…is for one fucking week with no significant heartbreak, debilitating stress, nor major decisions that will drastically affect the next five to thirty years of my (or anyone else’s) life.
Oh well. I can dream about it, anyway.
Malajube
Pate Filo (2006)
I really kind of like this band.
…is more nights hanging out in the basement listening to Québécois radio and playing with my databases.
…to do a good Steely Dan cover. Here’s proof.
I finally disabled the Twin City Sentinel site yesterday. TCS–the name came from a defunct Winston-Salem newspaper–was originally designed to be a collaboration between Mark and me, first on local topics and then on things urban in general, but it never quite caught on with either of us (much less with anyone else) and it hadn’t been updated in a couple of years. The last PHP upgrade at Pair broke it, so I finally pulled down the remains yesterday.
I’ve moved a couple of my articles from that site to this one in case you care:
- Roanoke (23 July 2007)
- Making preserves out of history (16 February 2008)
Talk Talk
It’s My Life (1984)
Because (a) they just played it on the radio and (b) this song is always appropriate–unless it’s being sung by Gwen Stefani.
If ever there were a justification for why urban freeway construction continues not to be a good idea in most cases, the Independence Freeway project in Charlotte is it. Construction of this monstrosity over the past twenty-five years has destroyed homes and businesses and neighborhoods and created a creeping blight that has devastated much of East Charlotte. And apparently the first phase wasn’t bad enough; the wasteland is now rapidly progressing farther eastward toward Idlewild.
I feel a little possessive about the east side of Charlotte, having lived and/or worked there most of the time I spent in the Queen City. It’s really sad to watch this happen. I wrote an article on the death of Independence Boulevard for another (short-lived) site five or six years back and I should drag that out and republish it here along with some photos I took for a photo essay on the same topic.
I’m trying hard to keep my sense of humor about the irony of scrambling to qualify for a new mortgage on a house I don’t particularly want to own (or, more accurately, to continue owning) in the first place. It’s necessary so that I can afford the payments by myself until I can sell the damned thing, and so that everything will be exclusively in my name. Suffice to say this ain’t “Property Virgins” and I’m not exactly giddy with excitement. It’s just a necessary evil, I guess.
The shitty thing about same-sex marriages unsanctioned relationships in the US is that even though there were none of the financial benefits beforehand, they’re still just as much of a pain in the ass to unravel when they end. I’m just glad this one is an amicable one.
For a variety of reasons, I’ve been listening to the radio more often lately. And I’ve been noticing lots of commercials for fake testosterone supplements that will make old geezers more manly in very important ways. I can only assume these “spark and passion” inducers are directed toward guys who are in preexisting relationships. Being the fat, middle-aged, single guy I am, the boys aren’t exactly standing in line waiting for their chance at me anyway. The last thing I really need in my life is something to make me more horny.
It seems almost cruel…