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True Life: I Bought A Macbook and Now I’m Touring with Dillon Francis

It all started as a pretty normal week, until late one night on my way home from campus, when I was ambushed and robbed by a roving band of mapaches lurking outside Bagel Cafe. I was carrying my backpack full of valuables and school supplies, so I had to go on the hunt for a new laptop.

After a couple agonizing days of living without technology, I finally returned home from the Amazon locker on Trigo with my shiny new MacBook Pro cradled delicately under my arm. Bursting with excitement, I booted it up and began exploring all the new tools and gadgetry at my disposal. After messing around for a bit, I decided to open Garage Band, and everything changed…

I didn’t even go to Extravaganza, and I don’t know how he found me, but the morning after the concert Dillon Francis showed up unannounced at my front door. He told me he was in search of young, ambitious talent to support his shows.

“But I just opened Garage Band and played around with some sounds,” I told him. But he insisted I had what it took to reach EDM stardom.

Now I’m scheduled to open for him at his next concert. It all happened so fast, I’m not even sure if I’m getting payed. It was hard to hear what all the lawyers were saying over the pounding bass beat that seems to follow Mr. Francis anywhere he goes, emanating from some unknown, otherwordly source.

I feel like I should be nervous, but all I’m doing is pressing play on a beat we downloaded off the internet, then jumping around and waving my arms like a mental patient in front of a few thousand people. According to Francis, it can get pretty boring up there after a while, so he encouraged me to “pop a tab or two and go for a ride” if I start losing interest in my multi-million dollar click track. These people are strange. I’m afraid.

Update: I’m launching my solo career. Dillon is holding back a budding genius. Last night I almost prolapsed my rectum by farting into a microphone for hours and creating a song entirely from edited samples of such raw sound. It’s fucking beautiful. I love sitting under freeway overpasses and listening to the natural symphony of clanging metal and the roar of internal combustion engines.

My next piece will consist entirely a recording of me beating the shit out of and old car while screaming at the top of my lungs. If it doesn’t shoot me to the top of the Lightning in a Bottle lineup, art is dead and so am I.

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