Let it roll... | Solid State

Let it roll...

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The Commission for Obvious Observations (of which I am a member in good standing) just released a report titled God, it's so Freaking Cold. In it, they describe the folly of living in the frozen North with, um, chilling insight. Although it's unlikely to unseat The Iraq Study Group Report from the New York Times' nonfiction bestseller list, it's a riveting read nonetheless.

A friend of mine just got accepted into the  Universiteit Van Amsterdam, where he'll attempt to get his Masters in Mysticism & Western Esotericism. Who knew such a degree even existed? I'm beside myself with excitement. It's like that scene in Goodfellas, when Henry and Jimmy think that Tommy is gonna get made. Hopefully my pal doesn't end up in an empty trophy room with a bullet in the back of his skull. Anyway, I just gotta say: congrats, Styles!

Did I mention I don't even care what you all think? Some days I just gotta listen to Morrison Hotel. On repeat. Today is such a day. "Blood is the rose of mysterious union." Yeah!

Hey, did'ja know that NYC hipster record emporium (actually, emporium isn't the right word... it's more like a shack) Other Music is starting it's own digital music service? The offerings will be underground-ish, and in a better-sounding format than MP3. I'm fairly psyched about this. Still, I wonder if it's gonna cut into mail order business for stores like Aquarius Records in San Francisco. If AQ followed suit, I'd stick with them out of loyalty.

I'm happy that Chris and Molly are coming for dinner on Sunday.

I'm happy to be getting married earlier and with less fanfare.

The world might be coming apart at the seams, but I believe '07 will be full of untold adventure for me and mine.

Do any of you know the band Deerhunter? I'm supposed to review them for Dusted this weekend. They're on Kranky, but don't particularly sound it. Ah, what do I know?

I had an awesome comment ready to go for this post at Candleblog, but Brooke's laptop ran out of juice as I was crossing my digital t's. Before I knew it, my brilliant statements were gone. Shame.

Best wishes to our man Peter Freyne.

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