss.”

And speaking of piss, my next encounter happened at a Denny’s in Las Vegas. I was in the bathroom when Peter Boyle walked in. I told him how much I admired his craft. He half-snarled, “Here’s some craft for you” then unzipped his fly and pissed all over my pants. When I walked out of the bathroom a small Laotian boy took my picture. I think he was Laotian. So there we are.

I’ve never made it with a Swede, I’ve puked-up expensive dinners, and I’ll forever be on John Wetton’s bad side. Today I think I’ll write Patti LuPone and see what’s doing…Gotta’ keep beating those swords into ploughshares. Gotta’ go where the laughs are or make ’em happen when they can’t be found. 🙂

Posted in: Music

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.