71 minutes, 56 seconds

Noise Unit
Decoder

So starting with today's post, I've decided to change how I approach writing this blog. I'm still going to list out everything I listen to on a given day, but the focus of the content will no longer be music. At least not exclusively.

I guess after about a month of doing this, I was getting bored, and readership wasn't exactly skyrocketing. (It's been more like slithering close to the ground...) So I'm more interested now in writing about whatever I want to write about on a given day. With apologies to Lesley Gore, it's my blog, and I'll blather on and on if I want to.

So what will I write about, exactly? I'm not sure. I might comment on things I find interesting and funny. I might carp on things I find annoying and distasteful. I might get personal. I might link to places far and wide. I might be boring. I might be thrilling. I might be both in the same post.

Anyway, it's early on a Saturday morning as I write this, and I'm still sleepy from the alcohol-fueled (yet still dull) dinner party I attended last night. One of my wife's coworkers hosted, and about 15 people, mostly people who work at my wife's museum and their significant others, crowded around a large table piled high with crab, salad, and bread, listening to one "charismatic" guy (a visiting curator from a museum in San Francisco) pontificate about everything from how "brave" it is to live on the West Coast to who the hot new Bay Area artists are.

I was listening to him (you couldn't not), but half my attention was focused on cracking crab legs and getting at the meat inside.

And surreptitiously smelling my fingers.

Crab leaves an odd smell--it's pleasant and repulsive at the same time. Only last night the crab smelled sort of stale, as though it had been left out in the fridge too long and absorbed the odors of all the other stale food the hosts keep in there. Wet newspaper, in fact, is what the aroma called to mind. Of course, that didn't stop me from doggedly working my way through a good six or eight crab legs before being disgusted by myself and calling it quits.

As of this morning, despite several hand-washings, my fingers still smell faintly of wet newspaper. I'm not hungry for breakfast.

Also today:

71:54 Die Form, L'Âme Électrique
71:53 Laibach, Krst Pod Triglavom--Baptism
New arrival! 74:38 Synta[xe]rror, Final