Recording; Bill Callahan; Science of Sleep; Tapes 'n Tapes

4/16

Another Monday at the Prole. These come to an end soon when Dan gets tired of the DJ gig.

4/17

With Jeff's new toy, we had our first recording session. I've got some rough mixes from that, and though they're far from perfect sonically or musically, it's pretty damned cool having recordings of us. Vincent will be graduating soon. I'd like to have something akin to an EP finished before he goes, but that takes time. Lots of time.

4/18

Back in December we were fortunate enough to attend Joanna Newsom's magical performance at the Orange Show. You might recall that Bill Callahan—formerly of (smog)—opened the show. Well, he had another show booked here to kick off the tour for his new album, Woke on a Whaleheart. My friend Zach, owner of Austin's Backspin Records, had sent out a request for someone to shoot video of the show, a request that came from Bill to Zach through Zach's wife, who was touring as part of Bill's band.

So, sensing an opportunity, I passed the opportunity along to Greg, who likes to do the whole video camera thing. In doing so I managed to get he, myself and Cindy on the guest list. Sweet.

So we show up at the Orange Show. First act is Astronautalis, whom I might have realized sooner that I had actually seen before had he still been called MC Astronautalis. Turns out I saw him when he played a Polyphonic Spree Christmas show in... 2001? Anyway, I recall him wearing a t-shirt that said "World's Greatest Lover 1981" and he did a freestyle about that. Maybe he did some breakdancing too, or maybe that was somebody else.

Regardless, I wouldn't have expected what I got at the Orange Show that night. Astronautalis (or Andy, which I have less of a tendency to misspell) has a rap background, but hearing him that night, indie rock was the first thing that really came to mind. I mean, hip hop, in general, bores me. I think a large part of that is due to repetitive production, and with Andy, I don't have to worry about that. Modest Mouse, Built to Spill, Explosions in the Sky, lo-fi, K Records; these are all influences. Sonically and lyrically, you get something that's dense, intense, and emotionally evocative. I violated my "don't buy before you try" policy and bought his CD right then and there. Apparently he's a huge Bill Callahan fan, as are his parents who had flown in from Florida for the show that night, hence Andy having the gig. (As a side note, I saw him play this weekend and it was phenomenal. But more on that in... six months?)

So anyway, Bill Callahan was up next. I found his folky songs much more enjoyable with his full band (mostly culled from Austin act Shearwater), but ultimately I wasn't crazy about it. I 'd be interested to hear how it compares to his older (smog) material, though.

But the Orange Show is so great that you don't have to be crazy about the act to have a great time, and we did. Yay Orange Show.

4/19

Committee meeting time, and I wanted to be able to work in the Tapes 'n Tapes show on Sunday, so I worked late...

4/21

I worked on a Saturday. That's how committed I was to having everything ready so that I could go to the Tapes 'n Tapes show. Yep. Dedication.

After calling it quits at work, Cindy and I watched The Science of Sleep. It was cute and quirky in that Amelie sort of way. But ultimately it was sort of tragic. It would have been easy for it to have ended well, but it just... didn't. I'm a sucker for happy endings. I readily admit it. So my suggestion is if you watch this, stop it ten minutes before it's over. Make up your own ending.

4/22

More working on the weekend. But it was all to get to see Tapes 'n Tapes play at Numbers. The show was... maybe a little disappointing. But it'd be hard to top the intimacy and energy of that show at Super Happy Fun Land a mere day or two before they blew up at SxSW that year. Maybe it was subjective, but they just didn't quite translate to the bigger venue very well.

In Real Life...

Busy week ahead. Revisions on one paper, trying to figure out what to do with another paper that got rejected (well, that's a negative way to look at it; we'll say they "declined our offer to allow them to publish the article"); trying to get some programming done that will yield another paper (hopefully), and then putting a poster together for retreat in the latter half of the week. Busy busy. But at least I'm not Cindy, who has not one but two papers that have to be rushed out lest they be scooped...

Other than that, things are good. Hopefully I'll be able to squeeze a couple of entries in this week.

Rocking & Headache; Afghani and BtS; Grey's & Beer; Downing & Sweater; Devil & Daniel Johnston; Okkervil & Jenny

10/17

More band practice, followed by a bad neck ache thingy.

10/18

Way back in '04 when I visited Thom in Boston, he and Ali took me out for "terrorist food" at an Afghani restaurant. The food was spectacular, and when I returned to Houston I immediately asked Citysearch where I might find such food in Houston, only to be greated with its cold, digital reply that there was none to be found.

Two years later, I happen to be reading the Houston Press and see a writeup on a new Afghani place that had opened up out West. I made a mental note, and suggested it to Cindy for this particular occasion.

Afghan Tandoori King was unassuming, in a small strip center. The interior was spacious, sparse, and the restaurant wasn't particularly busy. We were quickly seated by an enthusiastic waitress. I ordered a squash and yogurt appetizer that was in theory the same as the pumpkin-based dish we had ordered in Boston, but not as tasty. I ordered a chicken dish served with rice, carrots, and golden raisins; it wasn't particularly impressive. Cindy did much better, ordering something akin to wontons or pot stickers, filled with a very mediterranean array of meet, veggies, and sauce. That dish was much closer to the cuisine we had in Boston.

Our enthusiastic waitress pushed dessert quite heavily, so we accepted. It was good, if different. Sort of a pudding, but beraing a fairly unique selection of spices (though I think I've had something simpler in Indian cuisine).

All in all, not as good as the place in Boston, but I think I owe them a second visit.

Afterwards we took off to go see Built to Spill at the (blech) Warehouse. We got there about 10 or so, not expecting the show to start until 10:30 or 11:00, only to find the band already in their second song as we entered.

We got reasonably up front, emulating the strategy that worked so well at the Gnarls Barkley show. But Buil to Spill are a band very much dependent on sonics, and in an environment as harsh as the Warehouse, they just weren't as good as when I had seen them in better venues.

It was worth going, though, to hear them play their almost-forgotten "Nowhere Nothing Fuckup", adapted from the Velvet Underground's "Oh, Sweet Nothin'". Also, I felt vidincated when Doug thanked us for coming to hear what it would be like if they "played in a giant shower".

10/19

Cindy comes over to watch Grey's Anatomy and drink beer. No one is shocked.

10/20

Cindy and I decided to check out Good Co. Hamburgers & Taqueria, as part of our continued search for the best burgers in Houston. The interior was definitely very taqueria, and there was a nice patio in the back dominated by a huge fountain. The burger setup was very Fudruckers, with all the fixins in a salad bar setup. The burgers themselves were tasty, probably on par with Beck's Prime, with some nice mesquite (?) smoked flavor. The atmosphere at Goode Co. probably pushed it ahead. Both places are maybe a little pricey for fast food-ish burgers, but a whole step ahead of most fast food chains, and maybe a half step ahead of Whataburger.

Afterwards, another night at Downing St. with Angela, the Marshes, the Bakers, and Char... except, they turned me away at the door for wearing a t-shirt. Guy inside is wearing fucking scrubs and I can't get in in a t-shirt and jeans? Fuck you, Downing Street, and in particular, fuck you, asshole door guy who probably singled me out because I was white. Yes, I went there.

Char saw us walk away, and arranged to bring me... a woman's sweater. Yep. Thankfully, it was big. Black. Plain. A little tight, maybe, but not particularly affeminate. So I put it on and the asshole door guy let me in.

But beer and cigars (surprisingly reasonably priced at the in-store humidor) made that all better...

10/21

Cindy and I decided on a movie night, and, after some debate, settled on watching the documentary The Devil & Daniel Johnston. I had heard of the man, as Guster (and a whole bunch of other notable bands) had performed covers of his songs on a tribute disc, and Dan and Kristin had gone to see a play about him, and I knew him to be a somewhat crazy songwriter.

By then end, I felt like I knew him intimately. An eccentric kid who made outsider art and wrote simple songs, he somehow ended up in Austin after briefly working for a travelling carnival, and then followed the local scene before frying his brain a bit with LSD. After that a bipolar disorder dominated his life and led to frequent delusions that the devil was all around him, haunting him and the people he loved. But enough people (musicians in particular) liked his music that he developed a following, which exploded when Kurt Cobain wore one of his t-shirts on MTV.

In the end, I couldn't really tell whether he was an eccentric outsider artist who developed this persona, or an idiot man-child whose condition was exploited to the success of his art, and a question I still can't answer even after seeing him live.

10/22

Look, I have nothing personal against Jenny Lewis. I'm sure she's talented and her fans have legitimate reasons for liking her solo work and her work with her band, Rilo Kiley.

But she doesn't hold a candle to Okkervil River. And when I miss a chance to see Okkervil river headline because their headlining show was cancelled and they were moved to an opening slot for Jenny Lewis's show, I get fucking pissed off.

I'm sure it was a financially beneficial arrangement for all parties involved. I'm sure it made complete logical sense to the bands and the promoters.

But fuck you, Jenny Lewis and Super Unison, for depriving me of an Okkervil River headlining set. Fuck you for promoting a steaming pile of mediocrity over one of the most interesting and talented bands to emerge this decade. And fuck you, fans of steamping piles of mediocrity, for making it all possible.

But we went anyway. I mean, hell, it's Okkervil river, right?

And it was a beautiful night. First cold night of the year, which is an occasion for me to be happy. Cold weather energizes me and makes me giddily happy to be alive. It makes me wonder if I would be genuinely a more well person if I lived somewhere that wasn't Texas. It was a beautiful night to be out, and catch a short set by a great band, and then hang out on the patio drinking beer and bloody marys while the fools inside listed to Jenny Lewis.

Cindy picked up a sweet collection of prints by Will Sheff. His art is a little violent and psychotic for me, but it's good, and I think it will be a neat thing for Cindy to use to decorate her apartment. I had to prod a little, but the collection was $30 for 10 or so prints, and though that's a lot of money, it was a good deal, and I reminded Cindy that she was paying less than 1% per print of what I had payed for my art.

I wanted to pick up their Australian tour EP, which has the great "Love to a Monster" and "The President's Dead" on it, but I guess it's called Australian for a reason. I've since remedied that situation through other venues, but it was a bit disappointing at the time.

Still, a great night out. Even with fucking Jenny Lewis fucking headlining.

(Nothing personal, Jenny, I swear, although the award for hottest indie rock redhead still goes to Neko Case. But seriously. Nothing personal. You were just the beneficiary of bad circumstances, and an easy target for my wrath.)

The Prole; Rocking; Heroes; GSC Happy Hour and Magnolia Electric Co.; Get Your War On and Mai's; Serena Maneesh; Dinner

9/25

Another night at the Prole with Dan DJing...

9/26

And another night of band practice...

9/27

Heroes, from its rather pedestrian beginnings as a standard comic book story, has been coming into its own, now that it has developed its charactyers and introduced compelling mysteries, rather than just showing dramatic visuals and having plot points that seem significant, but God knows why. For this week's viewing, thanks to the magic of DVR I delayed it a few days until Cindy could join me for it.

9/28

The end of the first term of the school year brought, as usual, a graduate student council happy hour. Char arranged for us to return to the inviting environs of Hans' Bier Haus, complete with cheap Zigen Bock and several platters from Buffalo Wild Wings. There was plenty of beer, good, and socializing to be had.

In a bittersweet turn of events, though, Magnolia Electric Co. had a show scheduled at Rudz that night, which I had almost forgotten as it hadn't made my calendar. Thankfully I had remembered the day before, so we made an early exit from the happy hour and headed to Rudz.

As I've mentioned before, Rudz has a great little venue upstairs, and a perfect place to see MECo play. Some guy at the table next to Cindy and I bought us beers, for some reason. I offered a round to the band but they declined. By the time I went on I had a nice buzz on, and we moved up close to enjoy the show.

They played a longer show than the extremely short shows from the last tour, but once again it was a bit short on the older material and too heavy on the newer material. They were tight as always, but I think that the fact that their new album hadn't made a big impression on me detracted somewhat from the experience.

Still, a good show, all in all. By the time we got around to leaving, the happy hour was over, so we didn't get to drop back by, but it was a good evening all told.

9/29

Somewhere Cindy had heard about the stage adaptation of the comic strip Get Your War On by Austin troupe the Rude Mechanicals, playing at Houston art venue Diverse Works, so she arranged an outing for us, roommate Sara and boyfriend Bryan, and a friend of hers from school.

We met at Cindy's, carpooled to Diverse Works, which was just north of downtown in a converted warehouse (as so many cool things are), grabbed a beer, and then some seats.

The production was good. The adaptation basically took strips from specific dates (announced at each "scene change"), and, as they're pretty much dialogue-driven, had the actors recite the dialogue from the script, which worked quite well when delivered with the proper tone and emphasis on the word "fuck" which was frequently in the strip. Certainly it was more of a stand-up routine than story-driven theater, but it was also well-done and very funny. Good job, kids.

There was an accompanying art exhibit which we checked out afterwards (my favorite was the mushroom cloud treehouse). Then on to Mai's for some post-game dinner. A good evening, and something different.

9/30

Serena Maneesh had put out a good shoegazer album in '05, so I was glad for the chance to hear them play at the Proletariat. The show was good if maybe by-the-numbers. I was going to buy their album, but the greedy bastards had priced it at $15, or maybe higher. However much it was, at the time I deemed it way too expensive and decided to pass on it.

If anyone reading this is in a band, $15 is too much to charge for a CD at shows. $12 is acceptable. $10 is encouraged. $8 will guarantee lots of sales.

10/1

Cindy, good girlfriend that she is, made dinner. Maybe blackened catfish?

Practice, Amy's; Double Dave's, Best Buy; Benjy's, Gnarls Barkley

I'm in Waco for Christmas vacation. One might think this would give me a chance to catch up on blogging, but old friends and new toys are both around. Still, I'll see what I can do.

9/12

I'd been craving Amy's Ice Cream for quite a while, so post-band practice, I rang Cindy up and asked her to join me.

I was excited because I had read on their web site that Amy's had a "call list"; that is you could sign up to be notified whenever your favorite flavors were available. Shiner and Guiness ice cream, here I come. Sadly, upon arriving at the establishment, they couldn't even find the list, which gives a pretty good indication of how dedicated they are to keeping their customers informed.

Still, good ice cream is good ice cream. My favorite ice creams there are the ones that contain alcohol, as they only further prove my theory that alcohol makes just about any food better. This time around I opted for "tequila sunrise", an orangy ice cream with a nice touch of that sweet, sweet agave-based liquor. Cindy had something chocolatey...

9/13

Will gave me a ride and we made a comic store run before grabbing some dinner. He and I seem to be on a Double Dave's kick, as we hit up the buffet there. Not the best pizza in the world, but always enjoyable.

The price had dropped $150 or so on my TV, so I made a trip up to Best Buy to get the difference taken off the balance I owed them. Sadly, they evaluated the price after my $100 cable service discount, as opposed to before, so I only got $50, but fifty bucks is fifty bucks.

9/14

Dan was wonderful enough to point out to me weeks ago that the hot new R&B/gospel/hip hop sensation that is Gnarls Barkely (which would be Cee Lo and DJ Dangermouse, with their powers combined Captain Planet-style) were being featured in a free show sponsored by Scion. Now I'm not the biggest Scion fan, seeing as how Toyota's idea of a "youth brand" is to make underpowered cheap cars rather than reasonably-priced fun-to-drive cars (well, the xA and xB fit into the former category, although the tC is more the latter, and I shouldn't fault it just because I didn't fit comfortably in it). But far be it from me to complain about a company that, in their quest for the young demographic, hires a hot new R&B/gospel/hip hop sensation to play a free show.

The only minor catch was online registration, which I had done for Cindy and I weeks before. Although Dan and Kristin decided not to use their registration, Char and Angela had both registered and were joining us for the show.

There was a bit of a panic in that registration had closed, and that they had registered more people than could actually attend. They were handing out tickets starting at 4:00, which would guarantee entry, so we managed to slip out of our respective labs early and Char picked us up in his souped-up Volvo. It was hot outside, but the Scion people had free water for us, which was nice, while we waited for 4:00 to come to collect our tickets.

After that, Char dropped us off at Cindy's car, we dropped by our respective apartments for quick showers and changes of clothes, and then met up at Benjy's (well, actually the Lounge at Benjoy's which for some reason is listed sepparately on Citysearch) for some happy-hour-priced appetizers and drinks, which is the only way we could really afford to go there anyway (unless Zaina was workiing and hooked us up, which is something we should probably investigate).

Gin was a featured liquor, so I opted for a gimlet, and I believe we had crab cakes and a barbacoa-over-polenta-over-salad sort of thing. Good, but still fairly expensive. Still, nice place, good time.

After that, on to the Warehouse for the show. A hip hop act opened up; apparently the guy had collaborated with Kanye West in some fashion. I enjoyed it; despite my tendency to find hip hop a little samey after a song or two, the live setting seems to offer enough stimulation to prevent "hip hop fatigue".

Eventually, Gnarls Barkley came out in their jammies. In addition to the soulful Cee Lo and "white-friendly" (thanks, Pithcfork) Danger Mouse, there was a full complement of strings, backup singers, guitars, and keyboards. The show was great, hitting every song from the album. We were far enough up front that the Warehouse's shitty acoustics didn't cause problems. The full band was exactly the treatment a live veresion of Danger Mouse's tracks deserved.

What a great show. Thanks, Toyota.

Pappadeaux's & the Ginger Man; Practice; Batman Beyond; Khyber & Snakes on a Blog; Minty drinks; Woodrow's; Cooking

8/14

We were interviewing a postdoc candidate in lab, and I was asked to take him to dinner, which seemed like a good idea at the time.

This was right around the time of all the "heightened airport security" bullshit, so after I ran home to get my car and picked up the interviewee, I had to take him to get bubble wrap so he could pack his laptop in his luggage. Then I had to run back up to school to pick up my lab mate that was joining us.

The trouble with dinner was, our interviewee he was (originally) from Algeria, and because of the culture he was raised in, didn't "like to be around drinking". So no beer on the lab budget, tragically. I took him to Pappadeaux's, as he seemed willing to try something new. Lab Mate (who happens to be a little dense) managed to order the cold shrimp and raw oyster plate—without realizing that the oysters were raw. Smooth. Seemed like such a waste. I tried one, but I wouldn't necessarily say that I enjoyed it. Thankfully, I had ordered crab cakes for us as an appetizer, which were good. Our interviewee went with fried crawfish; labmate went with some kind of plank grilled fish, and I tried the blackened catfish (which was actually disappointingly bland). Lab Mate also has an annoying habit of hearing things, misinterpreting them, and spitting out the misinformation at a later point, so I spent a good portion of the evening correcting some of his notions about the US, Texas, Houston, BCM, and the lab for our guest.

I talked them into getting the sweet potato pecan pie for dessert, though, so it wasn't all bad.

Then I had to take interviewee back to the hotel, and then David home, and finally, finally, made it back home to enjoy the rest of my birthday. Cindy came by and picked me up to take me out for beer at the Gingerman.

8/15

Band practice. I continue to suck less. We pick up a few cool covers. Jeff has a nice original called "Satellite" that's a waltz. Rocking occurs.

8/16

At some point I had borrowed a DVD with the first few episodes of the animated Batman Beyond on it. I had not long before that rediscovered my love for the excellent DC Comics animated TV shows (Batman, Superman, Justice League) and so was glad to get to fill in this missing piece.

I think I had previously watched the DVD, but since then I downloaded a bunch of episodes off of BitTorrent and so I spent my evening working my way through them. The show was entertaining, but probably the least so of the four cartoons. It seems to be a bit far from being a masterpiece, but I can't help but wonder if the feature-length movie corrects some of that—particularly, darkening the tone a bit, which is a bit kiddie because of its teenaged protagonist.

8/17

Graham and Angela hadn't made it to my birthday party, and offered to make that up to me by taking Cindy and I out to dinner. We ended up at Indian restaurant Khyber, which was quite tasty.

Afterwards, we had a date with Will to see Snakes On A Plane (seems overly pretentious to capitalize that). The movie delivered what was on the tin, and did so in a completely entertaining manner. So, surprisingly not criticisms from me.

Well, more tits wouldn't have hurt it. I mean, it was just that kind of movie. Oh, and that music video at the end was just awful.

8/18

Despite the best efforts of Kristin to get us up to the Prole, Cindy and I opted for a cheap night in. Cindy brought over some mint leaves and we made mint julips (which were good but would have been better with seltzer instead of plain water) and mojitos. TV was probably watched.

8/19

Matt, who had previously left school, was back in town for the weekend and wanted barbecue. He, Graham, Char, Will and I hit up Goode's for some sauce-drenched goodness before wandering across the street to Goode's Armadillo Palace for a round.

Notes indicate that I went to Woodrow's that evening. No more details available.

8/20

Notes would seem to indicate that I spent the evening cooking. I think (think!) that was probably the evening that I tried a couple of Alton Brown gazpacho recipes. One was sort of a dip that used Bulgar wheat in addition to the traditional tomato and bell pepper flavors. The other was fruit-based, but in the more traditional cold soup form. The tomato-bssed dip one didn't really turn out very well; it just never quite tasted good.

The fruit one, on the other hand, was pretty good. I should have cut the cucumbers, and I was short on walnuts, but the grapes, white grape juice, and apples combined well with everything and it ended up being tasty—especially after I added my own touch, one (carefully) seeded habanero.

The next night I would try an Alton Brown macaroni and cheese recipe, which turned out badly thanks to my managing to fuck up tempering the egg into the sauce. A suggestion for the recipe was to take a bar of the final product, chilled, and batter and fry it, which redeemed it, though I would imagine it would redeem just about anything.

Will & Justice League; Practice and the Prole; Bloc Party; 702 soap opera

8/7

Will had no softball on Monday night, for once, so he came over and we watched some Justice League Unlimited, thanks to my Mac mini and BitTorrent.

8/8

Band practice, with the new gear for the first time. It facilitated much additional rocking. Stopped in at the Prole on the way home for a drink (with whom I'm not entirely sure; a safe guess is that Dan was there).

8/9

Bloc Party was one of the best acts at ACL last year, and the album managed an impressive showing at #7 on the top albums list last year. So, naturally, I'd been looking forward to their Houston show.

It was my first show in Warehouse Live's ballroom, and it turns out that it was the beginning of a burning hatred that I have for the place. I was none to fond of their "studio" room, but it looks great by comparison.

The acoustics were nothing short of awful. Huge amounts of reverb resulted in a frothy santorum of indistinct, mushy sound. There aren't many ways to ruin a show by such a kick ass band, but those fucktards at Warehouse Live managed it. It's not gotten any better, though ear plugs and being close to the stage result in slight improvements.

It wouldn't be such a big deal if it weren't for the assload of good bands booked there. The Engine Room, the Meridian, even fucking Numbers are preferable venues. Hell, I might even prefer the damned Verizon and its atmosphere killing corporatism, seeing as how the sound doesn't suck there.

Plus, they have fucking bathroom attendants. For the love of God, let me piss in peace.

8/10

Will, as is his typical MO, managed to stretch the truth just so and involve me in it for the purpose of spending time with a girl. She was a waitress at Woodrow's, but also tended bar at 702.

So Will tells her that I'm trying to decide which bar to have my birthday party at, and that I'd like to come see 702. Which isn't quite true, since I've already picked Rudyard's, but I agreed to play along.

So we get there, and have some drinks. The place has some decent lounge-iness going on. Anyway, it's got a rectangular bar in the center of the room, and we're on one side.

On the other side are two guys in shirts and ties (presumably still dressed from work), talking to two girls. It's pretty obvious that the guy in the orange shirt is jumping on a grenade for the guy in the blue shirt. This goes one for a while.

Blue Shirt and his girl go outside. Cell phones come out, numbers are presumably exchanged, and they come back in. More talking.

We see Blue Shirt's girl walk back toward the bathroom, followed closely by Blue Shirt. They disappear into the men's bathroom. Char, his curiosity piqued, decides now's a good time to make a bathroom trip. Around the same time, one of the bartenders mentions this development to management, who goes in and tells the couple to get out.

More talking.

Pretty soon after that, Blue Shirt and his girl leave.

We figured that with the primary objective accomplished, Orange Shirt would leave to recover from his grenade-jumping-on. But soon, he and Grenade are making out. They leave together.

After an hour or so, Blue Shirt's girl returns, sits down at the bar alone for a while, and has a drink. Pretty soon after that, Grenade comes back and joins her.

Curtains.

It was much more entertaining in person, I swear.

Carpentry; Proletariat; Randa & Sabrina; Practice; Valhalla; Mom & Dad, Cindy's Reunion; Movies and Rudz

7/31

Unhappy with the fact that my keyboard wasn't really beefy enough to straddle my keyboard stand, my thoughts turned to engineering a solution. Luckily, I thought to consult Lab Dan, who himself was an experienced engineer in the Navy ("in the navy").

He had some good ideas, and offered to help me construct something that night, which was good since he actually had a space to work (his garage) and a full complement of tools (including those of the power variety).

We met at the Lowe's near me, and grabbed a pre-cut plank of wood, some rubbery shelf lining, some contact cement, and some spray paint. We headed back to his place and set to work. I glued the shelf lining to the top side of the plank, this would provide a nice non-stick surface to grip my keyboard.

Dan set to work cuting some small pieces of wood; these were then glued to the underside of the plank and provided hold the arms of the keyboard stand in place. Finally, we primed and painted the thing, and left it to dry.

8/1

Um, went to the Proletariat, I guess. Can't remember details.

8/2

Randa was in town, an occasion which called for drinking. She, Sabrina and Shawn picked me up from school, dropped by my apartment, and then we made for the Saucer downtown. It was pint glass night, and by ordering a pint of Sam Adam's seasonal summer beer, I scored myself a free logoed pint glass. Sweetness. We had dinner; I enjoyed their tasty buffalo chicken wrap. And then there was more beer. I finally got around to trying their "chocolate truffle": a pint of Young's Double Chocolate Stout, with a splash of Lindemann's lambic framboise (rasberry). Quite tasty.

We stopped by Woodrow's in the village for a round before calling it a night.

8/4

The annual graduate student council night at Valhalla arrived. Cindy had grudgingly agreed to take off work early and drive me over there, but that afternoon Dan came by and offered me a ride over... on his motorcycle. It seemed to me that this was a way for everyone to win. I got to ride a motorcycle and start drinking early; Cindy got to work later and not have to alter her schedule. Apparently my changing our plans pissed her off, though she later got over it and realized that I was, as usual, right.

Anyway, the motorcycle. Dan's got a Honda VTX 1800, a cruiser-style bike with a 1.8 liter engine. That's bigger than some cars, like Cindy's (1.6, if I recall correctly). It's only slightly smaller than my car's 2.3 liter engine. And this is on a bike that's a fraction of that weight.

Anyway, I'd never ridden on a motorcycle before. Hopping on and riding out of the parking garage, I was scared shitless as I realized that the ground was moving below me, with nothing between me and it but my balance. Moving out onto the open rode, the feeling intensified, but I started to understand how it would be signifcantly less scary with the bike under your control. Dan had, wisely, informed me not to move around, and that you didn't actually have to actively lean into the corners, but that the laws of physics pretty much did that for you. All you had to do was follow what felt natural.

We made it to Rice without dying, and I actually found the experience quite thrilling.

So on to the beer. We had kegs of Shiner and Lonestar available to us. Not only that, but my car was safely back at my apartment, so I was free of responsibilities and proceded to start getting dee-runk. Char had cleverly gotten venders to sponsor the event, so the beer flowed freely. It was a good time.

The kegs began to run out and arrangements were made to move the party on to the Saucer. Cindy showed up to pick me up, and after a brief stopoff at my apartment, we headed to the Saucer. I got involved telling some story (oh, how mom had called me to ask for an explanation about my car being towed and me replying angrily that it was none of her business and that I had been well on my way to forgetting that little slice of injustice) and we missed our exit off of 59, and then our attempt to turn around somehow got me even more bizarrely turned around, which almost never happens.

We eventually made it to the saucer, where Oliver was working on a girl, Wanda was working on a guy, and Cindy and I got to work (more boringly) on an order of cheese fries (which were inferior to the Cricket's variety, though I've always thought that the Saucer was an inferior version of Cricket's, though the Saucer is probably the older of the establishments). Lots of grad schoolers made it out, which was always good to see. It's fun to get everyone in the same place every once in a while.

8/5

Mom and Dad came into town to catch a flight out to New England the next day. As an early birthday dinner we went out to eat at Pei Wei. Mmm... lettuce wraps...

Cindy's high school reunion was at the nearby Sam's Roadhouse, so a quick trip up the road from my aunt and uncle's got me there.

It didn't, however, get me in without having to pay their damned $3 cover. Cindy didn't know about it because she managed the ol' "I'm talking on my cell phone" trick. Regardless, it was idiotic, so they go on my monetary karma list, owing me $3 (along with my apartment complex and the city of Houston).

Despite the crappy venue with its crappy country and annoying suburban clientele, I had a good time with Cindy. It probably would have been a better time if I'd thrown back a few extra beers, but I had to drive us home.

On the way to the bathroom I snagged a bottle of Frank's Red Hot Sauce, nearly full. We'll be generous and put the value of that at $1, bringing Sam's Roadhouse debt to me down to $2.

One word of advice, though. If you have a bottle of hot sauce in your pocket and it leaks a little, and you move it around to keep it from leaking more, and you happen to be a guy using the bathroom at the time, be careful what parts of your anatomy you touch with that hand. Just FYI.

8/6

A nice, leisurely Sunday. I finished up watching the movies that Cindy and I had rented, including the aforementioned Jesus Is Magic. There was also that other movie Cindy and I had rented... maybe something she had seen but I hadn't. For the life of me I can't remember what it is now.

Got a call later in the evening; Dan and Kristin were up at Rudz. I stopped by for a couple of rounds, before taking off and making a Whataburger run. Will was up at Woodrow's, so I dropped by and consumed my food there, along with beer, conversation, and darts.

Car and Proletariat; Practice; Freebird's, BB&B, Holly; Tapatia, Village; The Village (again); Guitar Center and BBQ

7/24

Cindy and I left early to pick up my car from The Other Body Shop. It was way the fuck out west, near where Dan used to live (like a quarter mile away from his old house). I saw it sitting in the lot and noticed that a) they neglected to removed the tire rubber marks from the paint and b) they neglected to replace the cracked plastic on the grill. What, did they do the whole fucking repair blind folded? The incompetence is staggering. Simply staggering. Rather than let them do touch my car again, I told them that I was taking it and would let the other shop finish up their shoddy work.

Joke's on them, though, because I never actually paid the deductible.

I enjoyed driving it home, of course, though I was pissed about having to deal with more repairs, and all over a fucking tire tread from an 18 wheeler.

Anyway, later that evening it was another Monday night at the Proletariat, which I was free to actually drive to. What a luxury!

7/25

Another night of band practice. I got Whataburger for dinner on the way home, which is always nice.

7/26

Cindy's birthday was coming up, so I stopped by Bed, Bath and Beyond and picked up the magnetic spice rack she wanted. Stopped off on the way home at Freebird's for a burrito, which I hadn't done in quite some time.

Holly, who I kind of sort of dated a year or so previously, was back in town and I caught up with her and her mom for a round at Two Row's, and I remembered why I don't ever go there for dollar beers anymore: it's fucking crowded.

7/27

Took the car back by Foreign Auto Body ("the good place") and they got the rubber off the paint, which was nice. They ordered the part for the grille, and told me that I could come back in when the part was delivered and they'd install it while I waited.

Got back home in time for Holly to pick me up, and we went to Tapatia for lunch and had a little more time to catch up before she dropped me off at school.

Went to the village that night with Cindy. Had a couple rounds at the Ginger Man, then went next door to Woodrow's, where Char and some of the other usual suspects were. I was enjoying a beer when I saw a tow truck drive by with my car.

I had parked in a spot that was, technically speaking, signed as tow away, though the sign was pretty nonobvious, nailed to a telephone pole at the very corner of the street and about three feet off the ground. People parked there all the time, and still do. Dunno if it was a new pig, or if Houston was feeling poor, or if somebody was on a power trip, but I got fucked.

Took me a while to track down the car, but I eventually went to pick it up, only to see a ticket on the windshield. Grand total was about $250, which I have added to my karma list. This list includes the city of Houston for around $260 (the extra $10 is a recent addition that I'll explain when the time comes), the apartment complex for $50 (erased when I managed to get an extra month at my old rent, and get a cheaper rent than I was originally quoted when I renewed), and $2 at Sam's Roadhouse for making me pay a cover for their crappy bar (also to be explained later). Probably more entities that have screwed me out of money, but those are the ones I remember off the top of my head.

7/28

Cindy had been talking up Reggae Hut for a while, so we settled on that for her birthday dinner. It was located on Almeda, and we parked in the lot behind the building and went in. The walls were brightly colored and the place sparsely but likably decorated. I felt very white, but in a culturally immersed sort of way, not a threatening sort of way.

We settled on an order of plantains as an appetizer, an order of jerk chicken, and an order of curried goat. The plantains were given to us immediately and had been cooked to a dark color. Our meals came next. Both were served with some very well-seasoned and tasty veggies, and black beans and rice. The goat was OK. It was very much like lamb, except maybe a bit stringier. The curry seasoning was fairly light.

The jerk chicken, however, was incredible. The meat was flavorful but also moist. The jerk seasoning was spicy but oh-so-tasty. The portions were generous on all counts, and we had at least a meal's worth of leftovers. Consider me a convert.

Afterwards, sraight to Little Woodrow's (carefully choosing my parking this time). We had a few drinks there before things got a little too crowded, and we recruited Char and Angela to go to Hans' Bier Haus. As always, I enjoyed the nice selection of beer but also ran my tab up a little higher than I might like to.

This visit, we decided to try out bocci ball, which I have concluded is the ultimate drunken game, combining positive aspects of pool (rolling and colliding balls), shuffleboard (distance-based accuracy), bowling (hand-rolling), and croquet (but with less frustration). Great fun all around.

7/29

Mom and Dad had agreed to fund a little birthday spending, so I opted for some implements of rocking. I got one of those x-style keyboard stand, which turned out to not be an ideal design for my small and light keyboard (which was later remedied), but also a little shaky on carpet. I also got a keyboard bag which turned out to be a little big, but the extra size ended up being useful in solving my stand problem. Finally, I happened to see the official songbook for Ben Folds' Songs for Silverman and figured I'd grab that, too.

Levi was working and he hooked me up, saving me (or I guess Mom and Dad) a ton of money.

Cindy and I were invited to a couple of barbecues that weekend. The one thrown by her friends started first, so we headed up to the Heights to partake, bringing with us chicken and sausage to grill. There was other good food around, including ice cream cake. We took off a ltitle while later, and I checked in with Anup to discover that his barbecue had ended, so we grabbed some movies and headed back to my place for films and cocktails.

First up was The Squid and the Whale, which was painfully and realistically awkward and had the air of a more serious, more caustic Wes Anderson flick, which makes sense since it turns out he produced the thing. Great movie, but not exactly uplifting.

We also rented (but didn't watch at that time) Sarah Silverman's Jesus Is Magic which was, frankly, crap. There was something else, too, that I watched later, but I can't recall right now.