Don't worry, kids. You didn't miss much. The last 1/3 of the Ought Six saw me doing little more than what you probably already suspected: Abusing coffee, tinkering with bikes, accumulating books, smooching a certain redhead (who has since bid the District farewell), and losing myself somewhere between my trademark procrastination and my newfound status as Business-Owner. A bit of spiritual housecleaning has allowed me to love a few people a bit more, and opened the door to possibly throwing a bit of that in my own direction one day. But beyond all that, my neglect of this vehicle has likely left very little unsaid. These things ebb and flow.
I've been working on a few bits of writing, with a bit more density, which will eventually turn up here. But I'm taking my time, and -- quite frankly -- my confidence with regard to all things traditionally creative was on its way out the window most of '05. So, it may not be a particularly speedy process.
A few random observations from '07 (thus far):
*The opening track of the new Damien Rice record is positively chilling. If you're going to steal the melody to What if God Was One of Us?, this is exactly what you should do with it (the fourth song ain't bad, either).
*Marina Sitrin's work on Horizontalism is finally available in English, and it just as easily could've been subtitled Badass as We Wanna Be.
*I've been living on the west end of the Hill the last week, dogsitting in an apartment just behind the Hart Senate Building. This means walking a dog in the general vicinity 3-4 times a day, frequenting the coffeehouses in the area, etc. Anyone who knows the neighborhood can picture the demographics; we're talking Securities and Exchange Commission, Federal Judiciary, Republican National Committee, Heritage Foundation... And all the types that work in or in conjunction with said establishments. Judging by my (mind you, brief) interactions with women during my meanderings there, you'd think it'd been months since they encountered a gent who wasn't a complete and utter douchebag. Cue Trial's anthem, "Are These Our Lives?"
*Sticky Fingers, since their big move to Columbia Heights, has managed to produce the finest soy chai on the planet. No diggity.
*Seager's into ponies.
