NP: John Cage, 4'33" (dub mix)

I have this vague notion that my car's warranty was actually six years (or 60,000 miles, but I'm way under the norm for how much one drives in a year) and not five. Why, you ask? You don't? Well, I'm going to tell you anyway. Now I've got a bad wire casing going to my hatchback door that's going to set me back another couple hundred dollars. This, on top of the massive amount of maintenence I had done a month or so ago, just a couple of months after one Subaru Outback Sport's sixth anniversary in my possession.

Whatever. It's still cheaper than buying a new car, and it's all subject to my creative use of introductory credit card offers that has been keeping me afloat during my, um, transition period.

I think I'm done with the dark stuff for now. The last couple entries probably needed to happen, in a somewhat cathartic sense. Although I don't know that they had to happen in public, or at least some small subdivision of it. Putting my heart on my virtual sleeve like that is sorta new to me, and I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it. On the one hand, I almost feel like I'm trolling for sympathy, and as much as I love getting attention, I don't necessarily like doing that. On the other, it helps the people reading who actually know me in the real world to understand where my head is at right now.

Speaking of people who know me in the real world (hey, look, segue!) I had the satisfaction last night of finding out that I've turned a friend on to a local band. She only saw them a month ago, but has since bought their record and gotten some of her friends into them as well. I looked over during Ivory Wire's set last night and saw her singing along. That was cool.

Tomorrow has the makings of a logistical nightmare. No one has said whether or not I can borrow drums for the Scorpio Party, so it looks like I'll have to load the drums in the car around 4:30, drop them off at Joe's at 5, get down to the rehearsal space, load the PA for the Fire gig, get down to Soldier Field, unload and set up, play my set, tear down, get into Section 8 for the game, load the PA back into the car, drop it back off at the rehearsal space, get to Joe's, set up, play, tear down, and load the drums back in the car. It's eminently doable, but man, am I going to be grumpy about all of it if the Fire don't win.

Because I don't want to assume they will. That's really, really bad karma. My eternal watchwords remain "cautiously optimistic." I think I may try to tie every song I play WHEN I PLAY SOLDIER FIELD tomorrow to the game somehow. Like "Peace, Love and Understanding" for New England players Jay Heaps and/or Rusty Pierce, one of whom I suspect will get a yellow (or even red) card for "violent conduct."