Al Gore is right.

I know that a hot day in July isn't truly evidence of global warming, but still.

It's fucking inescapable.

The other day at work, I walked outside and it was just as hot outside as it usually is when I first get in my car in the evening. That's disgusting.

I hear pretty much the entire West coast is like this right now, except apparently Southern California, which is getting more reasonable temps in the 70s and 80s. I swear to christ it's in the 100s all night here. Okay, not really, but it stays unbelievably hot. We thought about going to Santa Cruz to cool off, but it was in the 90s there, too. Monterey sounded reasonably pleasant, but it's about a two-hour drive, and by the time we could've left, we would've been in the car for the better chunk of the afternoon, which... ugh.

Heat makes me totally lethargic. I had plans to make curry paste and cook all kinds of crap this weekend and it hasn't happened. I walk in the kitchen and think about wiping off the cutting board or rinsing out the blender jar and just go sit back down. The heat also makes me feel like a fat slug. These things combined made me a raging bitch for half of yesterday.

Wow, it was so ho(t) I forgot I was writing a blog entry. We are going to Santa Cruz, where is is in the 80s and 90s and not 103 like it is here right fucking now.

Music and parents.

I am thinking about this lately because I sent my mom a couple CDs -- a copy of Ben Folds Five's The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner and a mix of Neko Case songs I thought she'd dig -- and she called me from the road this morning to say she did like them. Which filled me with warm fuzzies.

There have always been a handful -- but only a handful -- of things we both liked, and a laundry list of things we disliked immensely in each others' stereos. There was always the Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, and Cat Stevens. She has somewhat recently gotten into U2, of all things, and while I'm not especially into U2 (no hate, no love), it's made me think she might be more open to new stuff now than she might've been when I was a whiny teenager who loved the Smashing Pumpkins. (Though she readily cops to enjoying some Radiohead, even then.)

Then there was the time she was asking me how to go about finding one particular mp3 online, and it didn't occur to me to ask which one, but it turned out that she wanted Jeff Buckley. I mean, really?

So while I'm sure I'd never try to get my mom into Deerhoof or spend an evening listening to Slint's Spiderland with her, I wonder how much music we might manage to have in common now.

What do you and your parents both like? What would you try to get your parents into? Or are you and your parents completely at odds when it comes to music? (Becky, I already know the answer in your case; your mom is special and I love her anyway. I also owe her email. Now what did I do with that business card....)

For fucking serious.

I got will-call tickets to a show that's in September at the Greek in Berkeley.

Massive Attack. DJ Shadow opening. Yes.

I loved this shit since high school and still actually love it. Not even Radiohead really passed that muster.

I have an ex-boyfriend who allegedly quit listening to both of them after we broke up, despite loving them, on account of my fondness for them. I almost feel like I owe it to the asshole.

Not to mention I owe it to myself. Massive fucking Attack and DJ goddamn Shadow!

What else is going on? Not really anything. I have some more photos I should suck off the camera like sweet, sweet nectar and post. A lot of them involve trees. I've been watching videos, but I can't remember them now. Nothing memorable, apparently!

Yesterday in Santa Cruz...

beach, originally uploaded by emily ca..

We showed up on a chilly, windy, overcast Aptos beach just after sunset. It was wonderful.

Early Saturday.

My camera has arrived. It's fucking slick. I think I've got a good handle on the major controls at this point, but I am still experimenting with it before I start posting a ot of pictures. When I do, you'll see them at this site -- that's right, I've gone and signed up for a damn Flickr account, so friend me, contact me, link me; do whatever you want to do with that information. I swear there will soon be more images than my user icon.

I just noticed a receipt for my prescriptions on the desk in front of me. (The apartment... it's very messy.) Apparently if the HMO didn't have my back, I would've dropped $134 for 100 allegra tablets and $80.60 for the nasal spray, instead of their respective $10 and $25. So, I may see doctors in the system that fucked up their entire kidney transplant program, but at least I'm not paying an obscene amount of money to do so.

This week has been not super-fantastic, personally, partly because I've had this low-level stomachache all damn week. I did a little more catsitting, but Kevin wasn't feeling up to inflaming his allergies, so there are no funny stories about the kitten. (Besides that it says "mew!" in that tiny little voice of hers a lot and likes to attack things, especially the other two cats, and you can imagine how happy they are about it. Potential carnage involving one tiny and cute cat and one beautiful and graceful cat isn't really funny, though.)

Not sure what all is going on this weekend. Charlie Murphy is playing the Improv in downtown San Jose and I was going to try to go with my coworkers, but I guess they forgot (and so did I, kinda). I am not really much of a 4th of July kind of girl, since none of the following things could be in any way construed as my bag: excessive displays of patriotism, things exploding, barbecues (it's the whole meat cooking smell thing), drinking alcohol, hot weather.

Today I plan on cleaning my kitchen, maybe the rest of my apartment, and handing over a rent check. I know, dream big, right?