I haven't blogged in a while because I haven't done anything blog-worthy since my last post. My lack of leisure time coupled with weather patterns rivaling the last ice age have made any real activity impossible.

I went to a concert in Indy the other night. The main act is one of Michelle's favorites, which is why I was there, but it was the band before them that really caught my attention. They're called Spookie Daly Pride, and to try to explain their music in text would not do them justice. Most bands have that one guy who looks kind of odd, like he was raised by wolves. This band was four of those odd guys. The lead singer/piano player would play the piano with his feet, pretend to fly, and every time he finished a cigarette he would place it on an amp, and the guitar player would pick it up, take a drag, and stamp it out. This happened several times, like a ritual. I bought their CD before their set was over, I was sold.

Yesterday I assisted in taking a stray cat to an animal shelter. This may seem remarkable in itself, but it was nothing compared to the interior of the shelter. Cats. Wall to wall, floor to ceiling, everywhere. The odd mix of strays reminded me of the asylum in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Some were friendly, but all of them had their own unique neuroses. One of them had a thing for climbing on backs (I have little claw marks on my shoulder from that one.) One of them was the largest cat I have ever seen from being overfed by some old lady. Seriously, this cat was immobile. It was chapter one in the lesser known of T.S. Eliot's works, "Old Possum's Book of Impractical Cats." I can laugh at it because it can't chase me.

Tomorrow I'm going to a Halo fragfest with people from my classes. It ought to be fun, if the last one was any indicator.