I just want to send a birthday wish out to Mr. Poo. Have a great day even though you are now back in the land where “The tension is mounting”.


So I am home today hanging out with my mom, who keeps asking me questions about Microsoft Word and I just have no idea how to use it. Who actually uses Word anyway, it seems like the most useless application, all you can do is type into, there aren’t formulas or functions or queries. It is all very boring to me, besides if I am going to write a document I will just use Notepad, a nice and simple application. It is nice to be home though, since I really haven’t been home except to sleep for the past week or so. I did go out last night and saw the Emperor’s Club. It was pretty good, Kevin Kline did a great job and the story was interesting, not very rewarding, but interesting. Since I have been driving so much, combined with my being a little sick has caused me to lose my voice a little bit. You may wonder how that could be, but I always sing in the car and over the past week I have spent about ten hours in my car. I don’t know how musicians can go out an perform for weeks on end. The highlight of last night was definitely the snowball fight at 12:45. “Spontaneity is the spice of life.”

Tonight I am heading to the big Dave Matthews show in Albany, I can’t wait. The band has been playing a variety of songs so far on the tour and I am excited to see what they pull out of their bag of tricks tonight. Only 11 hours until they hit the stage. Oh yeah one last thing, the mileage on the car has been sky rocketing, the current odometer reading is around 4500.

Beck Lyrics of the Day
Song title: Novacane

Keep on truckin like a novacane hurricane
Blowin static on the poor man’s short-wave
Stampede’s got to dismantle
Code-red: what’s your handle
Mission incredible undercover convoy
Full-tilt chromosome cowboy
X-ray search and destroy
Smoke stack black top novacane boy
Got so low your mom won’t drum
Getting late with the suicide beat
Test-tube, still-born and dazed
Chump scum plays in the razor’s haze
Got the momentum radioactive
Lowdown!
Step aside for the operation
Don’t expect some generation
Cyanide ride down the turnpike
Hundred hours on the miracle mic
Grinding the gears eighteen wheels
Pigs and robots riding on their heels
Fine tune road block making a sand box
Diesel infernos burning like drano
Down the horizon purple gasses
Semi-trucks hauling their asses
Novacane, hit the road expressway
Explode!
Novacane!
Novacane!