At Your Own Expense

Oh no. Tomorrow, I fly. I think, though, I think that I'm doing a good job of calming my nerves. I just it's not all that plausible that the plane is either: just gonna crash, blow up because someone somehow got a bomb on the plane... whoa, I guess that's it. See? There's not much to be afraid of. I. Can do this.

I'm flying to Chicago. It'll be my first time in that windiest of cities. Awesome musicians that hail from Chicago: Kanye West, the Kinsellas, Jeff Tweedy, Davey von Bohlen. My uncle Sean lives there and he's seen pretty much every cool band (Fugazi, Sonic Youth, The Clash...). He's taking us to the Pitchfork Music Festival which is sweet because it doesn't have an overwhelming amount of absolutely huge, big shit bands like Bonnaroo or Lollapalooza or that shit. Also, I read Pitchfork every single day. It'll be nice to see how they exist. I get to see No Age again. Pysched as fuck on Titus Andronicus (better than/as good as reading a book. Heavy ass lyrics that take more than one cue from Albert Camus. Patrick Stickles, their head-dude has to be one of the most desperate and anguised motherfuckers I've ever heard on record), the Hold Steady will be amazing, Spoon (chance encounter with Britt Daniel?), Animal Collective (I'll stand and wonder "Why?"), Ghostface and Raekwon, Boris, Cut Copy, tons more.

I've been taking pictures on my 35mm SLR again. I missed that thing. I had a house show last night, it was off the hook. We did it in my garage. I can't get over the shear fucking talent that's happening right now. John Ciccone played solo and it was otherworldly. Jeff Buckley-level shit. Scotty Leitch from Pirouette played solo too and every time I hear one of his songs, I choke a little bit because they make my heart wanna sing. John Crodian played a lot of stuff I'd never heard him do before and that was exciting because I think he's the best storyteller I know. I need to see his movies. TV Dinner might've played their best show ever, albeit out of tune. No surprises there, though. I feel like Scotty is the dad to our little scene. John, lately I feel like you're the punkest kid out there.

I'm retarded when it comes to Emily Bonsall. This is self-flaggelation but with a Dominique Francon-emulating girl that just happens to be awesome.

I bid on a Cap'n Jazz 7-inch when I was drunk last night after the show. It better be worth the seven dollars I'm apparently willing to pay.

"Between Joey R.'s hitler mustache, still thinking about the No Age show and Nouns, the strange looking lady with the stranger gastronomical persuasions and Matt's pork fried rice I just wanted to cry."

That's what being at work on a Saturday feels like.

Note to self: send postcards to Murph, Mr. Tischler, others?

Old school Pirouette Jumpoff:

Cheers to Ralph Maccio!

New Firefox is whack.

John turned me on to Giuseppe Andrews. He played the weird cop in Cabin Fever. He also makes music and movies. We watched Touch Me In The Morning last week. It's a patchwork quilt of black and white home movies, psychotic old people. sexual absurdism and, somehow, innocence. It was fucking hilarious. See it. Here's a video for his song "Bikini Wax." The look on his face is so fucking priceless.