Delicious is a word.
Not one that comes to mind when I get a mouthful of this shit I'm coughing up, but a word nonetheless.
|Will Varley singing about monkeys and cocks|
The techno guy?
What? NO! There is another guy with the same name. Listen to him, not the techno Will Varley.
So I did. I was not unimpressed. I was not impressed. I guess I was just pressed. Is that a thing?
He sounds like a lot of singer songwriters.
You're not listening right.
I don't know what that means.
Then I got on a boat. I would see Senor Varley around the boat unmolested by the masses. I wondered if he enjoyed his relative anonymity or if he craved the adoring masses. He was nice enough to smile and nod whenever I would walk past.
My friend Todd handed me a note: Will Varley, 5PM, Room 4**.
The clandestine of it all made me a little moist.
Got off the tender from Great Stirrup Caye, ran to Todd's room barefoot in my still wet swim trunks. Sat my wet ass on Todd's bed and got ready for what I was sure was going to be an okay show.
It was not okay.
Okay is white toast when you order sourdough.
Will Varley is cinnamon sugar toast.
This was so much better than okay. Including the fucking awful puns. So when he finally sang a funny line he caught me actually laughing. He stopped for a moment and said,
That makes you laugh?
You were finally funny!
Yes, that really happened.
I am a Will Varley fan. He tells stories in song. Some funny. Some not so much funny. All of them
I listened right, babe. And once again, you were right.