The Montenator

The guy who lives in the apartment above us–we'll just call him Clompy McClomperton–was stomping around yesterday morning with all his usual intensity. Monte was snuggling with me with all his usual intensity, until Clompy McClomperton startled him with his elephant footsteps. Monte looked at the ceiling, clearly alarmed. The look on his face said something along the lines of: "Squirrel? Squirrel? Squirrel? Squirrel?"

If you're reading this, Mr. McClomperton, watch out. My cat thinks you're a giant squirrel and he wants a piece of you.

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In other news, I… wait for it… wait for it… left Hyde Park today. My roommate and I went to a hipster coffee house in Wicker Park called Filter, where we drank lattes out of proper mugs, hipster-watched, listened to a very shrill and melodramatic woman talk to a very bored-looking man, and, oh yeah, studied. We then went record shopping at Reckless Records. Is this what it's like to be normal? I'd forgotten.

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current book: um, yeah. still fucking Ricoeur. but I also read a chapter today from a book by WJT Mitchell, the title of which I can't remember and which I'm too lazy to look up. the chapter is called "Metapictures," and is about self-referential art, or pictures that are about pictures. The most common ones are the duck-rabbit and the old woman/young woman, both of which you probably saw in your high school psychology textbook. art? I'm not so sure.
current music: at Reckless Records today, I purchased two Arto Lindsay albums (Salt and Hyper Civilizado) and Versus, the Kings of Convenience's remix album. I want to listen to everything all at once! I just discovered Arto Lindsay thanks to one of my awesome managers at McBookstore, but it seems that Lindsay, based on his album art, is strangely penis-obsessed.
current socks: bright purple with green frogs.