No basement song this week. With the announcement of the Boss touring, I've been listening to "The Rising" and "Darkness" the past several days. If there were 200 or so readers, I would dish out another Springsteen song. Alas, with only twenty people checking out the old thunderbolt, it's just not fair to always talk about his music. So, I'll wait another week.
Besides, it was back to school night and I'm dealing with all of the anxiety that comes with the territory. Coupled with the fact that it is one thousand degrees outside (and we didn't melt, go figure), I just don't have the energy. Lame. I know.
As is customary in the world of the thunderbolt, I'd like to welcome Stacie, a friend from my NOHS days. Way back in 8th grade, I recall her having a crush on me and me, being Scott, I had no frickin' clue what to do about it and I probably listened to some of my idiot friends and blew her off. Did I call my friends idiots? I was an idiot. Anyway, she married a guy who I knew in high school. My last memory of him comes from a sincerely out of control party I threw at my folks house back in '87. That I spent another year with him in high school tells you how much damage I did to my brain cells while attending BGSU. Anyway, she contacted my friend, Cindy, who gave her the blog address and now that I've completely bored the shit out of you, I will end this story.
There is another guy, Steve, who leaves comments every now and then. This is not my best friend, Steve, who visited me last spring. I know this because Steve is constantly complaining that he is computer illiterate. So, Steve #2, whoever you are, drop me an email and I'll add you to the basement song list. If you love getting your email box full of music, I'm your guy.
So, I guess that ends today's entry. I was quite stoked that I walked approximately 100yards out of the house this morning and felt the driving urge to turn around and go write. It has been a long time since that drive has been in me. If you're a writer, this is the greatest feeling. For me, it means some of the fear I carry around with me is lifting and I'm excited about the work again. Someday, when I finish this damn screenplay, I hope to feel this excited about writing that novel I've been threatening to tackle for, oh, six years now. Ah, who am I kidding.
Well, I'm off. I hope to write this weekend. I really want to post a review of "Super Bad", the new Rilo Kiley and Crowded House albums, and talk a little bit about the great television shows I've wasted my time watching this summer. Anything to distract me from the laptop and cystic fibrosis.
One final note. I'm not a super political guy. I don't claim to have the insight like my friends Blake and Steve. Most of the time, I go with my gut. And my gut tells me that two years after Katrina, New Orleans is still trying to get back on her feet. Where is the money promised by the government? Where is the manpower guaranteed to help the rebuilding? This is one of the greatest embarrassments of our government. These people are our brother and sisters. They still need out prayers and help. This weekend, as we hang out on the beach or grill up the dogs and burgers, take a moment to send a good though down south.