That playlist I promised, and a few other things of note.

This is a "blog housekeeping" post, meaning it feels a little arbitrary but comes from a place of sincerity.

- So here's that playlist I promised several weeks ago; it's my "I get up at 5:30 so I can drive north on I-5 all groggy like clutching a cup of coffee and trying not to crash my car and make it to work on time by 7" playlist. Or, as it is labeled on the CD,

Ryan Goes to Work:

"Everybody Say" by Takka Takka

"Nick and Norah's Theme" composed by Mark Mothersbaugh

"In a Cave" by Tokyo Police Club

"Hard to Live in the City" by Albert Hammond Jr.

"Lights Out" by Santigold

"Ticking Clock" by Sisero

"Again and Again" by The Bird and The Bee

"Catch my Disease" by Ben Lee

"Every Time" by Lincoln Hawk (not a real band)

"Some are Lakes" by Land of Talk

"What I Am [cover]" by Emma Bunton

"Talk Show Host" by Radiohead

"Piazza, New York Catcher" by Belle and Sebastian

"When I Come Around" by Green Day

"Needle in the Camel's Eye" by The Wolfmen

"Plea from a house cat named Virtue" by The Weakerthans

"Racing Lights" by Stars of Track and Field

"Happiness" by Goldfrapp

"Acid Tongue" by Jenny Lewis

- Also, I have friends visiting from out-of-town this weekend and I couldn't be more stoked if I were at Disneyland chowing down on chicken tacos and a chocolate/vanilla swirl ice cream cone. Although that would be pretty damn awesome.

- Also, I finished that Chuck Klosterman book and thought it was only okay. Not as fresh feeling as Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs or as snarky in a fun way as IV, but somewhere in-between. At the end I was left wanting a bit more, and wondering if I'd really learned anything about anything other than just how the author feels about love, death, and Radiohead (I mean, the bits about Radiohead really are brilliant and insightful, but a tangent is a tangent is a tangent). I also have come to despise his critics--Not those who blast him, but those who praise him. His writing is great, but god damn it all he's not the next Hunter S. Thompson. He's a smart guy, but this narrative is not the front-runner of a new wave one might callously refer to as "modern gonzo journalism." Just because you don't get it doesn't mean it's Fear and Loathing. Stop pretending like you've read anything by Thompson, and stop pretending you care that Salinger is dead. FUCK.

- Okay, on a lighter note, it's Easter candy season, which means my love has returned to store shelves:

- So some of you out there might have cats. Answer me this, readers--Does your cat sometimes sit in the middle of the room in the sunlight and just meow and meow and meow for an unknown reason? I mean my god, I'm right here in plain view and there's food in the bowl and water in the bowl and what could she possibly need? Is she just validating her existence by proclaiming "I am here!" the only way she knows how or is there a more desperate and sad meaning to these cries? I need a book on cat dementia.

"Bitter heart, bitter heart tries to keep it all inside.

Bitter heart, bitter heart--The shadows will help you try and hide.

Bitter heart, bitter heart is getting just a little fragile.

Bitter heart, this bitter heart o' mine."