Further proof that indie bands are the fucking apex of musical love-and-goodness:
Henry Bishop just e-mailed me. Again. Eons after our first little "I love you so much, Winter Machine; *sob, fanatic scream, gush*" contact ages ago. E-mailed me to say he's come out as trans, been taking hormones, started a new band with another trannyboy and a queer chic (he spelled it "chic" - so I'll go with that) and would I like a demo? Hell yes, I'd like a demo! How about some buttons? Buttons! Did you say buttons? As in, the everlasting sticker - buttons?! I'm all over it.
He proceeded to say that they love their fans (I caught that) - especially the queer ones in small towns. So, I had to confess (oh, please still love me, Henry) that I'm actually a *cough* "questioning" *gag* fan who finally made it to the big city. Well, the medium city. The city-minor. And now is the time where this entry collapses entirely into
eeeeee!!! eeeeeee!!!! eeeeeeeeeeee!! eeeeeeeeeee!!!!!
p.s. buy it. buy it now.