Let the golden age begin.

So I guess my car is getting fixed today, or at least started on, so that will be nice. Hopefully we are not talking about much money being involved. I did get paid yesterday so I can afford to buy some food now and stuff, but putting money into that car ranks fairly high on the list of things I don't care much for. It's just that I can think of so many better ways to spend!

Just because something feels good, does that always mean I should do it? It probably depends on who you ask. You shouldn't ask me, though, there's no telling what I'll say exactly but odds are the advice will be bad.

I have been listening to Beck's Sea Change a lot the past few days. I forgot how good that album is, and it also reminds me how much I used to want to date a boy that looked like Beck or Ben Lee. I now renew those desires, not so much the Ben Lee but definitely the Beck. If you look like Beck, come date me, I guess. Actually, if you are Beck, yes please come date me. This also makes me want to go back and rediscover some albums I haven't heard in awhile but that I was at one time or another certain it would be important in the timeline of my life by albums. If you go back to something that was pivotal in your past and it becomes significant in the present, does it get a spot on the timeline? Or perhaps just a footnote, a reference to the fact that it made it's original imprint at an earlier time and is significant now only in the context of that bygone era. I also need to pick back up on my list of songs that would go on the Soundtrack of My Life.

Also on replay are Burial (whose older stuff I'm digging into now), Panda Bear, Thurston Moore, Justice, Dirty Projectors, Blues Control, Land of Talk, Black Lips, No Age, Stars, Deerhunter, and so on.. my Important In 2007 in review mode, basically. You know what was a puff of nothing was that Enon album, which I think I listened to twice. What is it about the ending of a year that makes us all scramble to sort, review, rate, collect, document the Whos and Whats of those 12 months? My guess is the need to define that period of time in whatever way speaks loudest to each of us. Quantify it, lock it down for keeps, so we can remember later.. and it works, it becomes a reflex. To me, the word "two thousand four" might as well be "Arcade Fire, Animal Collective." Oh my God, that was four years ago. We're starting a new year, a whole new list of whatever it is we're listing, and I feel like maybe I'm too tired to list and I can always just listen to War again instead.

My creativity is all dried up, it seems. I have been asked to contribute to a 'zine and I can't even think of where to begin. It doesn't have to be new, he said, "anything, writings, blogs, letters, emails" but they all seem like crap and nothing I'd want to submit in any form, lest someone think I'm taking my ridiculous self seriously. Everything is so boring.

[Fratboy just called me "Crash." I swear.. three more weeks, three more weeks.]

One of the main reasons (and best reasons) I keep blogs is to go back and remember what it was like for me at some moment in time, and other people's blogs can function in the same manner. My memories fade so much so quickly that I'm never really aware of it until something triggers a sharp recall that feels almost new again simply because my brain hasn't ever done that before, remembered that particular memory. Just earlier I found something from long ago that I have to record here just in case that particular blog should ever be deleted or otherwise lost in the electric nothingness of the internet because maybe one day I'll need to remember one of the best things ever written about me.

I play Reckoning once again but for someone else and she says, "Isn't this the album with Pretty Persuasion" and not "Isn't this the album with So. Central Rain" and I say to myself, "Wow, let's build a future together."

I joked to her about not having this little plastic ring that is probably used for some sort of hardware way on her pinkey finger that I put on her last night but then she said, "Wait a minute," and she walks to her purse and pulls the little plastic ring that is probably used for some hardware sort of way and it was connected to her key chain. As soon as she sat back down on the couch, I crashed my face into hers and that little plastic ring would never be remembered for some sort of hardware way.

I have never been so successful as I am now with incomplete sentences, random run-ons, and words that aren't even real. Thank you for allowing me to be myself though, a man who should have taken certain medications and paid more attention in my high school grammar courses. I have more imperfections and dime store throwaway collages that I will manage to make into valentines for you.

+++ Beck/Sea Change