When I said I wouldn't blog for a while, I didn't mean a week. Ooops. I guess that stuff happens when I get set loose on the Hill. Anyhoo, a quick update: I'm moved into my sweet new apartment with a nice stereo, and all my CDs and a couple of guitars in my room. I think this may be the perfect way to live. It's great to be finally out on my own in the place I love and some of my favorite people around me.
I know I mentioned them in an earlier post, but I have really fallen in love with Arizona. Their CD Welcome Back Dear Children finally came in the mail and was in my car for four straight days. They have this great lighthearted sound that brings together all the things that I love about music: good beat, fun catchy lyrics, and perfect melodies. I can't help but compare them to Belle and Sebastian, but that doesn't mean that this album is Dear Catastrophe Waitress Pt. Deux. These guys aren't signed yet, but I think that adds to the enjoyment I get out of these guys: to know that they are doing it for the love of it, and they're doing the grunt work. Much love to the boys and the best luck that I can possibly send their way.
On another musical note, check out Pat McGee Band. I've seen them live a few times, once at an campus block party, once with Sister Hazel and once with my favorite band of all time, SK6ers. I finally got a couple of their albums from a friend who had been hoarding them for months. They're nothing ground breaking, but you have to respect the music. It's good acoustic-rock with some O.A.R. influence. Check out their stuff if you get a chance, and their live show is definitely worth the ticket.
Finally, I just finished reading my first Hunter S. Thompson book yesterday, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and was blown away. This Gonzo journalism is the most amazing stuff I've ever read. I have a feeling he will definitely be an influence on my writing, especially if I get into novel writing. I found a great quote by him towards the end of the book that I think is hilarious and oh-so-true, even though it bashes my major and future profession. He has a point that no one can argue against:
Journalism is not a profession or a trade. It is a cheap catch-all for fuckoffs and misfits--a false doorway to the backside of life, a filthy piss-ridden little hole nailed off by the building inspector, but just deep enough for a wino to curl up from the sidewalk and masturbate like a chimp in a zoo-cage.Read his books. It must happen.
That's all for now, I'm wiped after a long weekend.