In early November of 1990, my roommates and some friends stayed up all night drinking. I think it was drinking, and we decided to get some instruments and go down to ODU and play music for money. We first stared chanting some shit we made up, but because we mentioned broccoli, people thought we were making incisive commentary about HW Bush. We earned enough money to drink again that night. That is not a joke, though we were by intent. Anyway, we made up a couple of songs and rushed out a tape and played a couple open mics at Cogan's, and then acknowledged that we really just wanted to get wasted and listen to Paul's Boutique or whatever jazz or 13th Floor Elevators or Velvet Underground or whatever we had on hand until we watched whatever movie we could round up before we passed out, and we stopped rocking out as the GTC. Sometime in January 1991, we watched "In Cold Blood" and I kinda freaked out and got a job rolling tortillas at Colley Cantina, a practice that ended when I left Norfolk to move to Colorado.