I Know Every Yardarm from Main Mast to Jib Sheet
Today is Matthew’s birthday. I remember being almost 10 when he was born. It always strikes me as funny, that he’s such chunk of years younger than me. I already took care of his present(s). One was a copy of The Decemberists Live at UCLA DVD. I also got him a gift certificate for the iTunes Music Store—and I don’t even expect him to share with me what he downloads. I really AM a great big brother. Of course, if he got something he knows I would enjoy, he might, of his own accord, offer to give me a copy. Which would be very nice.
Since this blog is not for reporting on my work, I won’t mention how my benefits are being cut or how I am possibly worth more dead in a catastrophic accident than I am alive.

While safely within the borders of this blog I often present an image of myself as some sort of epitome of 30something hipness, but the truth is, my indie universe is not all that exapansive. I never liked the Breeders or the Pixies. I’ve tried to like Pavement and My Bloody Valentine (I have, I have!), but I just can’t. It’s only just now that I’m discovering Pedro the Lion and the New Pornographers. So, that’s my confession.

Dinner: smoked ribs, a local restaurant's specialty.