I really need to start boxing up stuff (including this here computer) for Tuesday’s move, but I also really need to make a dump. A linkdump, you scatological bastards.
But being a man given to undue verbosity, I feel compelled to expound on each link.
This weekend, I crossed the digital T’s on my Seven Days article about the death of the compact disc. Today, I found a first-person account of a fella who, having converted his CDs to MP3s, sold his entire collection to the local record shop. This economically savvy move made him a pariah at the selfsame store. Well, for a couple of days, anyway. The piece was published in a Halifax, Nova Scotia paper. Who knew they even had iPods up there?
Maybe we should just give these goddamn reunions a rest.
Speaking of: I’m a huge and motherfuckin’ unapologetic Jane’s Addiction fan, but I never supported their so-called reunion(s). Nor am I down with down Perry Farrell‘s new act, Satellite Party. I only bring it up ’cause the latter have a crappy new album with even crappier cover art. This from the dude who created a life-size, paper mache sculpture of a mystical ménage à trois for his band’s second album. You know, after the one with the flame-headed, nude Siamese twins.
We’ve been slacking on the metaphysics lately. Are you hip to the noosphere? Did you know that Princeton University aided the Global Consciousness Project in analyzing the planet’s psychic response to 9/11? The results are pretty interesting.
Wow. That’s a lot of links. OK — off to pack.