{ SOUND THAT I COULD FEEL }

i think justin timberlake is legit. there. i said it.

in fact, i place so much creedence in this belief that i bought his new album last night, FutureSex/LoveSounds at music millenium on 23rd.

a questionable purchase? far from it. a chip in my poorly crafted masculine armour? give me a break. if anything, i am confident this actually validates my status as a comfortably heterosexual male. {transparent rationalization} but let's be honest boys and girls, JT is the hottest thing since double sided tape, and he's probably only going to get better ... as an artist, i mean. for one to suggest otherwise is about as outrageous as a sunny december afternoon in portland.

i typically indulge in these mindless {careless, actually} musical shopping 'sprees' which i find myself subjecting myself to about every month or so. by the end of the experience, i find myself at the store counter with a sizable stack of cd's, half of which i have already stolen from someone through mytunes or a burnt cd but wanted to buy because i like having a true musical 'collection.' {i'm terribly idealistic.} i can safely say this is a relatively healthy indulgence, considering the unmentionable vices {chemical, liquid and otherwise} within arms reach, not to mention my recent work schedule has provided me with a healthy dose of overtime hours and a reasonable amount of expendable income. {see: weekend trip to seattle.}

cd's purchased included;

Justin Timberlake - FutureSex/LoveSounds
Sleater-Kinney - One Beat
M.Ward - Post-War
Tapes 'n Tapes - The Loon
The National - Alligator
TV on the Radio - Return to Cookie Mountain.

i already had The Loon {people at work have taste} but i love the album so much i had to break down and buy the real thing. {i tell people i heard the liner notes were 'cool.'} everything else was a new purchase. my boy sam recommended The National, which so far sounds like Interpol's older, more mature and astute brother ... basically a modern version of the Smiths. {could that comparison be any more obvious?} Sleater-Kinney is quickly moving up my personal charts. I am still a little steamed i wasn't able to see them play their last show here in portland. i guess there's always youtube. everyone is talking about m.ward, plus he's local, and therefore legit. tv on the radio needs no explaination. although i'm a little purturbed that they're playing on letterman. for now, i'll withhold judgement.

in other news, my work life is about to {briefly} return to a temporary state of normalcy. as i speak our design 'team' is in denver showing off our proposal. last night was the first night in over two weeks that i was in bed before two in the morning. i am in no way complaining about this, simply because relative to the rest of my 'team,' i have nothing to complain about.

* first of all, i was basically getting paid to be in studio, which is basically what we all went to school for anyway.
* second of all, the members of my 'team' have families. they have to adhere to a level of responsibility that i have no real concept of. they have daughters who need help with homework, sons who need rides to football practice, and wives who need their attention. one of the guys has five kids ... five. i think the oldest is ten years old. another just got married last month. another has a teenage daughter who is on a travelling soccer team. i have a stack of cds and a twenty year old television that doesn't go any higher than channel 39.

this is déjà vu in a sense; after having a fifth year studio with guys like gabe mckee and todd bundren ... they were married, in college, and had newborn babies. i could sit here and rant about responsibilies and relativity but that is a tired subject and it's unnecessary for me belabor the topic. i respect the devoted readers of western assimilation too much to do that.

this weekend? i would say i'd be catching up on sleep, but that would be a lie. hopefully i won't be too hungover saturday morning so that i can get on the early train up to seattle. the scene in portland is played.

CK.