Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Fuck it, I like this new White Stripes album. I like this new Coldplay album too. Fuck it.

So Game has restarted his beef with G-Unit. Hey Game! I stopped caring months ago! Dis Yukmouth again! That was funny!

The new Four Tet album opens with this total cheez-techno bassline that could've come from the Crystal Method, and then it dissolves into cymbal splashes and jazzy drum curls and bleeding noise. The whole album is sort of like that. It's like Lightning Bolt if Lightning Bolt was eating Pixie Stix instead of, like, broken glass. It's not my favorite album of the summer so far, but it is the album that sounds the most like summer.

I'm really hoping the Pistons do what the Nuggets should've done to the Spurs in the first round: slap them all around, scream in their faces, scare them out of the building. I want to see Manu Ginobli bleeding from the neck, getting his face slammed into the floor like he was Joe Johnson. (This is the only way the Pistons will win back-to-back championships.) (Also, Tony Parker would painfully remind me of Michel from Gilmore Girls even if he wasn't French.)

If none of the above even makes any sense, it's because I'm moving to New York, and I'm having trouble thinking about any one thing long enough to formulate any sort of coherent opinion about it. You may be hearing from me less frequently over the next month or so, but I still love you.