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9-5-02 // 9.13 am if you want I'll sell you a life story NP: The La's - "The La's" I rescued this particular copy from a charity shop in while I was in England. It's fairly scratched and worn, but it plays perfectly. The album reminds me of the train from Evesham to London. I had to get to London Paddington, then take the tube to King's Cross in order to take a direct train to Scotland. Anyway, I digress. I remember playing this disc en route to Paddington. I remember feeling like the train stopped every five seconds, picking up more commuters for the morning rush. Oxford, Reading, and countless other places I don't recall the names of passed by. I remember Looking Glass, the album's last song, coming on just as we entered greater London. I remember admiring the graffiti on the concrete walls surrounding the train tracks and marvelling at all of the rowhouses in every consecutive suburb. When on trains and planes, I tend to wonder about the people in the houses and towns passed over or through. It's just strange and interesting to contemplate so many lives, you know? I'm currently drinking a can of tomato juice and enjoying the relative quiet of the lab in early morning. Well, it's not so early at this point, but for the people I work with it is. I get in around 7.30 or 7.45 every morning, and before 9 or 9.30, it's usually just me and one or two other people. Which is fine by me. The less noise and such means more time for me to concentrate and get things done before people get in and tell me to do other things. It's ever so slightly beginning to turn from summer to fall, I noticed this yesterday evening on my way home from work. It's the angle of the sun, the way the light falls and casts shadows on things. Everything looks slightly sharper and more three dimensional at this time of year, culminating in about early to mid October, when the entire multi-dimensional infinity of all creation looks and feels crisp. There She Goes is easily one of the best pop songs ever written. Show me a better chiming guitar figure and I'll eat a Smiths 45 (original, not re-released). Oh, and for the record, the Sixpence None the Richer cover is utter crap. They remove the glorious backbeat, tone down the guitar riff and meld it into some lame acoustic strumming, and of course there's also that female vocal, which is not only syrupy sweet, but also kind of creepy. Today feels like a good day, at least so far. I'm a bit tired, but I'm also feeling productive and in control of things at work. And of course, today is also payday...not to mention the fact that the weekend is just around the corner. As for now, I'm out of here. Later gators.
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