Instead of going out to the hipsterest music festival, Coachchella, to see the reunited Pixies, or Kraftwerk, or Radiohead, and spending three days in a condo with a group of music writers, going to Spin and Urban parties, then drive back through Barstow, in an immaculate 1976 red Porche, I was extremely domestic this weekend, going out to visit a very young baby. After a vegan grill, we watched Chris Rock do his stand up on a TiVo of his HBO show. Although I believe he is smart, he is also kind of angry, in a way; that interfered with my enjoyment of his show.

Sunday, while out perambulating on the beach, I came on a fish, still alive, flapping on the sand. I threw it back in, and it appeared to swim away. This was a fish about eight inches long, not some crappy little minnow. I was a little surprised by this, but the surf was crashing kind of hard, and I suppose the fish was somehow thrown by the waves up onto the sand.

The strange weather of summer has begun, as of yesterday, with a cold fog blowing in after about three days of broiling hot sun. Personally, I am glad for it, as the sun was beginning to melt my brain. I also just bought a new digital camera, so hold onto your hat, because it's just a matter of time before I put up some really high resolution photos.