So I finally pay attention to this page (have I mentioned everything’s showing up in Courier? Flippin’ Blogger) and wouldn’t you know it, the one thing that didn’t survive?

Hard returns.

And I was initially tempted to fix it (to be fair it’s my fault–I changed some settings around on a lark) but then I remembered that I was exceedingly lackadaisical. So it stays as is. I’m just going to pretend it’s some sort of affectation. As in ee cummings in html.

Whatever. It’s late.

I’ve been thinking music lately. Always happens around this time of year.

So seeing as it’s late I have a late night music confession.

You know how there are things that you should like? I don’t mean brussel sprouts. I mean stuff like certain books, art, music, people…. Everything about it seems tailor-made for you. And yet despite any attempt or reasoning with your brain you just can’t get into it?

I don’t really like the Beastie Boys.

Because I think I’m supposed to like them. I’m a timid middle-class white girl. They’re a non-threatening, urban, quasi-intellectual white rap group. It should be a match made in pop culture heaven.

But I can’t. I really really tried. I even lied about it for years, thinking I just wasn’t cool enough to get them.

Look, they’re not horrible or anything. They have some decent stuff, especially the early years. But I always felt like their key to success lay in their ability to make white kids think they were cooler than they are. I just don’t think they’re quite as talented as everyone seems to believe.

And c’mon, anyone can yell “Free Tibet” in a crowded theatre. It doesn’t make you some sort of philanthropic guru.

So there. Confession #1. Tomorrow? Confession #2-#42: The College Years.