Lies all mixed up with omissions, aw welcome home againIt's too late for apologies, they're fallin at my feet. Just the way of the world Joe said.

My name is Joe and I am an i-Tunes-aholic.

(Hi, Joe!)

I am addicted to I-tunes. Serial. Being too inept and impatient to wade through the illegal downloading process, I turned to i-Tunes.

A few quick hits- The Scissor Sisters are an absolute howl. I don't really know how to describe them, other than that they are deliciously catchy. They twist up Comfortably Numb until it sounds like Pink Floyd, fronted by Barry Gibb on coke, performing at Studio 54. Genius. There is a party in my pants, and I am pretty sure the Scissor Sisters are throwing it.

Pound for pound, Iggy Pop kicks more ass than anyone out there. But you already knew that.

Free Ride, by Edgar Winter never gets old. I feel like I am riding in the back of a '79 Camaro to a keg party out in a field somewhere. And that party is going to rock.

Interpol sounds kind of like the art school boyfriend of Radiohead's self-consciously cool cousin who shows up to Thanksgiving dinner high on painkillers, with mascara and black hair, doesn't say much, and then when he leaves, just hands you a disc of music that is pretty damn good, and might help you get closer to that hip, cool girl in your art class. You know that guy, right?

(To clarify, I like the Interpol. I'm sure they're good kids.)

The Kings of Leon are the dudes driving the '79 Camaro to the party and blasting "Free Ride." They also have really good weed.

My Bloody Valentine- Loveless. It's a classic. I think Garbage copped a lot of their sound from this band. I also am pretty sure they gave the painkillers to Interpol.
===

Can Donald Driver catch a fucking pass? Please? It is going to be a long goddamn season.

Go Trojans.

You say it's your birthday. It's my birthday, too, yeah. They say its your birthday. We're gonna have good time.

So this was what I woke up to on Sunday morning:



While India recoiled in horror, and pulled the sheets over her head, I rejoiced. Sure, it melted off in the afternoon, but damn. Of course, I went to the Big Sky webcam, and downloaded a picture to see what was happening up there.



It is looking ominous... And it is raining here this morning, whcih bodes well for more snow at elevation. Move over hiking season, snowboarding is on its way.

I did have a little sad news on that front. My childhood friend, Bells, will be stationed in Nevada and New Mexico for much of the winter, so he only bought a ten day pass. He's got a week off in December and a couple weeks in January, so we will get some riding in. Too bad, though. Looks like I will be flying solo on some Big Sky missions this winter. I will try to remember the rules of engagement: stay low, secure the perimeter, keep my shit wired tight at all times, lay down a suppressing fire before charging in to new ground, and when I get to checkpoint Delta, pop smoke and wait for extraction.

P. sent me some discs, which was awfully nice... Thanks! And my dad sent me an i-Tunes gift certificate, which I used to download some My Bloody Valentine, Interpol and the first Kings of Leon disc.

Since we moved, I have had more solitary time than ever before in my life, which was previously filled to overflowing with social engagements, meetings, and a very busy schedule. Surprisingly, though, the new solitude doesn't feel at all like emptiness, but more like... open space. I have been enjoying individual pursuits- music, both playing and listening, reading, running- and have been enjoying more one-on-one time with India than we have ever had before. That has been sweet.

It is kind of nice to get off the hamster wheel, and once your head stops spinning, look around and say, "Wow. You mean I don't have to run that hard to stay in one place? And... shocks, pegs?... lucky!'

And before I go take my sledgehammer off some sweet jumps, let me make a comment about dogs. Faithful. Unconditionally loving. Unbelievably disgusting.

It is great. I love these guys like they were my children. There's nothing like a big, happy greeting when you walk in the door...He's back!!! He's back!!! Got anything to eat? (You could have been gone ten hours or ten minutes; they don't know the difference, and the greeting is the same.)

He's back!!! Yay!!! I wonder if I could eat that and puke it up later.

Dogs can't talk, so sometimes you don't know what they have been up to while you were gone.

But sometimes they don't need to talk for you to know what they were up to...



That white stuff on Barney's nose is crusted kitty litter.

Yeah.

And you wonder why their breath stinks?

He roots around in the litter box like it is a wondrous cookie jar, filled with delightful little tootsie rolls of feline goodness. Hakuna Matada.

Then they go and do something like this...


Later gators.

36.

Damn.