>> Tuesday, April 29, 2008

It's almost 11:00 p.m. and I haven't written an entry for today. And dammit, I can't think of a topic, either.

There's the weather, which feels colder than it is: temperatures were about ten degrees lower today than they were yesterday, but that's still weather in the sixties, which is a damn sight warmer than the recent weather in, oh, say, Alaska.

There's the new music I've been listening to. I listened to Sigur Rós's Hvarf/Heim ("Disappeared"/"Home") a gorgeous double album of alternate versions of cuts from the band's previous albums. As much as I love the band's epic sound on albums like ( ), I might actually like these slimmed-down acoustic versions more. It's a lovely pair of disks, a really lovely pair of albums. Right now, as I'm typing this, I'm listening to Smog's A River Ain't Too Much To Love. I bought it partly because the last Smog album I owned before picking it up was 1995's Wild Love, a ten-year gap in records and I really have meant to pick up all of Smog's other records in between, I just haven't for whatever reason. In fact, the two Smog albums I previously owned (I also have 1994's Julius Caesar) were purchased when I was in law school, right after I saw Smog open for somebody--I can't even remember who it was Smog was opening for, actually. Funny, that. I was at that show with a girl I had a mad crush on at the time, and who in time broke my heart just a little bit, which wasn't a unique thing at all since the other guy with the two of us apparently felt the same way. The girl is mostly gone but the band remains; this is a universal story, I could be Everyman and the girl could be Anyone, it's an old, old, old story. Anyway, A River Ain't Too Much To Love is a fine record so far, and I'm glad I bought it, though the ten-year gap between Wild Love and A River... is noticeable: Bill Callahan, who used to be a one-man band, now has a band and his voice is lower and mellower than it was in 1995-or-so (the experience is akin to following one of Tom Waits's early records, Closing Time, say, with one of his later ones, Bone Machine, why not, it's that degree of difference). Hm--you know, it might have been Palace Brothers that Smog was opening for that night.

Well anyway, isn't that how it goes? You start writing about having nothing to write about, and you end up accidentally writing about something like the way sediment remains when so much else has flowed away with the current. Enough said. Tomorrow night may be a video or it may not: the weekly online Neverwinter Nights game looks like it's getting bumped to Thursday this week, so there might be a regular blog entry tomorrow and the (already assembled) Neverwednesday Nights entry might become a Neverthursday Nights entry. We'll see. In the meantime, put something mellow on the CD player, eh?


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