Due to insanely bad design choices I was forced to change the template on my blog. I actually like this one a lot, so in the end my complete lack of design skill was an asset. Or something.
Currently I am a Contract Admin Specialist for Fluor. I know, I have no idea either. Every day I talk to people and words come out of my mouth and things get done. It's a little amazing.
Will get back to posting music soon for all you office drones out there, and am working on some video posts of The Boy Least Likely To concert and the Seattle trip with the Head Counsellor and Activities Director.
I have an uncanny ability to make very simple things almost impossibly difficult. Unfortunately, this power makes me the least effective X-Men for any end-of-the-world scenarios. When I'm not busy not sleeping, I sit in the pile of detritus that is my wordly belongings and wonder why I own so much crap. I have, at a rough estimate, enough crap for five or six other people, so if anyone is looking for crap I'm your man.
I'm going to guess turning 30 has been messing with my mood.
I should wash dishes.
I should wash clothes.
I should buy food.
I should stop listening to music that reminds me how life is essentially a lonely business.
Ten years ago, there was nothing more important to me than playing Fake Plastic Trees. I played it all the damn time. It didn't matter that I couldn't hit the notes, or really strum properly - all that mattered was I had a guitar and was annoying everyone within ear shot.
As a fitting tribute to that moment of Thomas history, here are Thom Yorke and Johhny Greenwood performing said song at KOKO in Camden as a benefit for Friends of the Earth. Well worth the watch just to see Johnny do what Johnny does best - namely weird shit on the guitar.
A Tribe Called Quest represent represent. The ladies sweat the style...like the squirrels sweat the nuts. I take it as a sign of my continuing maturity that I now recognize the Quest as one of the greatest musical groups of all time. Just try and listen to these songs without bobbing your head.
* The name of this blog was taken from a case I read in first year Torts, Mulloy v. Hop Sang. In it a doctor had cut off the hand of a "Chinaman" without informing the patient. The judge awarded $50 since the Chinaman, while Chinese, was of average intelligence, and therefore would have understood the doctor's diagnosis.