Yesterday I went to a house show featuring Jason Anderson, who I believe would probably have no problem starting a successful cult. His stage presence and ability to radiate feelings of warmth was highly pleasing. As a bonus, some girl made chocolate chip cookies and passed them around the crowd. They were pretty good; better than purple kool-aid, in any case.

Seriously though, if he comes around your town, I’d suggest seeing him.

Afterward, I danced like an indie kid and lifted my skinny fists toward the heavens like antennas. Someone brought an mp3 player with a good playlist and hooked it up to the speaker system. Foolishness = enjoying yourself, even right throughout some previously unknown girl with goggles and an aviator hat coming and gyrating up all over you. Dancing is weird like that - social norms regarding personal space are totally abandoned when music is involved. It’s the best way to get to know someone quickly, I guess.

My right leg hurts from it all. Apparently when I “get down” I do it favoring my right side.

Life is good.