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Rilo Kiley's Jenny Lewis:
We'll always have Bottom of the Hill
(Photo: Steven Dewall)

I hate the spring. The weather's nice and all--and where I live, it will only last another couple weeks before the heat becomes unbearable--but it's all the other things about spring that drive me crazy. The flowery smells, the increased libido and all the god damn insects.

(I was already confronted by the season's first house spider. I saw it drop into my bedroom doorway this very evening, and it took my breath away. I'm scared shitless of spiders. I don't think my form of arachnophobia is as acute as others, but when one is that close to my fortress of solitude, I go full-on bonkers. I don't want to have to kill the poor thing just because the mere sight of one will drive me to insanity, but, unfortunately, I require sleep for my own well-being, and I can't sleep if I think one of those things has free reign in my room. Therefore, it's a matter of self-preservation, and I don't feel so bad about thwacking one into oblivion with my spider-killing shoe. At least that's how I rationalize it to myself. Today's spider met his end by the sole of the shoe.

Actually, I'm not sure if he did or not. I know I thwacked him, but I could not find a carcass. Nevertheless, if he does still live, I hope that I sent the proper message: Stay out of my way, or else.)

Still, spring has its rewards. The women in this town seem to shed clothes at the first sign of strong sun, and the weather has been slightly above room temperature for the past five to six days. Today was the first day I was able to enjoy it, though, as work has kept me indoors and plugged fast into the Matrix.

My two weeks of unbelievable stress came to an abrupt and welcome halt today. Work was wonderful and relaxed and I got a lot done; therefore I'm happy. I got out of the office while the sun was still up, and that's the first time that has happened since, well, I don't remember. I rewarded myself by taking a $30 gift certificate down to a local record store and purchasing some CDs.

I got a used copy of Sonic Youth's A Thousand Leaves, a used copy of Being John Malkovitch on DVD and Rilo Kiley's More Adventurous brand new. All three only cost me $2.15. Rock.

I've had a promo copy of More Adventurous for months; I think since last fall, but it was all protected so I couldn't put on file sharing programs. I don't have any file sharing programs, mind you, but it was protected regardless. The protection was so vigorous, that I couldn't even listen to it in my stereo because it's mp3 compatible. Still, it's pretty much perfect, and it hurt that I haven't been able to listen to it in months (I take music a bit too seriously).

It irks me how much two former child actors are able to pull at my heart strings; it's all so simple, cheesy and sentimental. Still, it turns me into a howling mess every time I listen to the damn thing. It's the kind of music I sing along to even though I don't really know the lyrics and have to make sounds that aren't really words but could be mistaken for words if you aren't really paying attention. (Don't pay attention. It's embarassing.) I know better than to operate this album under the influence of alcohol, but here I am, at 2:34 in the morning, polishing off my last bottle of MGD...and the "Absence of God" is playing for the fourth time this evening. And I really hate spring.