We have entered the flux stage. I am three work days away from not having a job anymore - hire me, New Yorkers! - and we've got our apartment all set up, casting decisions made, Park Slope as Our Hood and DIW Editor Andrew Parks as Our Roomate. After a weekend in Chicago for The Pitchfork Thing, I'll be spending a couple of weeks ineptly putting tape on boxes and trying to find someone to take our shitty furniture or maybe pay me actual money for scratched-up CDs like the Judgement Night soundtrack and the Spawn soundtrack. And I won't be blogging much. Which will, of course, be a momentous change.

Larry Hughes has made the exceedingly sane decision that it's better to play second banana to LeBron James in Cleveland (maybe he can get on a XXL inside cover!) than second banana to Gilbert Arenas in Washington, and all I can say is: fuck.