riding on city buses for a hobby is fine

Yesterday I took the bus in LA for the very first time. It was, like, pretty cool.



It was the most fun I've ever had on a bus, with Michael, shopping, eating potato pancakes, and not getting sick.

At first,

I thought Lykke Li's voice sounded deeper on her new album because she didn't like her little voice anymore. In an interview in Filter she said something about wishing she sounded different so people would take her more seriously, and I understood but still didn't like her new voice. But then I listened to Wounded Rhymes in my car yesterday and I realized that it's still the same Lykke Li I love. The first time I listened to it was in my house on my dj station, and I didn't know that Boots had messed with the pitch and that's why she sounded different. That kid!

What's next? We all die?

I feel guilty for all the small stuff I worry about, for liking my new job, for sitting in my house with all my nice things while people in Japan have lost their homes and families, everything. I can't think about Egypt and Libya and Japan all at the same time, and what about the people in Haiti who are still living in tents? I don't believe in luck, but Providence, so I can't say I feel "lucky" to live in LA, where the worst natural disaster I've encountered was the Northridge earthquake in 1994 that made a picture frame on my wall go crooked, but I do feel bad, helpless, overwhelmed, and like more is coming.

Jealousy is more than a word, now I understand.

I'm feeling very Good Country People-esque today, plus or minus a few details. All I need is a prosthetic leg.