KLOS was playing Pink Floyd's "The Wall" (Patrick said, "When are they not playing "The Wall"?) during my drive home from Santa Monica last night, and I switched on during "Nobody Home."
I like this song, and I was thinking about the lyrics and how the song basically is a list. I like lists. So I tried thinking of more songs that list things, and came up with, for now, just these two:
"Tempted," by Squeeze
"Girl of 100 Lists," by The Go-Gos (this is an obvious one, no? And, granted, it's a pretty stupid song, not really in the same class as Squeeze's classic "Tempted," but still, it's a list)
Anyway, I've been thinking about trying to find some more. I'm on it, now.
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Patrick and I went to Fresh & Easy after work today. It just opened in Lakewood, and we've been curious. We spent about $30, and bought a few very interesting things (organic, free-range chicken chorizo, for instance. Tell me you're not intrigued!). They had many good things, but it felt a little cold. I guess it's supposed to be in competition with Trader Joe's, and while it was way less crowded and had a ton of interesting products, and, frankly was easier to navigate and find things, and the self checkout was convenient and easy... I think I prefer Trader Joe's.
Though, if the organic free-range chicken chorizo is any good, I'll be going there again. And soon.
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Does anybody else wonder why Apple didn't spell the name of their new operating system, Leppard?
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I just got back from a walk to the mail box. It's about four blocks, but man! It's cold outside! 55 degrees. I had on my gray, hooded, zip up sweatshirt, jeans, a white t-shirt, sneakers, and the Burberry scarf that Patrick gave me for Christmas two years ago, and is quite possibly the warmest thing I own. I had it wrapped around my neck, one tucked in the front of my sweatshirt, and one end tossed over my left shoulder. My ears were cold, though, so then I pulled the hood up. It kept flopping down, so I had to pull the strings. Then I tied a big bow. Then I felt like a huge gigantic dork.
So, right before the mail box, I passed by a house where a young blond girl (I say "girl" but she was probably 21) was sitting on the front porch talking on the phone. She was smoking a cigarette. It's really a lovely night: the sky is blue/black and there are a ton of stars, and it's cold, but gorgeous. And I thought - yeah, I've done that (except I do it off the side porch, not the front porch, and when I've done it, I usually have a beer in the other hand, and a book is usually involved), and when I passed her on my way to the mail box, I considered the idea of asking her for a smoke for the way back home, but then I took a good whiff, and thought about it, and instead, decided to run all the way home. Which I did. Well, not all the way.
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