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Saturday, Sept. 06, 2003 - 1:31 p.m.

Rock over London, Rock on Mom: In addition to bitching about harpsichords here, I'd written my mom an email mentioning the same thing. Here's part of her response:

"I agree about the harpsichord. I have played it a few times and it's easier in a way because you can poke it as hard or as unevenly as you want, and it's all the same volume--but of course there are subtleties. (Funny how, after a couple of glasses of wine, subtleties looks like subtitles, and one has to use spellcheck--which won't help.) (Even worse: I just spellchecked, and "spellcheck" is not a word.)"

It's in the low 70s here, finally, and it feels amazing. But it feels sad, too...I woke up sad today. It won't go away. I went for a walk in the light drizzle, petted the very soft cat, ate raisin bran, drank coffee, took a long shower, played the guitar, and generally did everything I could think of to make it better, but I suppose only time will take it away.

My secret name is Crusty Bananatush. The weirdest part is that I discovered my secret name last night from Lawson's computer, and now here at my office computer the next day it's THE SAME. I kind of was wishing for a better one -- my friend Mike's name is Pinky PizzaPants (though he doesn't know that yet) -- so I guess it really IS my secret name. What's more, Russell's name is Loopy Bananatush, so he's both my real brother and my secret brother.

Monday I am starting a possible new musical venture, meeting two rock boys for lunch to talk about a possible side project. It might not involve drums. This makes me a little nervous.

My mom's name, by the way, is Flunky Bananatush.

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