I've lost control of this thing. I'm taking control back. It sits here during the week and then, on Sunday, I spend an hour recounting. It's dumb. It's routine. Nobody gets to the end of entries. How could you? There's no central topic. They're, like, 900 words. Or longer. They're so light on detail - names and locations excluded to protect the innocent, obviously - so as to be incomprehensible.

So I'm done doing this. But I'm not done writing.

And I'll keep writing here. But nobody will read here. But, oh well.

Back when I started this thing, Gurs gave me the idea. He was on his first of, say, four started-but-abandoned-a-few-months-later blogs. They're probably still active somewhere - the first was on NU's now-defunct Pubweb. Anyway, at the beginning, it was poorly-punctuated, and updated several times weekly, sometimes multiple times nightly, and was mostly observational: This is a tiny story of what happened and, because I thought it notable, maybe you'll think it notable. Or, I like this new band. I'm sorry, but I feel obligated to write about them.

Anyway, though I've had other pursuits get in the way lately (you've ignored the painstakingly recounted play-by-play, certainly), I'm going to do my best to write here on a somewhat-nightly basis. Maybe observational. Maybe life tidbits. Maybe about awesome new shirts. (That entry is coming, hopefully, Wednesday night. You'll love it.)

For the record, Jenny has re-emerged in a new location, and she's doing amazing work. She's quite funny, though semi-NC 17, if you're the type who is inspired to click on these things.

So, well, let's see how this goes. I'll stick by my "no title" policy, which wasn't so much of a policy as something I started as a Hey, this is like an online diary! convention. So, no titles.

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I don't talk to my older brother nearly enough. He knows this. I know this. What are you gonna do? It takes two to tango, right, and neither of us has really been interested in tango-ing so much in, well, forever. And that's okay. I love him. I think he's cool with me. Whatever, right?

I talked to my brother yesterday. He turned 30 yesterday. He threw a kickass birthday party on Saturday, bringing in eight bands to the land of beer and sausage, and playing bass with his favorite band ever. Or, one of them, anyway.

It was really exciting to hear him talk about the experience - after all, this was the band that played the second punk show my brother ever went to, and the first one he drove to, because it was half a lifetime ago for him. And they encore'd with one of my brother's favorite songs and, yes, he was playing bass with them. And, yes, he did the stage dive thing and, yes, after two nights of playing with his favorite band, he couldn't really speak on Sunday afternoon but, well, you got the sense that he could probably go six or seven or eight days without sleeping and not have a problem. Six-week adrenaline rush, friends.

He's 30. He's got the same enthusiasm he had for the music and the life that he did when he was 16. Probably moreso, in fact. It was pretty amazing to hear.

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That took 12 minutes. It was more interesting than my last post, which took 90 minutes, probably, and which I labored through.

We'll see if this lasts. More tomorrow, perhaps.