it's me, scott.

rock! tonight, i went and saw robbie fulks play downtown at 12th & porter. and. i think it was the best show i've gone to in a long time!! i mean. not that i have anything against sitting somewhere concentrating on not puking, but those shows are about being drunk and the people i'm around while drunk. this show was all about the music! and boy, does that fulks boy rock.

speaking of, i just found out today that dan bern is playing on sunday night. i love dan bern!! who wants to go with me? (anoop. i'm looking at you! especially since you didn't show up tonight.)

okay. enough talk of the rock. one can only talk of the rock so much.

last night, i had a really crazy dream that i was on a floor hockey team. like, the kind where you just run around on a gym floor with a big plastic hockey stick trying to hit a bright orange plastic puck into a tiny little net. at first, i sucked, but as my dream went on, i finally became the star of my floor hockey team!!! and of course, won the admiration of all the women spectators in my grade school gymnasium. gymnaseum. gym. i have no idea how to spell that word.

anyway.

that's all i really have to write about right now, but let's go over the important morals of this letter which i have provided you with tonight:

moral #1: sometimes i like going to shows. i especially like going to shows when i don't have to stand the entire time. and where beer is provided. (yeah, it's a really fucking rarity that beer would be provided at a venue, right? and a real fucking rarity that i might actually drink beer. haha!)

moral #2: floor hockey rules, and i am the hockeyest of all floor hockeyers.

right.

love,
scott.