These are not fall colors.

Everytime I listen to this record by Lync I can’t help but thinking how awesome it is. I think I constantly repeat, “This is awesome,” in my head.

When I found the Lp in a used been a couple years back I was really stoked. One of the neatest things I noticed after I bought the record and got home. I took it out to listen to and out popped the original receipt of purchase. 09/26/1996, that was almost eleven years earlier and a $1.14 cheaper. I always wonder why the original owner would have gotten rid of this record or what else they were listening to in 1996.

I found this little review on the Onion.

Enjoy! Lync – These Are Not Fall Colors

Road Trip.

Heading to Chicago with Rhianna for the week. Going to see Hum. Any food suggestions are welcome. Bye.

a Head.

Direct and to the Point.

Last nite, Rob had Julian from Music Tapes play in his living room in Cambridge, Ma. This is part of a caroling tour where people can invite him to play some Christmas and some of his own songs, he plays, then goes on to the next house. He was telling us about how amazing the tour has been, and how he goes from playing somewhere with forty fans to a kids house with just them and their mom to another living room with a few friends and so on… Anywhere with anyone is pretty much possible.

I have actually never heard of Music Tapes but am familiar with the Elephant 6 collective that he is/was part of. I was blown away! The sheer enjoyment that Julian showed when telling a story, singing a song, or playing his saw Badger was contagious. Rob and Andrew were beyond stoked, especially Rob. Rhianna and I couldn’t help but have the dumbest grins on our faces. Sterling and Shiph were very surprised as well. I left feeling really good about having the experience.

Not particularly a huge fan of most Elephant 6 bands, there is something to be said for playing in such an intimate environment that engaged us all. I was giving Rhianna a ride home and we talked about it. In such a direct environment, there is no sharing. The performance, the conversation, the stories are shared pretty much immediately. There isn’t the filter of three or four other groups of people, or fifty or sixty people getting the same experience. There isn’t a PA system and wires, a stage and mic’s filtering everything before it gets to you. To me there was so much more to the show, it transcended your usual “going to a show” to watch someone perform and turned it into an artist’s reception.

R.I.P., Miss Kitty.

Its hard losing things. A loved one, a girlfriend, a favorite pen. This week, I am finding out what its like to lose a pet. Miss Kitty, our family pet, is sick and has to be put down. This is right before I make it home for the first time in five months. Thinking about Miss Kitty a whole slew of memories come back, and I think maybe the scariest thing to think of is with loss we are forced to think of memory. The idea that a person, animal, or object can serve as a vessel for memory can be disconcerting. I know that memory lives in our own minds, but we tend to forget, or other things take up space in our heads; if that happens we can always rely on some sort of physicality to help the memories flood back. If this physicality is lost, can we rely on ourselves to think about our pasts?

There is an option of having the body to bury, having the animal cremated to take home, or having the animal cremated and taken care of at the vet’s office. When thinking of the choices, what is gained from the corporeal presence or even an object that could encase the ashes? The memories have been had, and anything more seems selfish.