Why the fuck do I constantly exploit music as the only thing I'm good at? It's sickening. As proof of a family friend who I am going to name check, Bradley, having good music taste doesn't make you a good person.

And yet I continue to be a jerk with no self-esteem who judges people on wither or not they've heard of the residents or Brian Eno or it they've had an emotional experience at a show. I don't have any hobbies, it all relates back to music, and anything long lasting that gives me pleasure has to do with music or Neko Case laying down naked on a bear-skin rug while Liz Phair stands in the doorway to my lakeside mansion in her underwear, asking me where I keep the whipped cream in my fridge.

Maybe I'll just stop at that image.