8 August 2004

(something clever about doors)

I don't like to fail.

I mean, nobody does, but still it bugs me, a lot.

Today's failure was in trying to install a screen door. The one we have now sticks and doesn't close very smoothly. Moreover the plastic clips that hold the glass or screen in break easily.

So when our neighbor offered us a brand new screen door, we mulled it over and took it.

Oh, the humanity! Of course I measured it first, and it seemed like it would fit.

Well, the door's about 3/8" smaller than the existing one. That in itself probably isn't a problem, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

The side "Z-bars" are too tall for my opening, so I needed a hacksaw to trim them down. Scott said he had one, and he happened to be dropping by today to pick up a pair of two-person passes to a screening of Princess diaries II: Electric boogaloo that Jessica and I managed to score at a recent neighborhood picnic.

I expect a full report, Scott. And sorry, Carina for borrowing Andrew Bird for so long.

Andrew Bird, for the uninitiated, is a really cool D-I-Y musician who does it all himself. The album was well-put-together but I guess I missed out on the whole bit of his live show.

Enter the newly-expanded Internet Archive, with its audio stuff. Check out IA's collection of his shows. It's worth checking out.

Myself, I'm digging the M. Doughty stuff.

But back to the door stuff. I cut the frame to fit, with a Meijer hacksaw, and still just couldn't get things working. I spent another half hour reinstalling the old door, and then vegged out for the rest of the evening playing Burnout on the PS2. The game's pretty fun, especially for five bucks.

It sure beats reinstalling a stupid door.

12 July 2004

these headphones were made for walkin'

There are times in a man's life where that man's gotta do what that man's gotta do. And this man needed to take a DVD back to the library tonight.

Being my father's son, I grabbed three CDs to which to listen on my half-hour trek to the local branch and back. I say I'm "my father's son" not just to be pedantic but because he will assemble a collection of some ten times the runtime of music for all but the shortest car trips. He's got some thousand tapes and several hundred CDs, though, so he can get away with that sort of thing.

Me, I've got no tapes, six hundred CDs that are all still packed away and a handful from the library at any given time. So I grabbed the latest disc by Filter, something else and the soundtrack for Kill Bill, volume 1.

I was groovin' away for just about the whole trip to the library, thinking that Quentin had done another spot-on job of picking great tunes. Say what you will about what he puts on film, but his music tastes run sweet and deep. It was great walking music, even with the brief downpour and ensuing humidity.

It is a great soundtrack, up until the disco/mariachi rendition of "Don't let me be misunderstood". About halfway through that song everything turned sour and I didn't find anything else worth hearing thereafter. I spent the little bit of time remaining on my return journey scanning through the first several tracks again, having decided that the effort of opening my pocket and switching CDs was just too much to bear. There's a lesson to be learned there somewhere but damned if I know what it is.

31 March 2004

blues explosion

Well, I'm off to check out my co-worker John's band, Soul Satyr, at some blues club a couple miles away. This will give me time to practice my new non-chugging beer-drinking technique.

6 February 2004

... your rock 'n' roll t-shirt/that proves you were there/that you heard of them first ...

I can't really pin down the reason why it bothers me to hear Gary Jules's cover of "Mad world" by Tears for fears on the radio. Having heard that song at the end of Donnie Darko many years ago it's not particularly new to me, but when I hear other, older music (such as Bush) I generally don't grate my teeth. The distinction may lie in who is prompting this new airplay. Evidently some sort of Gary Jules fever is spreading across the nation and the big record labels are preparing to release an album of Gary's own songs, and they're hyping the album up with the replayed cover. Or something like that.

At least they didn't have him show off his tit, I guess.

But again, I liked the song a long time ago. I still like it, but that diminishes with every time I hear it on the radio. Dammit.