God, it’s hot.
I’m supposed to be working on an album in my “spare time,” but my second floor apartment gets 10 degrees hotter everytime I fire up that big ‘ol G5.
Tried to get an air conditioner yesterday, but no luck. Stores sell out of them in June, and don’t re-stock, because they don’t want to be stuck with them all winter. It’s bullshit. “We can order one.” Yeah, so could I. I have the inter-web, too. Whatever happened to good old fashioned supply and demand? The modern American economy is driven by inflating desire for the latest product, and manufacturers don’t want to be hocking last year’s version next season. It’s the same with automobiles.
Alright, enough ranting. Saw Manifest Nexto Me and Carrigan last night. ‘Twas good. Packed house at Metronome. Manifest are getting really pro. I’m digging them more and more each time I see them. The audiences were a bit different for each band, though. Indie-rock kids for Carrigan (a lot of ’em) and a sort of college-townie-crunchie crew for Manifest. Very little overlap.
But it’s still quite encouraging to see these local shows do so well. I am sad that I missed The Middle Eight, who were playing downstairs at Nectar’s. Oh, well. Next time.
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