Yes, I took a picture of my TV.
But damn, I am falling in mad fangirl love with Nez AGAIN.
Nothing says "I am psychologically and emotionally healthy" like spending an hour impulsively and fervently cleaning the bathroom sink and shower.
At 9:30 at night.
A Saturday night.
They're covering "Jumping Jack Flash" now.
It's not good, but it's... it's very "WOO WE'RE A GARAGE BAND WOO." Which has it's own kind of weird goodness.
For a long time I've longed to take a picture of the van parked two or three houses closer to Ferry St than mine. I can't even remember what the name of the band is, but their van says "The [Whatevers] Rock and Roll Band" in those square address letter stickers. I'm pretty sure I can hear them playing or practicing for the first time out my window. It's a nice change from the shrieking of the little girls who live in the house that backs onto ours.
If I were not filthy and unshowered, not to mention desperately in need of doing two take home finals, I would take a walk down the street to investigate further. I'm pretty sure that they're actually getting louder. I also hear other voices that I'd really like to think are an audience. I can't actually comprehend what it is like to play with other people. I've tried with my dad before but that just never works. We're too stylistically different, I think.
Also, I suck at guitar.
Oh, the hell with it! I'm going to go sit out on my balcony and listen for a while and try to read as much of my last Detective novels as possible.
PS: In vague reference to the title, I watched "The Chaparone" and "Art For Monkees' Sake" today. From here on out, I will remain convinced that the scene of Liberace pounding the fuck out of his piano with a golden sledgehammer is a reference to the Who and Pete Townshend's early talk of auto-destructive art.
"You can never be an artist! You have no beard!