Transcontinental Drift

A brief reiteration.  Superfluous, somewhat, in aim, but true and genuine.  The red pen of concision does have its merits.  Informationally speaking:

The route puts us in metal vehicles of varying size, shape, and velocity hurtling through the air on November 3rd from Los Angles (and Oakland, respectively) to Boston whereupon we will play, then head to Brooklyn, Bristol, and Wallingford (in that order).  For details, look to the right where all of our confirmed shows are always posted (just sometimes posted tardily).  We are playing with some wonderful bands (Loma Prieta, Caravels, Unrestrained amongst them) and suggest you come out to see them if what we do yawns you to sleep.

Fog has settled here in the South Bay of Los Angeles.  I am keeping a tight watch on my Norton Anthology of English Literature.  I am nursing the black and blue out of a weight-smashed ring finger.  I am listening endlessly to the new Feist record.  I am reading Divorcer by Gary Lutz.  I am contemplating the exciting products Vitriol is pondering (records, books, photography monographs).  I am realizing the value of love, of happiness, and the beauty of California.  I am rationing food and money, as are we all.  I am splurging on my heart.  I am apologizing for having gotten it wrong, and trying endlessly to get it more right in the future.  I am reading old inscriptions in my yearbooks from people I don’t remember that say things like, “Even though everything you say is ridiculous, you’re still pretty dope.”  Mostly, I am agreeing with Harry Crews:

Jesus fuck, people keep dying.  They are dying and dying and dying.  I have lived under towering power lines nearly all my life, and they say that people are dying.  It is cancer.  And everyone has AIDS.  And people cannot eat.  It is hard to push down on an accelerator nowadays without feeling like you are killing somebody, somewhere.  It is hard to eat lunch and not feel selfish, if you’re really honest about it.  And it is tough to tinker at song titles and feel like it matters.  I am more sure now than I have ever been that you can hate the known world without having a hollow heart.  That certain misanthropies do not preclude elation.  That the world does not have to be such a beautiful place for you to fall in love with it.

Anyway.  ”Bring them all back to life…“

Al / DANGERS