Visibility

Readers, my new place needs some window treatments. My room is beautiful and well-lit and could even be considered quite the love nest. There are however, three large windows that provide great viewing access from the kitchen, and another couple that expose me and my guests to the outside. My favorite part is how when my head is on my pillow, it's three feet from a neighbor's patio.

Moving

Last entry from Hoyne. Last home DSL for what I imagine will be months (stupid Earthlink). I may develop the shakes.

Waking Up

The air conditioner was loud, so turning the music up so we could hear it over the hummmmm made the room seem quieter.

One Letter, and Other Assorted Sunday Night Notes

Readers, I like how "self-referential" (like this or any other blog) and "self-reverential" (like this or any other blog) are one letter apart.

This is a neat site. I've been told by someone wise that I belong to a burgeoning subculture of people obsessed with lists and this caters to that nicely. My first website, in fact, displayed my favorite two-hundred classic rock songs. It had blinking text, and generated a shocking amount of comment considering it was a 16-year-old's musing on the Doors and the relative greatness of Eric Clapton's various bands.

This blog is now one of 3,083,324,652 sites indexed by and searchable on Google. It took surprisingly long, but I've made it. A rabid fan following is sure to come next. I've warned Blogger about the likely increased load. Thanks to everyone who made this possible.

I might ditch the whole "Readers" theme. It really isn't funny.

I'm slightly sad that everyone at my company has happily interlinked blogs, but none of them link to mine. Then again, their blogs are about computer programming and the best way to structure software teams and other stuff like that. Mine is self-ref(v)erential. I write to it in hopes of spitting out a clever, well constructed sentence, I think. Occasionally I do, and I'm proud.

Narrator: Tyler, you are by far the most interesting single-serving friend I've ever met... see I have this thing: everything on a plane is single-serving--
Tyler Durden: Oh I get it, it's very clever.
Narrator: Thank you.
Tyler Durden: How's that working out for you?
Narrator: What?
Tyler Durden: Being clever.
Narrator: Great.
Tyler Durden: Keep it up then.

Wump

Mike Gordon's new site is hilariously odd.

A wump happens when you pound the strings while moving the left hand perpendiagonally

Celebrity

Readers, I got told that I look like Kramer today. Time for a haircut.

Some have claimed it's more Bob Saget than Kramer, but I don't see that.

Self-Indulgent Rock Chronology

Readers, let me tell you, a year ago when I moved to England I loaded up fifty or so CDs in a Case Logic folder that's old and decrepit enough to sometimes lets discs slide out of its yellowed slots. My Case Logic friends accompanied me on my Summer-of-Jeff adventures: Death Valley in a Lincoln Town Car Executive with Josh and sitting in traffic on the way to Bonnaroo with Jason and (lovely) Eisa. The other night, I decide to restore the CDs to their cases. I didn't finish, of course, and they're curently strewn all over my living room, no doubt endearing me further to my landlady, who is taking prospective renters through my flat three times daily. Still, going through them I thought of High Fidelity, where after his girlfriend moves out, John Cusack sorts his enormous record collection not alphabetically, but chronologically, hoping that in identifying the playlist order of his life's soundtrack, he can uncover some meaning or catharsis or distraction. I make no such high-falutin' claims, and frankly I'm okay without any catharsis right now, but without further ado, here's a "randomly" selected selection of albums, and whatever I can summon up about them from my chronology:

• Digable Planets, Reachin' (A New Refutation of Time and Space). Prashant, who is now an ENT doctor, had this in the dorm when we were freshmen, and it was close to the top of my soon-to-purchase-or-pirate list for maybe six years. I think I bought it used at buy.com in 2001 and it spent a year or two on my desk at work. The only other CD on my desk at work was by Slobot. The lead singer of Slobot gave me that in the Foundation Room at the House of Blues after they opened for Keanu Reeves' band Dogstar. Slobot had not been impressed with Dogstar. I can't make this stuff up.


• Radiohead, Coup D'Etat. Sometimes foreign phrases, like Coup D'Etat are written in italics. So are titles. Does that mean they cancel each other out and should be normal text? No matter. I got this CD at Camden Market in London this winter. It's terrible, and was the death knell for my on-again off-again romance with bootleg CDs. I'm pretty sure a bunch of the tracks have nothing to do with Radiohead, or at least they shouldn't.


• The White Stripes, De Stijl. Matt Neuroth, rock star, played me a tape in his car one night a couple of years ago when it was really really really cold out. It had The White Stripes on one side and The Strokes on the other. I hadn't heard of either one yet, but I remember him telling me they were going to be big. He said that De Stijl was better than the Stripes' album that had just come out (White Blood Cells) so I got it a few weeks later. "Hello Operator" proved to be an excellent driving song, though when I played it for my teeny-bop Mom on a trip home to Ann Arbor, she shrieked "What is this crap?!?" after a couple of measures. Freaking out your Mom is something rock is supposed to do, but I seem to always try to share my favorites with her, with very limited success.

Neat-o, But They Don't Want Me

I found this the other day, Readers, and I've prostrated myself at their feet, but they won't let me join. It's a baseball simulation that keeps an amazing amount of history from its own simulated universe. Maybe someday.