sturtle [dot] com

quiet, please. quiet….

man, that was so loud. everything is fucking loud this morning: the air conditioner rattling in the window. the hounds walking on the hardwood floor with their glamour-length nails. the cat licking her belly two rooms away.

the stereolab concert, as you’ve probably guessed, was good.

of course, it was vaguely disappointing, too–in the way that most concerts are. perhaps it’s just me, but i always seem to walk away from concerts thinking, “well, they sounded good, but it was kind of a lot like the album, so maybe i would have had more fun hanging out with some friends in my living room listening to the shit on cd.” you know, if they were like metallica and shit and put on a show it’d be different, but these guys sort of just stood there and sang and said maybe ten words altogether (which i think was them repeating “sank you”–they’re french, ya’ know) so the audience-interaction quotient was pitfully low. left with nothing else to do, i chose to entertain myself by drinking copious amounts of alcohol. i’m such a good southerner.

in the end, though, i don’t think it was the volume of drinking that kicked my ass. it was probably the fact that i mixed my two fave summertime beverages (pernod/rocks/water and absolut/rocks/dirty)–something i was forced to do because the howling wolf doesn’t care to stock pernod with any regularity. oh, and i had a beer, too. and a wee bit of e. (p.s. joe, i never felt shit. but i’m feeling it now. my spine, my poor, poor spine….).

but anyway, i’m alert enough to be typing, no? kiss my butt and call me a trooper. besides, chad arrives today. i can’t let one little bitty b-grade hangover get me down. i gotta make room for the next one….