When whale sounds emerge from the cube across from me, it means Elib is listening to Coldplay. I keep trying to find something likeable on their CD, but all I hear are Chris Martin’s “soaring” vocals, which from across the row sound a lot like whale sounds. I feel as though Coldplay is Michael Bolton for the alternative crowd – seems so substantive and credible now, but no one will own up to owning them in a decade or two. I could be wrong.

My dreams have been the same for a week now. Each night I revisit some previous point of my life. Some nights it has been like Quantum Leap, in that I seem to be viewing the scene through some otherwise unsuspecting body. In one dream I flirted with my first grade teacher while first-grade-me was packing up his bags from across the room. I’m not sure whose body I was in; hopefully not my mother’s.

In case I haven’t mentioned it to you personally, Tracy Bonham’s new record is fantastic. It’s pretty much all I ask for out of a record: smart, playful, great harmonies, killer hooks. The fact that it will not sell a million copies is criminal beyond my comprehension. I saw Tracy just a few weeks ago and, other than my gushing at her like a mutant afterwards, the show was wonderful. She’ll be in Philly again at the TLA with just her bassist on September 30th splitting a bill with Aqualung. It should be mentioned here that her bassist is utterly fantastic and a great singer, so the show should still be terrific.

I’m finding it hard to focus on anything after a week of work – just sit here and stare at the screen. I don’t want to be that person.