Yesterday was exciting. During work I flipped through the David Blaine book, and I have to admit I'm fascinated. What a weirdo. But what a cool weirdo. Once I got past all the gimmicry and celebrity surrounding him, and read about the stunts he's done, I was amazed at the extremes the human body can be put through.

Then, Nolan practiced. We learned yet another song�this one's short and I enjoy it greatly. There's one section where I just freak the fuck out, which is what I'm best at when it comes to drumming. We also have another new song that we will probably never play live, called "I Am An Astronaut." We rotate instruments and the lyrics are as follows: "I am an astronaut / I am a gloating clock / I get so uptight / girl you're outta sight / I get so upset / when you touch my neck."

Later, I was walking down to Jenn's when a man about my age or younger approached me on the sidewalk. Turns out his car had stalled and he was looking for a jump. He entreated me to help him since it was late and "his baby boy" was in the car. I could see the baby in a car seat, under a blanket, and (presumably) the baby's mother trying to comfort the child. For a second I considered making up some fib about how I don't have a car or whatnot, but then I thought about karmic dispersal and the odds of me running into similar bad luck down the line. I got my car and gave the guy a jump. It took all of five minutes. He was profusely grateful and tried to give me money, which I refused�though for a split second I wondered just how much he would have given me.

I went down to the Deadwood with Jenn, Leah, and Jenn's friend from home, Molly, who proved to be a delightful individual. The evil internet jukebox coaxed me into feeding it my debit card, which I used to buy $5 worth of songs�about ten minutes before closing time. Well done. So we ran over to Panchero's and, while waiting in the long after-bar line, became chummy with a huge black man who turned out to be on the football team. "Oh, so you were just at the Orange Bowl," Jenn said. "Please," the man said ruefully, "I prefer to call it Miami." He then announced that Jenn, Leah, and Molly were my Charlie's Angels, and I asked him which was Cameron Diaz. He said that his favorite angel was Lucy Liu, who he compared to Bud Light, while Cameron Diaz "is more like Miller High Life, the champagne of beers." When asked about Drew Berrymore, he said he didn't much care for her.

We then became engaged in conversation with an older man, also black, who began relating to us his experiences with racism in the Midwest. We're not really sure how the conversation began, but we nodded attentively, sympathetically, drunkenly. He was jovial and wished us a good night. We walked home wondering exactly what had just happened, but thrilled just the same, and pronounced the night a success.

Friday�Alto Heceta's last show of all time, at the Green Room.
Saturday�Racecar Radar at the Green Room, then Burn Disco Burn at Gabe's.
Monday�Nolan at Gabe's.

Come see how many bands eight people can put themselves into.

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