It’s shaping up to be a lazy summer Monday. I’m done with the writing gig I’ve alluded to here recently. Despite dearly missing my regular afternoon naps, I’m happy to have taken the job. Some friends were made, or at the very least worthy Trivia Tower adversaries. I got a minor fixation on the busty blonde who worked in the office across the way. I learned about the true power of the midi. It was good times.

But, fuck, it’s good to be back home again.

A friend and I went to see Mission of Burma on Friday at Warsaw. Seminal, sure, and beloved by rock snobs, but why isn’t this band more popular with a certain set — the same set who loves The Jam and The Pixies and Yo La Tengo and Sonic Youth? Not only was the show not sold out, but it would have been a snap to get right up to the stage — not that I would have subjected my companion to that. But even from our isolated rearward vantage point, it was one of the better shows I’ve seen in the past year, topped, probably, only by last summer’s Dinosaur Jr reunion show. The two most important criteria for a great show were satisfied: 1) all the “hits” were played, and 2) they were played with tremendous enthusiasm: in this case, the on-stage trio rocked out with abandon, or at least the abandon of three guys in their mid-40s. It is puzzling why you almost never hear anyone talking about a band that’s still this good. At any rate, I highly recommend their new album The Obliterati, just out on Matador. But I even more highly recommend the classics “Academy Fight Song” and “That’s How I Escaped My Certain Fate.” Everyone should have these songs close at hand. You should be ashamed if you do not.

Once again I ran into that total douchebag who represents all of life’s little evils while going for a simple coffee. Jesus, make it stop.