Nothing that you’ll want to hear about has happened in the past two weeks, so here is a picture of a kitten in a boot:
See you in two weeks.
My apartment didn’t burn down. My advisor’s home also didn’t burn down (at least it wasn’t burned a couple days ago – let’s hope that’s still true). My office didn’t burn down, so I’ll have a place to go on Monday. I’ve escaped to LA, where the smoke isn’t as thick and the house isn’t full of distracting things (like Final Fantasy XII, Guitar Hero II and reporters pointing to fires and saying, “Hey look! The people who hate America are on fire!”), so I may actually be able to get work done.
Business of the day: get renter’s insurance and get back to work.
Google has been kind enough to enlighten me about a local record store in Encinitas called Lou’s. It feels very independent – from the bookshelves full of CDs to the cashiers’ snarky customer banter. One thing that shocked me, though, was the giant dent in their wall:
Customer: “So, uhh, did someone run into your wall or something?”
Snarky Cashier … Frank?: “Nah, I just got angry yesterday and did the whole ‘Frank smash!’ thing.”
Combine that with the music, and it was a pretty good experience.
Ratatat’s first album – holy crap the guitars. I mean seriously, how do they do that?
This was in the bargain bin – 23 Thelonius Monk tracks for $5? Sure!
The New Pornographers have hooks that won’t quit, and they harmonize like few other bands in this day and age. Plus, any rockers that include a piano (not a synthesizer, a piano) in a lot of their tracks get my respect.