Happily Numbing My Senses

Live music... quite possibly my two favorite words in the english language. The verve that resonates through a packed venue is splendid. The dreamy stare the hipsters gawk at the musicians with (behind their black-framed glasses of course). I saw "TV On The Radio" last night at Irving Plaza. Right on the stage, deafened by the amplifiers that were inches away from my eardrums. I met and bantered with a guy from Miami who works as both a psychiatrist and a clown. (As a few good friends may be painfully aware of, I have an encountered clowns head-on before. They play an eerie, and in some cases pornographic, role in my past.) Yes, this dude does birthday parties on the weekends for kids and counsels what he coined as, "depressed little old Jewish ladies" during the week. For more info, visit here. This is one of the many reasons I adore going to concerts solo. I always end up meeting someone interesting. He bought me a cosmopolitan. Ziggy is a gentlemen.

Ok, I really don't have much else to say. I just posted that lackluster paragraph about last night's concert out of obligation. Sure a lot has happened since my last post however I haven't been disciplined enough to post any blogs about it. I don't think the two people that read these narcissistic ramblings need to be updated on every silly aspect of my life, yes that's you Eric and Evan. I've probably already told you about it over the phone anyway.

If I wasn't mildly hungover, physically defeated (I have a bitch of a cold), and had a bit more caffeine in my system I'm sure I could conjure up a more pleasing post.

Oh yes, I must also throw in the fact that I've resold my soul to Murdoch. Yep, I'm back on myspace. Oy!