My perishables are in a plastic bag on my fourth story window's outside sill. I hope they're cold enough. I worry about them, about their health. I think I may need to toss the milk if it doesn't get cooler out. Not that it's hot. But we're getting closer, yeah? I often examine our ten-day forcast, looking for highs that have a 6_ or 7_ attached to them, and have found a few next week. Today, of course, is mid-50s. Decent milk-on-the-fire-escape weather.
Still, I ought to cherish the spring. Only spring allows for pink lips:
With leather finish jeans and five-inchers:
What will I do when I can't wear my black suede platform boots? Oh, yeah.
(Out of stock online, but I was able to physically purchase mine from UO today.)
Urban Outfiiters. The least expensive, classy FLATFORMS I could find.
Now, on to the real reason for this surprise, pre-summer post. It's music related. Besides The National's newest little lovely (created, as I understand it, for a video game called Portals 2), I wanted you to hear this:
Cass McCombs, County Line.
Love,
J. Benny
P.S. Oh, late 90s saddness, I must miss you:
The Cass and Jude have a similar something, no?
