First off, thanks to everyone who left a comment, or emailed. I really appreciate the good words, and was kinda flattered by all of it. A name and location was all I was expecting, and man, the badasses I’ve met over the years always come through. Good shit. Really.

The “900 mark” just sorta fascinates me, just like the “800 mark” a couple months back. But then again, we count cracks in the sidewalk when walking, and fucked-up shit like that. 1000 will be kick-ass, we promise.

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Yep: Fans of those goddamned motherfuckin’ Flaming Lips, this little chat is worth a listen. Jim Derogatis talks with a bunch of fellas about his experience writing his new book about the Lips. Some interesting stuff, from a reporter/fan/friend who’s been on the inside of the Lips’ creative process, touring machine and mindblowing psyche. Required listening.

Rightclick this, man.

“Eleven albums into their career, and you are still trying to figure them out.”

Indeed.

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Saw some Greenhornes downtown tonight with friends. The drummer was fuckin’ great. Loud and young and beautiful. I dug it.

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Had a good lunch with Public Relations mastermind S. Murdoch yesterday up in St. Johns. Dragged the G-Unit along for the deal. When meeting new folks, ol’ Gary isn’t really the smoothest in the “greeting” part of the transaction. But, for whatever reason, he didn’t bark one bit this time. I was blown away, so ready to be gigantically embarrassed and mortified and flustered and all that. The barking alone is the harshest uncontrollable variable involving the little man. Phew.

St. Johns has a good grit to it. The drive out along Columbia was great. Some great type and great rotting and some amazing old buildings and what not. Worth a drive. Bring a camera.

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Speaking of Gary, Here’s one of Fink and Gary from a couple weekends back. Central Oregon’s finest.

Fink, you sonofabitch, come back soon.