What does that mean, any­way? Noth­ing, really. Just a jux­ta­po­si­tion of what I’ve taken in over the past 3 hours. Saw “The Hours” (it’s not liv­ing, per say…it’s what you can bear) and am now clos­ing shop while lis­ten­ing to Jackie-O Motherfucker’s fine 2001 release on Road Cone, Lib­er­a­tion. Very excited to see this out­fit open­ing for God­speed You! Black Emperor in Mon­treal next month. That’ll be less than 18 hours after I arrive from Costa Rica. I’ll still have sand in my ears and some tragic tick lodged in the web­bing between my mid­dle and index toes on the left foot. These are my pre­dic­tions. Actu­ally, I’m incor­rect: Cat Power’s that night, then the night after is the improv drone extrav­a­ganza. Any­way, what the fuck do you care, anyway?

But that doesn’t make any sense either, because you’re read­ing this in the first place.…