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Full of miniature beef and words

I feel great! I just sang myself hoarse, having run through a large chunk of my guitar repertoire at full volume. This included four tracks off of In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. For as long as I live, I will be unable to forget the haunting, endless lyrics of “Oh Comely” (“… your father made fetuses with flesh-licking ladies while you and your mother were asleep in the trailer park …”). Kelly knows what I’m talking about. My upstairs neighbors probably think I am criminally insane — I can muster some serious volume when I put my mind to it — but playing music with that kind of intensity and abandon, without regard for anything except belting it out, is one few activities in which I can completely lose myself. That and when snorting Bolivian marching powder. Just kidding, Grandma — it’s black tar heroin or nothing.

My department at work threw a little party in celebration of everyone having their peer performance reviews done, at least in theory. They served drinks and tiny, adorable hamburgers that surely came from dog-sized cows. This kind of thing happens at work more than you might think — or perhaps you, too, work for a giant, amoral corporation?

I flew to LA over the weekend to pay Malen a visit because she is awesome. You can find very few pictures on my flickr page, since I’m still not very good at remembering to take pictures of things as they are happening. I worry, because this will make my life that much more difficult to reconstruct when I’m being researched by the grad students of the future. In any case, you’ll have to take my word that the weather in LA is good enough to make you ok with the fact that you’re in LA. Plus Malen lives a block from Venice Beach, which by itself forgives almost any sin of the city’s you could name.

Posted in Musings.

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