Music Awards

I decided today that Beck wins the prize for best use of the tambourine. Cake wins the prize for best use of yelling random sex noises to their own music. For about two months I have been twiddling my thumbs in response to unemployment. This is not entirely unenjoyable, but America is a nation founded on DOING things, and so when people ask me what I've been DOING and I tell them I've been enjoying the pleasant company of books and good music in the comfort of a nice little cabin, carefully burning my hard-earned capital on rent and utilities, I know their first impulse is to feel a little disgusted. Like Whats-his-face in As You Like It, I like this place and would willingly waste my time in it.

One of the chickens is looking at me like I surprised it, but I haven't moved in probably ten minutes. This happens a lot with the chickens.

The song Seven Bridges Road by The Eagles is meaning a lot to me right now (not the lyrics, just the standing wave pattern that is that song and my brain aligning). The song Loco Wit The Cake by Ace Hood is meaning a lot to me also, but for very different reasons.