This is my adopted daughter, Margot Tenenbaum.

Hello, readers.  I am communicating with you across time and space from the year 2011.  By the time you read this though, you will likely have joined me.  Unless I have readers on the west coast or in Hawai'i who are exceptionally timely and follow my spirited writings religiously.  Sorry if that didn't really make any sense.  I am somewhat sleep deprived, mildly exhausted, and took a large dose of cold medicine and nicotine mere moments ago.  So needless to say, we are going on a deep journey into the weirdness.

Many of you no doubt spent the evening drinking into oblivion, at a concert, of out with friends, full of optimism and excitement for the new year.  To those folks, I applaud you.  Personally, I spent the day shopping, watching football (that's American football to those of you joining us from abroad.  my beloved Chelsea FC is not performing to my expectations this season...), and doing other manly shit.  I know shopping isn't manly, but let's just try and look past that for now, okay??  Seriously, people, you're breaking my balls.  2011 was greeted in my neighborhood by a chorus of illegal fireworks, horns, and assorted small arms fire.  God bless The South (I capitalize it because it is so much more than just a region, yet simultaneously "only a home".  50 points to whoever catches that reference.).  2010 was a strange year for me, full of ups and downs.  It started off well enough, had some shaky bits in the middle, and eventually leveled out into some serious contentment.

Unlike last year, at midnight I was not at a concert, was not with friends, was not drunk, and didn't kiss anybody.  And yet, it was still pleasant.  I decided to pop my favorite movie into the dvd player, lay down, and just chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilllllllllll...  I could bore you with pretentious rants about things I decided about contemporary pop music and television from watching the new year's festivities, and I could tell you about how awesome The Royal Tenenbaums is, even after watching it for like the bajillionth time, but I won't.  I'm starting to feel way too mellow and relaxed for that.  Maybe that's just the nyquil talking.

With a cast like that, how could a movie not be perfect??  Seriously.

I've got some good shit coming up in 2011.  I plan on getting good and drunk tomorrow after I get off work (part of why I didn't do much tonight), and perhaps in the midst of that I'll clue you in on what's coming up.  Tips on how to be a bad kid.  Cool music to look forward to.  How to buy your first electric guitar from a pawn shop / craigslist / ebay and make sure it doesn't suck.  Things like that.  There's probably a lot more, but I can't remember.  That means I forgot better shit than you ever thought of.  Sorry for that, Kanye West briefly took hold of me and it could not be helped.

Hotel robe got me feelin' like a sheik.

Wait, what was I talking about??  Shit, dude, I don't even remember.  I don't think that's a great sign.

In 2011, like most people, I have a lot of resolutions.  I want to be more responsible, spend less time putting up with crap and more time doing the things that make me happy, hang out with the people who matter more, be better with money, and finally turn this fledgling music project into something respectable that's getting paid and playing out live.  Speaking of which, we had this baller jam session in a parking deck last night.  The ambience was a-may-zing and the natural reverb was supernatural.  Thundering bass that just goes for miles and miles into the night.

Alright, I'm getting way too tired to keep this up.  Store brand nyquil is still potent.  I promise my next blog post will be more interesting and less informative.  I might throw another picture into this one to trick you into reading it.

If this does not get your attention, then nothing will.

Well then, that about sums it up.  I think.  I'm not even sure this post makes any sense, and I'm pretty sure it will be easy to tell where I kind of quit writing in the course of it and got distracted by pringles and a movie.  It's not rocket surgery, people.

Keep doing what you do.  I'm gonna throw on some classic hip hop at some point.  Dance, motherfucker, dance.