17 or 49. Happy birthday, everybody. Literally. Jesus Christ.

Nashville in spurts reminds me of Dodge City: it's a small place, small enough that within the right circles people know each other before they ever meet one another, and people have reputations: judgements they make before they meet someone face-to-face, before (if ever) they're formally introduced. It's a mechanism for sorting and classifying and ( Read more... )

No matter how many vodka tonics Len Weeks ever makes me to swill in the basement bar of Pembroke College Oxford, the most powerful cocktail on earth will still be a warm wet night with music and streetlights and something close to American vehiculo-phallic freakin eudaimonia ( Read more... )

If I had a nickel for every sad indie kid that posted the lyrics to a certain Death Cab for Cutie song on their blog on January 1 instead of bothering to write a real entry, I would have a lot of nickels. But to introduce this next segment, I'ma tho down some song lyrics as if it's an original way of doing things on a blog because goddamnit, this ( Read more... )

Thought that everybody loved me
Thought that everybody cared
Thought that I might have the strength to carry on
Turns out that I'm barely barely holding on...Nashville, you are cruel and romantic and make me pontificate. You are the bastard love child of Edward Hopper and Nate Ruess, highly unlikely bedfellows. I can't go anywhere in this town that ( Read more... )

I left a couple of things out, and I need to make an observation ( Read more... )

The last few nights in Nashville have been very clear; too conveniently so. It seems like they might have been rigged by a weatherman with an elementary-school-literature-writer's sense of metaphor, or by a keen awareness of a bullshit abstract noun I invented in 10th grade for using the weather to lay the mood on a little too heavy: ( Read more... )

And I'm gonna get to the bottom of this
Gonna peel back my skin and
Look at myself shaking and shivering, yeah.

- Saves the Day, “Ups And Downs”Part of the magical conservation of attention (and budget) central to successive incarnations of Star Trek since the 1960s has been the Transporter, a device marvellous in the realms of both ( Read more... )

Jaked On Green Beers ( Read more... )

I sang a song to you through the floor ( Read more... )