Click the link if you're curious. I got it bad.
I got twenty things I could write about and I can't seem to make myself care enough about any of them to write interesting stuff about them. And the thought of actually creating a blog post with actual links just smacks of effort.
I helped gut Morwen's house last week. We accomplished a lot. We have a lot more to go. A metaphor for the gutting of the city. The T-P reports last week that some groups are saying that at current levels of volunteerism, it will take 2-3 years to finish gutting houses. Not rebuilding. Just gutting. And I get pissed that it even requires volunteerism at all to do something like this, and then my anger fades into exhaustion and, eh, I can't even muster the energy to link to the damn article.
Pictures in the flickr page, if you're interested. Over there, on the left.
I helped gut Kidd Jordan's house a few weeks back. Kidd told great stories, not just about the traditional jazz players he knows, but about some of the real out honkin' and squirtin' experimentalists that I used to listen to a lot...Evan Parker, Peter Brotzmann, Joe McPhee. Kidd saw Coltrane play to an almost empty house a few weeks before his death. Played with Sun Ra. And I didn't know this, but I went to Franklin at the same time as a bunch of the Jordan clan, and also at the same time as Wendell Pierce from The Wire.
The above paragraph should be rich with links in case you don't know who any of these people are, but...effort, man. There are pictures in the flickr page...over there on the left. No, left.
I might get to be on the field during the U2/Green Day set at the Saints game tomorrow. If I can get off work. That might be fun. If I can get off work.
I can't really blog about work because guys from work read my blog now. But y'know, these days I'd rather be smashing moldy sheet rock. The pay is lousy, though, and kids gotta eat. But I can't really blog about work.
I don't really care where Nagin is.
I'd really like to spend some quality time with some pints down at Molly's, but, well, y'know....maybe I'll just wander down to Molly's and drink some Red Bulls one of these days.
Roller derby was fun, wasn't it? Pictures...you know where to look.
I got a flat tire today. And it wasn't even a roofing nail, so I didn't lose my Katrina tire cherry. I just fucked up parallel parking and pinched the sidewall on the curb. Shit, I coulda got a flat that way back in Texas.
I can't decide which are more self-important and irritating, sex bloggers or political bloggers (locals and close friends excluded...OK, mostly I mean kos and atrios, and almost all sex bloggers).
I have a half-dozen chronic health issues of the perpetual annoyance variety that all decided to come visit in the same month. The kind of chickenshit ailments that make you wish you had a tumor, so at least they could take it out and you could actually have something worth bitching about.
I can't even be arsed to come up with a proper ending for this post.
Oh, and the new season of The Wire is quite cool.