Cheater.

I'm a cheater. I've been cheating on this blog with Tumblr and I've been cheating on Albert Hammond, Jr. with Mark Ronson. For these indiscretions, I apologize.

However, I'm back :) No one reads this, but I'm posting to make myself feel better. If I don't post, I'm going to go Dimmesdale on my ass and start whipping myself before I go to bed and ultimately die from a bleeding "A" I carved into my chest. <-That's a Scarlet Letter reference for anyone who hasn't read it. I actually enjoyed that book in high school, it's quite beautiful.

I love how I can say that now, "...in high school," as if I've been out for so long that it all seems like a distant, fuzzy memory. In a way, it does. I can't remember certain lunch room conversations I thought I'd remember forever. I don't really care, but high school wasn't as much of a miserable cliche as I have made it out to be. Could this be maturity? I don't know.

I'm sitting here, reading about Charles Manson and listening to Radiohead's Pablo Honey album. It really doesn't get old. I know Thom Yorke hates "Creep" but it's still brilliant and relevant. It's kind of like how "Don't Stop Believin" by Journey will never get old; "Creep" will live on in my iTunes forever. My children will consider it "oldies" but they'll even appreciate it.

Isn't that weird to think about? The music we listen to today will be considered "the oldies" to our kids/future generations? I can't imagine bands like The Strokes or Radiohead being considered "oldies." Fuck...I'm introspective right now, aren't I?

ANYWAYS-it looks like rain and it looks like I'm procrastinating. Shit.