I had a dream last night that I was wait­ing for a bus on Mass Ave. in the dead of win­ter. I had my face buried in my scarf, and wind was whip­ping into the gaps at the ends of my sleeves. My shoul­ders were hunched, all my mus­cles were tensed. It was pitch dark at 6 in the after­noon, and the snow on the ground was orange with street light. I thought, “Jesus christ, wasn’t it sum­mer, like, yes­ter­day? I was stand­ing here in a t-shirt.”

It got up to like 82 today, and is sup­posed to climb to 91 on Wednes­day. I think what this means is that I have to:

1. go to Magic Night this week
2. ride/walk around while I can

I thought that was going to be a more exten­sive list. I’d like to go to the beach but I think the oppor­tu­nity to sweat at the beach has expired. I mean fall’s great, really great, but that dream scared me.

This Thurs­day at TT’s are The Lady­bug Tran­sis­tor and The fuck­ing Luck­smiths. If that has sold out already I’m gonna be pissed off.

News flash: The new múm album sucks.