I crashed from all the caffeine needed to get through a work day post-rocking out, watched a movie with the usual suspects, talked politics and tunes out under the street lights as people hit us up for cigarettes (none of us smoke) and a guy drove by showing off the TV he was going to scrap. They identified the third girl who was murdered in East Cleveland and she was in one of my former coworker's summer programs. This city gets so small and sad so quickly no matter how the image consultants spin it.
One of my old coworkers knew the third girl that was murdered. I find that I agree with Cornel West way more than I ever thought I would. I never dreamed I'd say that five years ago but such is the world. This morning we talked about how people should be stripped of nobel peace prizes if they suck at not bombing their neighbors or promoting war by other means. Kind of like how Barry Bonds has an asterisk, we need these disclaimers for things more important than sports. Of course, dissenting in the face of tribalism obviously means I'm shilling for the other side, which is like saying if I say that Stalin sucks than I must love Hitler. Can't I just opt out? I think so.
Sociality has its downside, and with a plethora of acquaintanceships, I become more choosy, because I crave intellectual honesty, humility, the willingness to listen, the ability to admit that one is wrong and not to stick with what's comfortable when the truth is anything but. Randal once asked me why I enjoy the company of curmudgeons so much but it's for these reasons, because there's infinitely less platitudes and a way more realistic outlook that I crave when most discourse I see involves food and television or recycled flowerpower things that sound nice until you start thinking about them. Also, my cranky friends make me laugh way more, because unlike the idealists, they have a sense of humor.
In the meantime, I am amused by Tom Waits' Jewish curses, by the continued existence of traveling Estonian encyclopedia salesmen in the Arctic Circle, the discovery of the PanArabian Enquirer for my satire about douchey expats and Dubai, and Soviet bus shelters.
Also, holy crap it's a new Subrosa song.
Female vocals, downtuned guitars, and those freaking violins of awesome.