the new cardigans song is pretty pretty. check it out at stereogum.

sawyer is totally going to have to get his arm amputated, isn't he?

UPDATE: an interesting image comparing the others to a few familiar faces from the last ep.

update on the noisy upstairs neighbor: up until this very moment, NUN has been the picture of quiet neighborliness. there's barely even been any walking. but right now, i am convinced that NUN is doing some combination of the following:

1. running laps
2. juggling small boulders, and by the sound of it, dropping many of them
3. running laps with a small child, due to some strange pitter patter sound that is accompanying NN's footsteps
4. harboring a small whale that enjoys flopping from side to side

seriously. what. the. fuck. could NUN be doing? there is no way normal apartment movements cause these kind of sounds.

in other news, i took ogged's advice and have started sleeping (very peacefully) with my earplugs in. all has been well except for one terrifying moment last night where i adjusted my left earplug and PUSHED IT ALL THE WAY IN MY EAR. the next five minutes were spent frantically racing around my apartment, digging in my ear only to push the plug in further, and imagining explaining the situation to the doctor at the ER and/or living as an earplug outcast, rejected by society for the bit of foam lodged in my ear canal. thankfully, a pair of eyebrow tweezers saved the day. but it was scary there for a little bit.

yes, i am a very special person, thank you.

....ok, i have to add a #5: gliding back and forth on a skateboard.

SERIOUSLY?!

UPDATE: #6 - dumping marbles on the floor...?

frank ahrens discusses the future of journalism technology in the post today, in both an article (referencing a wall street journal size change different from the asian wall street journal tabloid format change that i mentioned earlier) and online chat. the article discusses newspapers trying to become smaller or lighter to offset printing costs, and the chat reflects on the possibility of electronic newspapers that would elminate print editions completely.

they're kind of interesting, except for the obligatory retarded reference to how bloggers are idiots who get everything wrong and true, brave newspaper journalists are the ones who must right the wrongs.

This post of Kriston's reminded me of something that terrifies me — something that embodies a nightmarish vision of a future that I would prefer to avoid. One in which all banter between myself and my middleaged friends occurs in French. It makes me want to start pricing motorcycles. Fast ones, with poor cornering ability.

I didn't take French in high school. I took Latin. In college my Echols status got me out of the language requirement. I've picked up some Italian since then — enough that, with sufficient funds, I can survive on my own in that harsh wasteland for literally days at a time. But any discussion of my "language skills" is far more likely to revolve around compilation than conjugation.

So maybe it's just that I'm ignorant (clearly I am). Maybe it's lingering childhood resentment for my parents' secret dinnertable code. Maybe it's the imprecise instrument I'm using. But whenever I drag myself from Salon or The New Yorker or some lefty comment thread to translate some alleged bon mots on Babelfish, the results are just awful. Like, sitcom awful. Garfield awful, even. What's the French word for "banal", anyway?

Despite this, the farce that is my career has yet to come crashing down around me. But then, it's only 9:40. I'll keep you posted.