You already know the flavor

Skip Sander[Longest post, ever.]
That's right. I'm sighing. What can I say? I've been a busy little beaver. I know you're sick of hearing about it, but I'm still adjusting--or perhaps not adjusting to this nighttime life. I took this evening off for a certain
Mr. Dear who came to Chop Suey this evening.
So, its Wednesday night (well, Thursday morning) and I'm still totally discombobulated about what day it is and what I'm supposed to be doing. I've slept for a total of 2 hours in the last 27 so please forgive any typos, grammatical errors, etc.
So you ask, "Jeremy, how's work?"
To which I reply, "Work is actually pretty good. It mimics a dream state. I look at pixels blown up to 300% and push them around a monitor whilst listening to music. Occasionally, I field an e-mail from Japan or China which reads like this, 'Dear Partner, Have tomorrow help size not enough. Please advise. Have a Happy Tomorrow Forever, Other Partner.' Yeah. So those are amusing and frustrating all at once. That's work."
As for the music to which I've been listening at said work establishment, well,
this track keeps popping up in my playlist and I've gotta say, that everytime I hear it, I like it a little bit more. I've long been a fan or Serge Gainsbourg and modern takes on his mod classics hit me just the right way. I have to check out the new tribute--although, I don't think anything can beat the electronic take (he is one of the pioneers, after all).
Ok, moving on.
Then you ask, "Jeremy, just because you essentially work 6 days a week [Five 8 hour shifts that start on Sunday night @ 11P and end at Friday 7:30A] that doesn't mean you have the right to neglect us, and we know you love us, so why have we been neglected?"
Well, that's not an easy answer. See, when I was a
daywalker, and my responsibilities were much lighter, it was easy to just take a five or ten minute break out of the day to do one of my (lame-ass) posts. Now that I have to work (yes, I realize that a simulated dream state is not *truly* work) for all 8 hours of my shift, I haven't had the time to give you the attention you so deserve, and I apologize for shirking my blog duties.

Ok. Now that all of that is out of the way, I have to post about the shit that has been goin' down.

First off, Friday--
Sander Kleinenberg @ The Showbox
you'll recall, Matt, a co-worker of his, and I hit up Vancouver to see Mr. Kleinenberg last June. We were sorely disappointed in his set.
Let me preface this.
Sander used to be da bomb. He put out mixes that featured artists like
Swayzak, Rui da Silva, Peace Division, Funky Green Dogs, Satoshi Tomiie, Hernan Cattaneo, and The Art of Noise. Grandmaster Flash was even singing his praises back in the, y'know. I mean, this is the dude who dropped Junior Boys and made me go out and buy their album (which was my favorite album of ought 4).
All that being said, dude sucks. Matt and I gave him another shot and while he might have been on-target for the shiny shirt guys, he left beatjunkies and househeadz much to be desired. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, go fuck yourself.
Domo Origato, Mr. Retardo

Then Saturday--a double bill sure to inspire--
Jamie Liddell and Jimmy Edgar.
If you'll recall, I put Jimmy Edgar's "My Beats" on
mix numero 3. That track hits it, but really what do you expect from Warp? Liddell harbors the soul of electronic music and is an admirable descendant of the aforementioned Gainsbourg. So the picture I'm posting is pretty much awful (why do I always make weird faces), it is, nonetheless, an accurate descriptor of the evening. And, fuck! When did I get so fat?!?! Good news is, the new sched allows much, much time at the gym. Today, a two-hour killer workout. (Oh yeah, and I'm sportin' the man-fuzz.)

Still rolling--This evening was a night that I asked to have off even before my "promotion" was finalized. Matthew Dear was rollin' thru and he knows how to knock it out. Chop Suey was surprisingly filled for a Wednesday. Of course, the crowd had thinned to 28 people by 1:00. That's ok, though, Matt and I had a great time. We drank and danced and cavorted. A huge posse was there early--Rachel, Paul, Matthew, Bern, David, Kiki, et. al. You know those nights where you see all those people who you know enjoy music as much as you? Well, this was one of those nights. Mr. Dear's set ended around 1:30. Matthew (roommate, not DJ) thanked Matthew (DJ, not roommate) and apologized for the ebbing crowd. Mr. Dear was amiable and replied, "Well, it is a Wednesday."

Is it really Wednesday? Because, seriously, I have no clue when a day starts or ends anymore.
To compound said confusion, my roommates, whom I have come to adore, require that I cook for them on a semi-regular basis. Yesterday morning (or is it this morning) they asked that I make another German pancake. I said I would if they purchased a sifter and all of the required ingredients. Here's how it turned out:
The way to a man's heart is butter, 5 TBsp

6 eggs, 1 c. bread flour, 5TBsp of butter, cinnamon, vanilla, and powdered sugar. Feeds 3.
If you don't have a skillet that can go in the oven, get one, just to make these.

So later today, I'm doing the press screening for the
Maya Lin exhibit @ the Henry. I'm excited and exhausted. I'm excitausted. I promise you, dear reader, that I will at least make more attempts at posting regularly.
[Oh yeah, and the other reason I haven't been posting as much--World of Warcraft. I finally defeated Van Cleef!!!]

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