The Christopher O'Riley show last night was awesome. He played for about two hours, not including the ten-minute break between sets. The first set was mostly stuff from his new album, but the second set was largely Radiohead-based. He opened the second set with "Airbag," "Subterranean Homesick Alien," and "No Surprises." Then he jumped into a three-song Elliott Smith block, circled back to a few songs from his new album, then closed with "Paranoid Android." His encore was "Fake Plastic Trees" and "You." It was pretty fantastic. If you feel like reading essentially the same thing, but a little bit longer (and with a picture), then you can check out the review from The New York Times.

The new Weezer album -- I can't even make myself say the title -- is just sounding worse and worse. The first single is apparently titled "(If You're Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To." That's funny, because I most definitely DON'T want you to. Release this record.

So here's how strongly I dislike the idea of smoking cigarettes: The butane lighter I stole from a drunk guy at 5AM in Richmond back in 2002 finally ran out of butane. (Okay, okay. I can't just write a sentence like that and not reveal an amusing anecdote: This guy was so drunk that one of his friends, wanting something from the vending machine, told the guy that he had to fork over some cash quickly because "the vending machines are closing soon." It worked. Because this guy was just that drunk. So my stealing his cool lighter wasn't some deftly performed theft, it was just me waiting until he passed out.) Anyway, so I had to buy a new lighter. I figured the local Walgreen's would be a good place to go. I walked in and quickly realized I had no idea where they would keep lighters. I had a hunch that they'd be behind the counter along with the cigarettes, but I wasn't sure. So, after a couple minutes of searching, I went up to the front with nothing in hand. I confidently asked the cashier (because, come on, I didn't want to make it seem like I had no fucking clue where the lighters were) for a lighter. The cashier turned around and there, practically on the floor, completely not visible at all, were the lighters. Then she asked me what color I wanted. This question threw me off. "Uh, whatever," I said. "Red okay?" she responded. "Yeah, sure," I said. So I got a red lighter. People who know more about these things than me: does the color of a lighter mean anything? If so, what does getting a red one mean? Is this like reading one's tea-leaves?

Anyway, the point is, buying the lighter caused extensive-and-long-lasting psychological trauma that will require years and years of-- okay, I'm over it. I just felt weird, that's all.