I think that's all. Oh, wait; it's nice outside at night. As in, it smells great and since it's been raining every few days there is usually a coolish breeze in the air. It looks quite more like spring out there than summer at times.
Have I mentioned lately that I need the internet at home? The lovely folks at MoKaBe's are probably starting to wonder when I'm moving in and how much I'll bring with me. Also, the slow drain on my checking account for various coffees and treats is beginning to speed up a bit, and now would most likely be the sum of services rendered for Interwebs-At-Home.
Music seems pretty cool again - again. Kind of hate when I'm lazy about engaging myself with music, seeing as how falling into a semi-dangerous depressive spiral of encompassing dreary voiditude is ever the more determinable. I've been downloading various bits and pieces like a madwoman on crack-cocaine with rabies. With that precious image of myself in mind, one would think I'd be getting into a lot of loud, aggro, face-meltingly scathing whathaveyou. Instead it's been a lazy drift through dream pop / shoegaze. Reacquainted myself with Papercuts, Galaxie 500, and Slowdive, amongst many, many, many others. Slowly acquiring a very real and committed interest in playing an instrument again - again.
Heather Havrilesky, who writes the at-this-point-fairly-canonical Rabbit Blog, entirely summarized every 21-30ish's anxieties and squashed them to bits in her last post. Sometimes I can't wait to be 40. Sometimes I can't wait to be not on fire.
On a sidenote: WHY CAN'T I JUST BE RICH. REALLY, THOUGH, I AM TIRED OF NOT BEING ABLE TO DO WHAT I WANT, WHICH MOST OF THE TIME HAPPENS TO BE SOME PRETTY BASIC SHIT. Godshitfuck, seriously, I have that feeling to look forward to for the rest of my adulthood? Cool. I can't wait to resent my kids, either.
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