It's going to be over 90 degrees today kicking off another East Coast heatwave. All I want to do is stay inside, watch movies in French and shop for raincoats. I'm ready for fall.
I don't understand people who renounce television. I generally love tv. Lately I've been completely addicted to both Gangland and Who Do You Think You Are? and have watched them for hours on end.
I have a dog named Arlo. She has a raincoat. Arlo is an 18 lb Manchester Terrier. She has long spindly legs and enormous pivoting, telescoping ears that clap behind her head when she yawns. She is not, in fact, a vicious miniature pinscher thankyouverymuchconcernedBrooklynparents.
But she has a raincoat. It's navy with yellow piping and if it didn't mean that we'd match, I'd wish that I had one like it. I swore that I would never be one of those people that dressed their pets in cutesy little outfits, but she won't go out in the rain without it. My dog, fierce appearance and butch name aside, is kind-of a wuss. And I have become that lady, walking past the hipsters smoking outside the bar at 8:30 on a Sunday, with a dog in a jacket.
I've had a case of writer's block for over a year now. I think the only way to get rid of it is to just start with something, anything to get back in the habit, and to remember that the worst circumstances make for the best songs.
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