Okay, i've broken all my promises, pawned off my debts. Maybe, just maybe, I have dreams of a brighter tomorrow.

new years resolution: revisit this blog.

The Aughts In Review (An Introduction)

I wish I could have formed a musical narrative out of my life from 1990-1999. What a journey: Queensryche and Red Hot Chili Peppers and Metallica and, shit, I won't lie, some crazy ass hair metal as well, all culminating in Fugazi, Tortoise, Belle and Sebastian, and, shit, I won't lie, some pretty fucking interchangeable indie-rock bands that really don't mean shit or matter much (Versus, anyone?).

So, it's ten years later and 2000-2009 is up for grabs. A narrative is begging to be written, a narrative that I can see broad swathes of but it's the details that make the story. For all I know, the narrative is false (as a narrative written in 2000 would have been for the nineties) but try I will and try I must.

This is not a ranking, this is not a list. This is a snapshot: severed from any context, just a sound that reverberates from release date into the present.

The Aughts In Review.

Everyone should own this album, the album of the year: Diagonal.

Interlude #4

I think it was the gold tabby or maybe the lean black cat. Or maybe both, I can't tell. Did you have one or two cats? I cut it with my knife along its side and wrapped it in a towel and hid it underneath the bushes. He just wouldn't die. I kept crying and hoping each spasm would would be the one that would let me sleep. I tried to save his life but couldn't stop cutting. You walked inside our house holding the blue towel. I thought I'd brought it in and washed it. I thought I'd put down the knife.

Interlude #3

Grocery store, half empty, haunted, inching closer to death, smells of rot. Hanging a tuxedo in the employee area for the corpse to have something to dress himself in when metaphors fail. Walking home, chimes ring and the wind picks up and branches beat against windows and passing company becomes craven allies and fair weather friends. Midnight dalliances marking time, three to a bed but one to dance. No one ever comes when they say they will.