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December 16th, 2004

Lyle Lovett Croco-Dovette

I don't know what's wrong with me, Linus. Christmastime is here, but I don't feel what I'm supposed to be feeling.

Well, except I did have to go into a Big Box store this evening, and I think I was feeling what I think it makes sense to be feeling then. It was a "Best Buy" store, and to buy something and get out of there one has to go through a maze of big cardboard boxes, slowly forced, like cattle in the shoot, past dozens of potential impulse buy items. The phony wish of a good night & to take care, given to everyone leaving the building---and someone was leaving every 4.6 seconds---just cemented the cynicism, if it wasn't already set up enough by the experience inside the store, which I'll spare you.

Cynicism at commercialism is right in the ol' (Charlie Brown) Christmas tradition.

I was in there to pick up some audio CDRWs for the already-archaic CD recorder, cuz my hunch is I'll want to put at least a few songs from elpeez (and maybe even from a cassette) onto this mix I'm aiming to put together for to give people I see on my New Year's-y trip, and anybody else who wants one. I think it's going to be mellowish. Solitary Xmas. Songs I Sing To Myself, Yeah I'm Singing To Myself, What's It To Ya. But not 100% self-pity or anything. I still have my $25 gift card to Borders, and anybody who has a suggestion of an artist or song, lay it on me, do. Jazz, folk, bluesy, but maybe better just blue, or pickin'-self-up-with-bootstraps---so long as it's bittersweet. I seem to be picking slow piano tracks a lot.

I did earlier acquire Keith Jarrett's Out of Towners, for the cover of "It's All In the Game". [<---wow, look: i've finally become a carrier of that particular bit of MR style] [meaning the " ". ", vs. the " ". ."] [ha ha] But maybe it'll have a bit of a beat, in the middle at least. After all, I've just discovered Laura Love from the library of our departed Paula, whose death, it turns out, was caused by a "viral infection of the heart." [<---hmm. still pure on the punctuation there.]

What the hell is an infection of the heart, anyway? I tried snooping the internet for it a little, but there was work to do, and I'd already been answering e-mail for a little while. Aw, Paula. Thank you for the CDs. I'm picking out some good'nz. Gave disclaimerwill that Todd Rundgren e.p. You probably would have ended up giving it to him eventually yourself. Oh, I took that one stamp, too---the one of fig. x, where x is something or another, with the labelled balls swinging from the beam-like horizontal. The one you thought had a kind of science-y air that'd work in Refuse.

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Dare I now go start the next DVD in "Six Feet Under," the art therapy program that costs you most of a night's sleep if you don't put it in by early evening, cuz who can stop? homovegetarian knows what I'm talking about on this one.
 
Janus
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