of riffs and sun and dead fish.

I had a depressive week, and promptly forgot about homework until right now, and I'm still procrastinating. Me and College Radio Homie went out to the east side to see Floor and Thrones, and while he dug all four bands, I only liked the last two, but I've realized I'm just getting set in my ways and dramatic no-waveness just isn't my thing. Still, the low sludgy end of things was fabulous, the crowd was refreshingly clown-free, and there were others of us up there to hang out with. I still like Torche better but it was a great show.

I realized how out of shape and profoundly unathletic I am at the softball field, having a profound inability to calculate where popups will drop, feeling my bones ache every time my bat made contact with a ball. Is it supposed to hurt like that? I say and our captain just looks at me. But it feels so good to be outside in just a hoodie and comfortable and I take a walk afterwards on the beach, which would have been perfect if there weren't hundreds of dead fish washed up in various stages of decomposition and from there I head to the radio station to provide the masses of Clevelandia with the evening's riffs of stoner/doom/grungy swankness