We Eat Fire: I want to come up with a list of words to avoid when looking for weblogs. Blogger, the software I use to publish, lists their most recently updated logs. Words and phrases to avoid include:

• Journal
• Random Thoughts
• Blabberings
• (name)'s Blog
• Musings
• Boring
• Just a...
• Sexual
• Babble
• Notebook
• Rants
• Raves

I'm going for a late night walk, and when the clock hits 12:00 I'm going to post the MP3 of the week for the most timely update ever. Not that it's going to be extra grand or anything, its just that I'm awake.

So yah. The new Radiohead. Yah, fucking....yah.

I rode my bike up to the collegiate part of the area to find cheap food and visit a couple of friends. Before I left the house, I contemplated whether I should bring a jacket or not, and in the end decided it was a good idea. I had eaten nothing but a Belgian waffle constructed in a haphazard manner with a few slices of Turkey bacon, which I covered in pepper to give them some flavor. I was hungry, and I barely had the energy to ride my bike up the slight incline leading to the land of taquerias and smoke shops.

Hung out for a bit, ate my burrito like a pro, and decided to come home. Holy Jesus ( I know its your holiday in all, but I'm still taking your name in vain 'cause I fucking mean it) was it cold outside. It wasn't windy, and it's officially Spring, and I felt colder than I probably did all of winter put together. I had my jacket on, but I could feel the icy air shooting around the little pearly buttons on my shirt and over the skin on my chest, forming goosebumps wherever it touched. Holy shit was I cold.

The brakes are almost completely out on my bike, and when I pulled up to the front of my house I was a tad out of control and almost plowed into a little girl who was looking up into the tree at something. I apologized kindly, and possibly scared her with the redness in my face and my hair sticking straight up.

It's going to be a long night.

I didn't talk about watching Hudson Hawk, but that's because I'm trying to forget it. Oh, and the Sharks lost game 1 of the Stanley Cup playoffs earlier this evening. Bad day. Sad day. But I'm happy now.

Tomorrow two things are happening. First, I've hired a friend to do deliveries for my company. I am excited and a bit scared of the prospect of employing someone I know. Second, we are going to the Olive Garden for dinner. Yes, we are doing this on purpose. Yes it is to mock middle America and see just how bad things can get. Yes I am scared.

Tragedy strikes the (!) community: I have lost my portable CD player. This is not good, it's the same sort of "I think I put it somewhere but I can't think of that place" which occurred last year when I lost the merch box (7"s, CDs, and all the money) belonging to my old band. I *thought* it was in my car, but then it wasn't. I haven't see my really really nice Sony portable in almost a week now, and I'm starting to get worried. That puppy was expensive, what with its digital output so I could pirate Cd recordings straight to minidisc while I was on the move and its "G Protection" system and all. Uhm, yah. Never let me babysit, who knows what would happen.

Confused and moody again, watching the clock in anticipation for lunch. Perhaps the coffee hasn't kicked in yet. I want to take a train somewhere, read, and stare out the window.

I took the train from Oakland to Orange County once. I couldn't afford the swanky train that runs down the coast non-stop, so I had to take the cheap train, packed with dirty kids and bitter parents. This train runs down the central valley, through Corcoran and Modesto and Fresno. In Bakersfield I departed, it was 110 degrees outside, and boarded a bus that shuttled us to Central Station in Los Angeles. I sat there the whole time trying to read Cat's Cradle while I listened to this guy who just got out of prison hit on this group of 16 year old girls. "Well, my girlfriend is supposed to pick me up at the station, but if you girls want to go somewhere else, I could always slip away." Giggling ensued. The bus is the chosen way of transportation for new parolees, always and adventurous way to go.

So yah, the MP3 of the week is late. You know why it's late? Cause Earthlink sucks hard. Big time connection problems last night made me look like a slacker. There's no coming back from that.

So I'm home real quick before I head to the doctor so that they can finally clear my arm as all healed up. Things are all hurried today and I can't seem to wind down at all, I've been gritting my teeth and being strangely hurried and stressed all afternoon, needing something to bring me down a bit.

This MP3 of the week is one of my favorites (there are many) from the recent Bonnie 'Prince' Billy album. This song hit me while I was driving home from the hockey game last week, weaving through a vacant downtown San Jose right under the path of the 747s flying directly overhead. I could see the moon and the stars and the tailights of the planes as they flew past me, making trails of red though the air. This song is gorgeous, very similiar to his acapella version of John Denver's The Eagle and the Hawk that appeared on a tribute record last year. Mr. Oldham has impressed me once again.

In an unrelated note, I heard a punk song on the college radio station last night by a Seattle band called The Briefs that I actually liked. Not that I have this weird hatred towards punk bands, but it's been awhile since anything under two minutes has impressed me.

Made my way down to practice yesterday trying to avoid the windtunnels formed by the tall buildings and hilly streets in the Mission District. Nobody had shown up yet so I propped my feet up on a chair and drank a beer and watched the 3rd period of the Sharks game. Everyone eventually arrived and we worked on finalizing a few songs that we're going to record in the coming weeks.

MRA showed up and we walked up the hill to get burritos in the upper Mission, a trek I've done three times in the last week. Something about their vegetarian goodies (for her) that draw us back time and time again. We made our way down to what's quickly becoming our local, the Argus bar. The door was closed but we made our way inside to find ourselves the only ones in attendance. The bartender was watching Saturday Night Live reruns but we turned the TV off and put some songs on the juke. People started to show up, and when Dolly Parton's "Islands in the Stream" came on, the entire bar danced and sang along. It was fantastic, I wanted to put the song on again but decided that I best save the moment instead of attempting to re-create it. I downed my Jon Benet Ramsey (Vanilla Stoli/Ginger Ale/Crushed Cherry, very girlie) and we took off. The bartender made sure to say goodbye.

So, looking for something different to do, we decided to go to a drum & bass club. Some big DJs were spinning last night, so I hear, and the place got pretty packed. I'm not a newcomer to clubs, or electronic music, but I did make some observations last night that I cannot explain. There were people breakdancing, full on electric boogaloo stylie gettin' down on the floor, and then hi-fiving each other. That was strange, but seemed to get the people dancing even more. People were watching the DJ too, it was almost like being at a show, and the DJ was a band, and everyone was dancing *at* him. Like trying to impress him while he was trying to impress us. It's a kind of DJ worship I hadn't seen before, an almost call and response pattern but with music and dancing.

We were out late, had a good sleep, and now we're relaxing on a Sunday that was supposed to be cold and rainy, but seems to just be cold. Weather.