In it's-a-small-world-after-all news, my roomie meterbridge is out of town at a wedding at which purebugbeauty is DJing. So, J-J, if the music's good, which I have no doubt it will be, you have Rosemary to thank. And zerbie's out of town visiting her mom, so holy apartment all to myself.
I haven't gone running for over two weeks now, and strangely enough, I'm losing weight. I guess it's that I'm back to the whole eat-meals-and-don't-eat-snacks thing, which sort of stopped being feasible when I was running so much, but now I find that I don't feel like eating so much between meals; now I seem able to sustain myself for hours and hours on Diet Coke and Kurt Vonnegut, Juicy Fruit gum and "Palmcorder Yajna". Yeah. My Mountain Goats bender continues. This is not an ordinary thing. High school, waiting for everyone to leave the house, then standing between the speakers in the living room, eyes closed, arms stretched out, soaking up "Porcelina" as loud as I could take it: that's what this is like. College, sneaking to Sebring-Lewis late at night to play "For the Win" on the piano, again and again, for hours: that's what this is like. I got my dad We Shall All Be Healed for Father's Day. (I think Sunset Tree is a better record, but, well, it strikes me as sort of an inappropriate gift.) The first song reminds me of the first song on one of my favorite albums, Anodyne by Uncle Tupelo -- not so much in the way it sounds, but in how it makes me feel. I know he'll like it.