Samuel Price is a simple, country boy - one might say a cock-eyed optimist- with a borderline personality disorder and a passionate bloodlust for the whimsy of Larry David and the schizoid rumination of David Lynch. To his contemporaries: a pale, friendless virgin.
I'm trying to broaden my horizons currently by picking a band for every country around the world. At first this may seem easy (Sloan for Canada, NZ: anything from the Dunedin mould, for Australia The Birthday Party, Japan had the wacky Happy End, and so forth) but it's quickly become something of an erectile challenge which keeps me up at night.
There's an odd phenomenon which seems to sermonise itself to me whenever I feel the need to relieve myself by way of fibre egestion. I sit on the ergonomics, crank my first one out, and the familiar onomatopoeic plop distils my heart. And yet when I creep over bowl, and bowel, I am greeted by nothing but white water. Nothing materialises on the first drop. This is a regular occurrence, and something which troubles me greatly, but seems an apt justification of my life thus far; a long uphill struggle characterised by heinous embarrassment and -more pickly- a fruitless nothing in particular. So excuse me if I shit all over the page.
I'm really a very nice person :)