Adam: First of all, that story is crazy. I think that would really freak me out, if someone tried to open my door while I was sleeping. Not cool.

Second, (and most importantly), you've read about this Bad Astronaut mini-tour, yes? A whopping four dates, all in California? I've always thought it was a bit much, people coming from other parts of the country just for a show, but I'd be willing to make the trek for Bad Astronaut. What about you? If we could get tickets, would you be willing to go out to California? Either do a little road trip from Denver, or just meet up there? What do you say? Dates are (in case you haven't seen them) July 8-11.

Okay. That's about it for now. Oh, good news: That Octavia Butler book, Dawn, the last book I have to read this semester? It's actually pretty decent. For sci-fi, it's pretty good. The cringes have been kept to a minimum, which is nice. All right. It's Friday. Holla.

Once upon a time, last night at about midnight, I woke to hear a pounding on my door. It went knock knock. Then it went pound pound. Then the handle turned and someone tried to come in. So after laying in bed for five minutes waiting for whoever it was to go away, I decided to get up and check it out. Through my peephole I saw a skinny, pale girl crying. My first thought, the good guy that I am, was that this girl might have been attacked or raped or something and might need help. I opened the door.

Through vacant eyes she told me she thought this was her apartment. I told her no, this is my apartment. I was fairly certain about this since all my stuff is in it, and I was sleeping there. She wasn’t convinced. After an uncomfortable pause during which she tried to find words, she asked if this was the apartment that I had been assigned. I think she confused apartments with parking spaces. After I told her that I guess I was “assigned” this apartment (meaning I came here an signed a lease for this apartment), there was another silence. At this point I began to become aware that this girl was holding herself uncomfortably, and the thought occurred to me that she was probably on drugs, and something harder than weed. She had been knocking and looking scared and crying because her dealer wasn’t opening the door to give her her next fix. She was coming down.

Last week after the Avett Brothers show I shared an elevator ride with a couple who I’m pretty sure were going to my floor for drugs. The girl in the elevator had the same look – sunken eyes, thin, green tinted skin. They asked me if I was going to Cole’s (which I took as Kohl’s, and subsequently wondered why I’d be going to Kohl’s at 12:30am and why these people would pick that store to ask me about). After I looked at them with a puzzled expression, they said “Oh, do you live here?” That was the first time I started to wonder if I had a drug dealer around the corner.

Anyway, last night, after several questions that seemed aimed at getting me to admit I was a dealer, the tweaker girl apologized for bothering me and wandered off. I laid in bed wide awake, my heart pounding. When the handle on the door turns and someone tries to come in when the door’s locked, the door still moves. The way everything in the apartment is so cheaply made, it’s not hard for me to imagine that if someone really shoved to get in, they could bust through. And if I’m going to have coke heads and tweakers stopping by in a rage as they come down, that’s not that hard to imagine happening. I’ve stationed golf clubs around the apartment to use to bust some heads if someone comes in, but I doubt my flabby golf club swings will do much to stop a raging meth head.

Just as I was drifting back to sleep, I heard the doorknob turn and someone try to shoulder her way into my apartment again. Then it was quiet. If this happens again, I’m asking to be released from my lease so I can go live somewhere that actually cares about the safety of its tenants.

Real quick, Arizona. Really? I agree that something needs to be done about illegal immigrants, especially down there (I’ve been there, I’ve seen it, it’s not pretty). But giving cops the license to harass anyone who doesn’t look like they just came back from the local KKK meeting is not the way to do it. Cops are terrible people. The last thing these power tripping megalomaniacs needs is license to discriminate against anyone they want to without any cause other than “suspicious behavior.”

Here's the Avett Brothers setlist from last Tuesday. Solid. And, it was almost completely different from the last time I saw them, which is cool. A lot of bands kind of have the set songs from their old albums that they play, but it seems like these guys switch it up a good amount. I Killed Sally's Lover rocked. I could have done without Yardsale or Bella Donna, and replaced them with two better songs from the Gleams, but whatever.

A CAROLINA JUBILEE:
Love Like the Movies
I Killed Sally's Lover

MIGNONETTE:
Swept Away
The New Love Song

FOUR THIEVES GONE:
The Fall (opener)
Colorshow
Denouncing November Blue

THE GLEAM:
Yardsale

EMOTIONALISM:
Shame
Salina

THE SECOND GLEAM:
Bella Donna (encore)

I AND LOVE AND YOU:
I and Love and You
January Wedding
Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise
Kick Drum Heart
Tin Man
Incomplete and Insecure (closer)
Laundry Room (encore and awesome)

They also played two new songs, both of which featured the banjo and no piano! I think they're new, anyway. I have all their albums and I don't have these two songs. They were both really good, so here's hoping there's a little more banjo on this next album.

Let's talk books. It's been a while since we've discussed the topic. I haven't had to read as many novels for my classes this semester, but the books I have had to read have been -- to put it mildly -- atrocious. Abominations. Abhorrent. Maybe a fourth "a" word that's equally as bad. That's how bad they've been.

Okay, so they're not THAT bad, but they're not that good, either. The problem is, coming off the tails of last semester's Nearly Perfect Reading List, the stuff I've had to read this semester pales in comparison. To note:

Frank Norris' The Octopus: The first book assigned this semester, we were supposed to read this 500-something page novel in one week. Yeah, right. It's a turn-of-the-century novel about the railroad companies railroading helpless Californian farmers. Kind of like an early-20th century The Wire. Except, instead of being cool like The Wire, it's just needlessly verbose and super slow. (Though, I guess critics of The Wire would say the same thing.) If Norris had chopped 200 pages from the final draft, I might've liked this one a lot more than I did.

William Faulkner's "The Bear": Yeah, it's Faulkner, and yeah, it's cool, but can a brother get a "What the fuck?" when it comes to that fourth section? I actually thought it was the most interesting part of the story, albeit the most confusing. Still, this is not a story you can read on the subway. Don't try it. You won't understand anything. (Assuming you'll actually comprehend something even under the best reading circumstances.)

Barbara Kingsolver's Prodigal Summer: The setting of this novel is somewhere in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. Thus, I enjoyed the rural/Southern nods to the wilderness or places like Krogers. What I did not enjoy was the plodding pace of the story and the extremely irritating crotchety-old-man character. I know we're not supposed to like him, but Jesus. I just wanted to skip any section he was in, because I knew something he would think or say would piss me off. (I brought this book along with me on my trip to Denver. Two observations: One, I told Adam I wasn't a fan and showed him the cover. He said, "Yeah, I could've told you that." Two, when I ordered the book used online, I happened to get a large-print edition. That's cool, except for the fact that there are lots of sex scenes in the book. This made me feel very uncomfortable reading the book in public -- at the airport, on the plane, on the subway -- when people could easily glance over and read the 89-point font.)

Barbara Gowdy's The White Bone: This was the breaking point for me. I couldn't stand this book. One of the most frustrating things I've ever had to read in my life. I felt that every minute I spent reading this book was a minute I could've better spent doing anything else. Here's the deal: I think Gowdy has an interesting idea here -- telling a story from the point-of-view of a pack of African elephants. Cool. Unfortunately, this idea gets completely marred through its execution. There are WAY too many characters, all with bizarre names that make it incredibly hard to picture/differentiate one from another. Gowdy creates a pseudo-elephant language that requires the use of a six-page glossary. And, to me, anyway, it's just NOT THAT INTERESTING. Look, I'm not a fan of harvesting elephant tusks for ivory. That's fucked up. I don't need to read a novel from the point-of-view of elephants to know that. Nor do I need to read a novel from the point-of-view of elephants to know that they are intelligent, loyal creatures with their own kinship and customs. They're elephants -- they're fucking awesome. So it's a cool idea, I just don't quite see the utility in it, I suppose. (Edit: I just wanted to include a lovely excerpt from the novel to give you a sense of what it's like: "As he hurried along, his engorged penis bumped splashing on the ground... 'I am the biggest bull,' he murmured. She did not move. 'You are as fat as a water-boulder...'")

I have one more novel to go for this class -- Octavia Butler's Dawn. It's Sci-Fi, not my favorite genre in the world. I'm only 40 pages in, but so far it's been all right. The best book yet. But maybe that's because it's coming right after one of the most frustrating reading experiences I've ever had in my life. We'll see how it pans out.

To keep my sanity, I've been doing fun reading on the side: I'm re-reading Amy Hempel's Collected Stories; my sister got me an awesome book called Who Would Win?, one of those party-books to spark discussion; I also found a cheap used copy of The Complete Calvin and Hobbes, so I'm re-reading those comics. Thank god for good writing.

Record Store Day is like my own personal Christmas, except I buy myself presents, and the only fat guy in funny clothes is me. For those of you who don't know (which knowing the readership of this thing is no one), Record Store Day is that one magical day a year when bands put out super limited releases that are only available in independent record stores. So basically, it's for huge nerds to make themselves feel good about owning rare music in these precious few years we have left before the only way to buy music is online at iTunes.

Record Store Day was this past Saturday, and I was in Detroit, so I had Des pick me up some things. For CD's, I got a couple live albums from Manchester Orchestra and RX Bandits, and Weezer's "Raditude...Happy Record Store Day," which at five songs long (a song featuring Kenny G, a song featuring Sara Bareilles, a Green Day cover, an acoustic Buddy Holly, and a live Pinkerton song) is infinitely better than the actual Raditude. Then I got a John Lennon singles bag, which features better packaging than music, a 7" where Bon Iver and Peter Gabriel cover a song of each other's, a cool little two song Ted Leo 7" with two unreleased B-sides from the new album, a live Jimi Hendrix album, and a 7" from Against Me! that features an acoustic version of I Was a Teenage Anarchist that makes me think this new album is going to be very very polished and hook-heavy.

The best and most interesting release I got was The Mountain Goats DVD version of The Life of the World to Come. The CD was on my top 10 albums list last year, and this DVD features just John on the piano or guitar and playing the album in the auditorium of the school that he went to as a kid. It's a really cool idea, and the packaging is great, featuring a paragraph by John describing each song. During the song Matthew 25:21, one of the most emotionally devastating songs I've ever heard, his voice cracks with tears at the end, and it's really something special.

I think iTunes and the internet have killed music buying. You can get anything you want with a click of the mouse from basically any band. There's a special place in my memory for the years I spent hunting out the music that I found myself liking. I used to hunt out compilation CDs and find bands that I liked, then send off mailorder cards to the label with a money order, then waiting three weeks and finding a package filled with CDs.

I don't think I can explain it, but I can remember the feel of the packaging, the smell when I ripped it open, the sight of those CDs filling it up. I liked the stamp in the corner that told me that someone at this little record label personally filled this thing up with the music I wanted, stamped it, and wrote my name on it with a Sharpie. I felt a connection to music then. The search for new bands was exciting and difficult. The music was sent from a label that really cared - sometimes I would get a note thanking me for checking them out. Now I get on Lala and listen to everything in the world, then get on Amazon, buy whatever I want, and a week later get that standard Amazon box. It's much easier, but it's not the same. I honestly don't think kids from now on will be able to feel the connection that I felt back then to the music. Back then you really had to try to be into music that isn't popular. Now you just have to like the clothes.

Happy Birthday to Brian! Brian Kim was born in a small village on the outskirts of Kiltimagh, Ireland on this day back in 1941. He worked with his 14 siblings on a goat ranch growing up, and was named Miss Goat Ranch Kiltimagh in 1957. He was an accomplished goat cheeser and left Ireland for the US in 1959. He learned to speak real English at the Saint Mary's School for the Blind, and subsequently became a Buddhist monk. He lived in silence and secrecy and celibacy (not by choice) until 1988, when he met me and his life changed forever. Now Mr. Kim is a New Yorker, and his sour demeanor and giant middle finger have helped him become one of New York's most prominent graduate students. Let's all wish Mr. Miss Goat Ranch Kiltimagh 1957 Brian Kim a Happy Birthday!

I saw Lucero the other day. I think I might have seen them too much too fast, since Cam and I just went and saw them a couple months ago when they were here. And that show was better. This one the sound was just muddy. Still good though. Shooter Jennings' band Heirophant was first and they were okay for like 30 minutes, but they played for 90 FUCKING MINUTES! Opening bands, please note: You should shoot for 30 minutes. If you're a well known band, you can get away with 45. But nobody paid to see you play an hour and a half set, so don't waste our time. We put up with opening bands. We really want to see Lucero. Lucero played a very solid setlist, which included these songs:

ATTIC TAPES + BONUS STUFF
-Kiss the Bottle

LUCERO
-Drink Till We're Gone
-All Sewn Up (closer, as always)
-Wasted
-It Gets the Worst at Night (awesome, don't know if I've seen them do this one before)

TENNESSEE
-Sweet Little Thing (awesome)
-Slow Dancing (awesome)
-Nights Like These (awesome... I love this album)
-I'll Just Fall (awesome)

THAT MUCH FURTHER WEST
-That Much Further West
-Joining the Army
-Tears Don't Matter Much

NOBODY'S DARLINGS
-Bikeriders
-Sixteen
-Hold Me Close
-Last Night In Town
-The War

REBELS, ROGUES, AND SWORN BROTHERS
-What Else Would You Have Me Be?
-I Can Get Us Out of Here

1372 OVERTON PARK
-Smoke
-Sounds of the City (opener, for the second time in a row)
-Can't Feel a Thing
-The Devil and Maggie Chascarillo
-Sixes and Sevens
-Goodbye Again
-Darken My Door
-Mom

BEN SOLO
-The Last Pale Light in the West
-Some song about Colorado I've never heard before

While there are songs that I wish they would have played again (Chain Link Fence, My Best Girl, What Are You Willing to Lose? [which for some reason they haven't played either time I've seen them touring on this album], etc), it's hard to argue with that setlist. A ton of songs, representing every album, and really no songs that I don't particularly like. If only the sound in the Bluebird had been as good as the last time I saw them.

Bob McDonnell, local asshat and Virginia's governor, recently named April as Confederate History Month. Now, okay. The Civil War is an incredibly important time in America's history. Probably the most important time. (I can say that since I'm not an historian.) The South was upset that the North was interfering with its (fucked-up) system of economics. Something happened at Fort Sumter, Abe Lincoln gave the Emancipation Proclamation (which didn't actually free slaves, remember!), and some other stuff happened. (Again, not an historian.) In the end, the Reconstruction South was a mess, but things changed. Kind of, sort of. Took a hundred years -- and even then things weren't perfect -- but the Civil War is an amazing story of the Confederacy rebelling from the rest of the country, losing, re-unifying with the nation, and a whole group of people who didn't possess any human rights suddenly becoming free, autonomous individuals. It's a serious "America, fuck yeah!" moment.

But that's the Civil War. Not the Confederacy. Regardless of what else they stand for, the Confederacy will always - always - be tied to slavery. The Confederate States of America were all about the right to own slaves. And they wanted so badly to maintain the institution of slavery that they declared war against their own country. But they lost. And if you're at the losing-end of a war, you don't really get to act all nostalgic about it later. It's like the Japanese getting sentimental about World War II. It doesn't work that way.

So my question to Bob McDonnell is: Why "Confederate History Month"? Why not "Civil War History Month"? (Aside from the more awkward-sounding name, that is.) Let's talk about the Civil War. Let's talk about oppression and slavery and racism and how the South lost and had to revoke all of those fucked-up systems. Let's talk about a dissenting group of Americans who felt the rest of the country was running wild under a tyrannical leader, rose up, and lost. Let's especially talk about the losing part.

(On a related note, does anyone find people from the South who are way into the Confederacy kind of off-putting? The people with the Confederate flag bumper stickers? I mean, you don't see people from the North with bumper stickers of Union flags. And they won.)

Bristol Palin's at it again. She's encouraging teens to not have sex until they're married. Look, forget about how obviously retarded and ineffective abstinence is. Think of all the things your parents told you not to do. How many of those things did you not do? I mean sure, I never tried cocaine or heroin, but in general, parents telling kids not to do something is as effective as the rhythm method of birth control. Which is to say, not effective.

What I'm sick of, and I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this before, is people who get caught doing something bad then going and telling other people not to do that. Bristol Palin only wants kids to not have sex because she got caught having sex by getting pregnant. This is like Tiger Woods telling people not to cheat on their wives, or Mel Gibson telling people that drinking is dangerous, or Jesse James telling people it wouldn't be a good idea to be a tattoo-model banging, sex addicted neo-Nazi.

If Bristol Palin had a brain in her head instead of in her vagina, she would have been on birth control or using condoms or an IUD or any of the other hundred incredibly easy ways to not get pregnant. Then she could have been fucking her 17 year old brains out with her boyfriend and enjoying every wonderful second of it with absolutely no consequences. If that had happened, she would not have all of a sudden come to the realization that teenagers shouldn't have sex. Just like if Gibson, Woods, or James hadn't gotten caught doing their horrible things, they wouldn't have gone to rehab. Sure, Tiger Woods has a mistress in every state, but he's not addicted to sex until someone catches him. Same with all these other famous people.

Bottom line: Sex is fun. Everyone should do it. As much as possible. Safely. It's not that hard. That's what she said. Nobody should listen to anything Bristol Palin says because she's an idiot and her baby is named Trigg. If she has more kids in the future, she should name them Calc and Algebra.

Also, Sarah Palin is super lame. She used that failed vice presidential bid to become a celebrity. Wait a minute... doesn't she have like 8 kids? Does anyone else see a Sarah Palin and whatever her weird secessionist husband's name is Plus 8 coming out any time soon? Maybe a Dancing With the Stars turn next season? I personally can't wait until a few years down the road when she's on Celebrity Rehab trying to recover from her gay hooker meth addiction.

I thought that making something illegal completely prevented that something from ever happening. But it is illegal for priests to molest boys, but it seems like it happens quite a bit. Which begs the question: Why are gay pedophiles attracted to the priesthood? Strangely, I haven’t heard this question asked in the lame stream media. Instead, people are asking “Why don’t we let priests get married?” Now, I haven’t done any research to back this up, but why would the ability to get married make gay pedophiles stop molesting children? I mean, gay pedophiles outside of the church are free to marry (as long as they marry women, which I’m pretty sure is what the priest marriage folks are suggesting, not that gay marriage that would undermine the family unit and harm children), but they still molest kids.

Follow me here. You’re a heterosexual man or woman. You want to marry a person of the opposite sex. But alas, opposite sex marriage is illegal. So, do you A)have secret sex with adult people of the opposite sex, or B)molest kids? If you said B, please send me all your contact information so I can turn it into the police.

Second question. Smoking weed is illegal, but you want to try it, or you’ve tried it and like it. You want to get some more. Do you A)get some illegally, or B)molest kids?

I guess my point is, I don’t see the correlation between priests not being allowed to get married and their proclivities towards molesting boys. I think instead of having a debate about whether they should get married, we should have a debate about not letting gay pedophiles be priests. Maybe if the church one day decides that women have more right to be priests than gay pedophiles, we can kind of replace them. I would suggest an entrance exam for priesthood. Maybe “On a scale of 1 to 10, how much would you rather be molesting a little boy right now?” Then maybe replace the men who answer with a 5 or above with a woman who answers a 0. I mean I know women aren’t technically “real” people, but a non-child molester woman would at least be better for the church’s image than a gay pedophile, right?

I also heard that the Pope helped cover this up, but he won’t be going to testify about any of this because he’s a “head of state.” Man, who knew that a gay-pedophile-enabling Nazi youth would one day be the most powerful man in one of the world’s most powerful religions. It’s amazing what terrible people can become if they just put their minds to it. Religion is fun.