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For some reason I’ve been listening to harder and harder music.  It started at the end of SKIN TRADE, but it hasn’t stopped.  I haven’t gone back to my usual taste in songs.  Drowning Pool saved my life at the end of this last book, because I listened to it continously.  Thanks to Daven for suggesting it.  Jon has gleefully gone through his harder rock collection and given me a bag of albums to try.  Right now, Iced Earth is playing, which Daven also recommended.  But this album is a live album, and I find that I’m not terribly fond of live albums.  I usually prefer studio done, so I won’t say no to Iced Earth until I’ve heard an album that isn’t live.  The lead singer is clear, and understandable, but . . . I don’t know, the crowd noise maybe?  I’ve just never been that fond of live albums, no matter who it is, so I’m sure that Jon will be pleased as punch to dig me out a different Iced Earth. 

Yesterday I listened to Korn.  Not bad, but I find them a little too self-aware, as if they’re trying to see what tricks they can try rather than wanting to make music.  I don’t know, maybe a different album?  Though at the very end when I was desperate for late night/early morning music, I had Jon take me through a lot of harder bands.  Korn was one of them.  Near the end of the writing of SKIN TRADE, I called Korn, weak ass shit.  Yeah, what kind of mood was I in to say that?  I said it about a lot of bands that normally I’m going, wow, that’s . . . harsh.  Not any more.  Entombed is on the player right now, we’ll see, or rather we’ll listen. 

Oh, and Jon and I have passed through that phase of, yea, we’re aren’t working, to the next phase.  Next phase is anxiety that we aren’t working, as if something’s missing.  So, we’re catching up on all the business e-mails, all the offers for things, the paperwork that isn’t writing, and sorting things.  I went through the jeans that don’t fit anymore, and the jeans that do fit now, or again.  I went through a big stack of jeans and made myself get rid of the ones that don’t fit, or are so old they need to go away.  But part of me is still that little girl who was raised with no money, and a grandmother that could pinch a penny, and make it sing.  It’s hard not to hoard things, just in case.  In case of what, I was never sure growing up, but there was always an "in case". 

Entombed; no.  It’s not weak ass anything, but it doesn’t quite work for me.  Sepultura next.