The pause that refreshes

This morning, while on my way to the train, I was harrassed by a squat, ugly, greasy little weasel. I could see him coming--he began licking his lips and muttering puerile, nasty things halfway down the block. As he approached, I was overwhelmed with the desire to yank him by the front of his shirt and shout into his face Pendejo, I wouldn't fuck you with a stolen chocha, and, after shaking him violently, I would repeat what seems to have become my mantra over the past few years, You fuck with me, you fuck with you.

Perhaps I was enervated* emboldened by my recent commitment to weight lifting at the gym. I was feeling a bit perra macha. But he was on my left, and my right arm is dominant. And I wouldn't want to injure my pitching arm this early into the season.

Clearly, the lesson here is that I need a vacation.

So, while I spend the day calming my nerves by feeding poison to the bums in the park, can I direct your attention to the right side of this blog, which some of the people whom I call friends have told me they never read?

So bmarkey has a review of the new Built to Spill and Howling Rain records. And also, you should know that he broadcasts his own radio show, Radio Lethargico, on an irregular but frequent basis, generally late in the evening. You should check it out.

And also, check out my review of Gary Amdahl's Visigoth.

And I hereby declare today "Let's Punch Greasy Little Dudes in the Cock Day." Hurrah!

*Ed note: As someone pointed out in the comments, enervated is not the right word. I hate when I make that mistake. I hate words and phrases that don't mean what they sound like they mean. Like intelligible. Or non-plussed. Grr.