So I pour a nice Bel­gian style, clean up a lit­tle detri­tus about the box, and decide to write a small spiel here … talk about how the weather’s mak­ing every­thing bet­ter than bear­able (which is what it kind of plateaus at halfway through the win­ter here … sur­vival, exis­tence, not nec­es­sar­ily life), how peo­ple seem friend­lier, or at least I do … and how I’m sit­ting here lis­ten­ing to the new Malk­mus / Jicks CD … so I go to write and notice Coo­ley has writ­ten pretty much the same thing for the day.

So fuck it. Instead, I’m going to talk about how this weather’s a fuck­ing tease … it’s going to get worse before it gets any bet­ter, I’ll tell you that much. Look at Col­orado today … get­ting fuck­ing 3 feet of snow … and if it doesn’t get worse here, it’ll just turn into a detestable mud­pit, thus giv­ing us yet another thing to com­plain about, more kin­dling for the Ubiq­ui­tous Con­fla­gra­tion of Com­plain­ing About Where You Live (UCOCAWYL).

It’s always fuck­ing something.