"do you know what today is?"

My mother died seven years ago today. It was Memorial Day.

When I talked to my dad on the phone this evening, he asked, "Do you know what today is?" As if it's something I'm going to forget. Yeah, very unlikely.

ch-ch-changes / turn and face the strange

L.A. is known as a landscape of rapid change. Sure, it changes, but really no more than anywhere else I've lived. Right? Well, some recent things kind of put this in perspective.

First (well, I'm doing this in reverse order of how this occurred to me, but whatever), I read through some blog links that Sealevel Records is closing at the end of June. This is really distressing. I love their instores. I love the size of the place. I may be the only one, but Amoeba gives me the willies. It's just overwhelming, so I don't like to go there. Now there aren't any independent options.

Next, the Hamburger Hamlet on Hollywood Blvd. closed and soon enough an H&M will be in its place. Why is this a big deal? Especially since I don't even go to Hamburger Hamlet? Because HH only exists in the L.A. and D.C. areas. The first time I came to L.A., about four years ago, long before I ever imagined I'd live here, I took the Metro to Hollywood & Highland 'cause as a tourist you have to go there and see glamorous Hollywood (note: they don't tell Easterners that Hollywood isn't what we think it is...and back then, it was really grungy, really grungy). One of the first things I noticed when I got out of the Metro was the Hamburger Hamlet. Apparently it closed at the beginning of the year (or maybe even earlier), but I hadn't noticed. As a savvy L.A. resident, I never drive that stretch of Hollywood, because it's a surefire traffic jam, thanks to all those clueless tourists. Ah, don't you love how it comes full circle sometimes?

Lastly, and perhaps most personally, on Monday on my drive home I noticed a recently razed lot on Franklin. I looked at it and thought, "Damn, what used to be there?" I looked across the street at the 101 Cafe and realized it was a series of townhouses that had been divided into apartments. I was offered a roommate share in one of them when I first moved here, but I opted for my original place in Silver Lake (still the right decision). It does back onto the 101 freeway, so for my lungs' sake, I really did make the right decision. But damn, had I taken it, I would be homeless. It was just weird. I have no idea when the lot was cleared, but it's probably been more than the two weeks I've now been driving past it on a daily basis. I wonder what's going to go in there. It has a big board boasting of some mixed-used developer. It's not a very big lot. My money's on a depressing strip of Starbucks, Quizno's, and surprise-me-with-another-generic-chain.

C'est la vie.

tales from a master procrastinator

The things I do to procrastinate even amaze me now. I so desperately hate to write that I prolong the task, in the process making it infinitely worse than it has to be, until the absolute last minute. It's as if I can't write anything unless I know it's due in a matter of hours.

This morning I've read (in preparation for writing), but interrupted even that task with washing dishes, preparing potatoes and garlic to roast for lunch, and bleaching my set of four 50-cent IKEA drinking glasses.

Yes, you read that last part correctly...Ms. Undomestic and Proud of It is turning into Martha Stewart as the Ph.D. progresses. My friend Nadereh told me that she bleached her glasses and they looked like new again. Do I really care about such a thing? No, but I horribly stained one of them by drinking earl grey tea in it. Bleach one, bleach 'em all.

And, yes, bleaching works.

r.i.p. noho dq

This evening I spent some time in North Hollywood. Before meeting a friend I was planning to stop at the Dairy Queen, because I couldn't bear the thought of being near it and then not enjoying it! Especially since I complain about how inconvenient they are, and this is the only real DQ I know of in these parts (the rest are ones that share space with Orange Julius in malls).

Well, guess what. I get there and find that DQ is no longer. In its place is one of those damn overpriced yogurt shops. My heart was too broken to even bother giving them a chance, but I have to say they had more interesting flavor choices (including raspberry-pomegranate) than the other places I've seen.

another superdrag lament

Allie may be right. In the Valley of Dying Stars just might be Superdrag's best record. I was partial to Head Trip in Every Key for so long that I sort of burnt out on it. I listen to Last Call for Vitriol a lot in the car, because I taped it for some reason (and not the others!). Oh my god this stuff is so good. Why can't they reform? It's not enough to have John Davis sing about Jesus. It lacks the edge of Superdrag.

But wait, on Tuesday, Superdrag's B-side album, Changing Tires on the Road to Ruin will be available! It's not enough, though. And I think it's either dangerous or a clever marketing technique to have the title so close to Supergrass's recent album Road to Rouen. When I blabber about Superdrag, people are usually like, "Oh yeah, I like Supergrass." So do I, but they're no Superdrag.

"they always come in threes doesn't mean it's the last of these"

That lyric haunts me. Seriously.

It's been a long couple of weeks for me. First, Lenscrafters (don't ever go there; seriously, they are morons) fucked up one of my lenses while adjusting my glasses and wouldn't replace it because I didn't buy it there. Cutting through a long complicated story about my poor vision, three weeks later, my eye issues aren't completely resolved since I don't see properly out of my left lens (the axis is off...it has to do with my astigmatism and the curve of the lens). I have to wait so long to see the same doctor again, and in the process, I'm getting used to this screwed up vision. Ugh. But I know I still don't see properly...let's hope something can actually be done about it.

Next, someone broke into my car to steal my garage opener (while parked in my building's garage noless) and busted the driver-side lock. So for two weeks I had to open the passenger side, crawl in, unlock my door, and then enter properly. That was annoying. A kind neighborhood fixed it for me with a part I bought on ebay. For awhile this was the only thing resolved.

The real icing on the cake came on Sunday when I returned from The TV Set to find my hard drive dead. Totally dead. Ten months old, and dead as a doornail (computer SIDS?). Luckily I backed up about a month ago so I didn't lose anything major since everything else I did of consequence was backed up via web-based email (what a fabulous invention). Since I finally got my computer back this afternoon and spent hours re-setting it up, I have placed an event in my google calendar that reminds me to back the mofo up every Friday night. No more of this crap, please.

Friday is the 13th. Please, don't pull anymore nasty stuff on me. I don't think I can take it.

On the upside, I've secured summer employment. Oh and I think this blog had its two-year anniversary and I didn't buy it a gift. I hope that doesn't come back to haunt me later.