So nice, this young man. he's a music producer and his name is alex goose and i made him spell it because of course i didn't believe him. i mean, the gray cells are like lonely raisins floating in a gelatinous mass of runny porridge but even i know a fake name when i hear it. poor dear, i thought, he's 12 and undoubtedly the product of a broken home (never hear much about father goose, do you?) and he's getting the holy crap beat out of him at school because he's not very big (and yet, i couldn't manage to get the very tippy top of his head in the picture) so he has to fabricate these pathetic lies. but just because he's a lying bastard is no reason to be unfriendly so i prattled on about his Sebago dock shoe-boots with tribal aspirations as manifested in the removable moccasin-inspired ankle fringe (thus re-moc-ables) that are just so damn category busting. gotta love that. and then i revealed my minnesota origins which scared surprised the living daylights out of him and he shared that he had spent three months in minnesota on an internship with Target. a graphic design internship. oh what tangled webs we weave when we seek to deceive.... my goodness, the awful back-pedaling. well, he was a graphic designer and a freelance music producer.... and i am lady di.
alexgoose.com, myspace.com/goosebeats, theblueprint3outtakes.com.
alex bro, g-man, you natural gangsta, how's every little thing?
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