I am going public, again, I suppose. My life is too boring to hide behind locked posts anyway.

poule_avion linked to this NY Times article on love and taking literary tastes too seriously. I found it rather amusing, since I used to struggle with not judging people by what books they like to read.

The next batch of photos are sorta Jess-centric, sorry. I'm actually considering not buying the Canon 40D now because it would be financially irresponsible. However, this will leave me camera-less and I'm not sure if I can go on in this world without a SLR. I have a Holga and a Polaroid, but it's just not the same. SADFACE.

Andy is in Amsterdam. I have his hat.


Miles went to Crema with me so we could caffinate and laptop.


He took this icky photo of me, but look at that pretty, green wall behind me!


I had too much Newcastle and Jack Daniels. I'm not sure what Chris' excuse is for that face, though.


I also suck at darts when drunk. Or sober. Their poor wall is probably hole-ridden now.


It needs to stop being so chilly, although I do love my hoodies and arm warmers.


I've been listening to a lot of Jets to Brazil/Jawbreaker lately. This makes me warm and fuzzy inside, but I'm not sure why. Perhaps nostalgia? Nostalgia for when, I'm not sure.

Jets to Brazil's Perfecting Loneliness is a great song and album. The album has been on constant repeat, and I haven't been able to listen to anything else but Black Kids in preparation for seeing them with Cut Copy next month.

Zero to heaven in seven.
A lifetime. A nanosecond.
All the sand in your glass is going by so fast.
The radio is playing our tune.
I love it, could you turn it down?

Trying to proselytize to Chris about Barefoot. Nom nom nom coffees.