On today's itinerary: graduation, Garbage and grades.

With graduation fast approaching, familial dramatics are reaching a fever pitch. I didn't want graduation to be a big deal, and was even thinking about skipping the commencement ceremony, but my father has suddenly orchestrated a massive party of relatives to come celebrate the event. Suddenly announcements, a cap/gown purchase, hotel rooms and dinner plans, etc. are all being orchestrated, but with all my schoolwork at the moment these are the last things I'd like to be worrying about. In addition my mom is trying to get her side of the family equally involved, much to my dismay, and after breaking down in tears over the phone, was even briefly planning to come herself, much to my father's dismay, and stay with us in the house, much to Matt's dismay. (Matt and I are now planning to visit her for serveral days after graduation instead.) Interfamily tension and its associated responsibilities always make me clam up miserably. It would be nice, I imagine, to have two halves of a family who did not dislike each other and parents who could address one another without sniping or raising voices. At the very least, all of this graduation chaos has offered an unexpected perk by distracting me from the vast, gaping black hole that is my life post-graduation.

On Thursday evening Charlie and I went to see Garbage perform at the Tabernacle theatre/club in Atlanta. (It was my second concert ever; the first was, uncoincidentally, also Garbage, back in '99 at the HFStival in DC.) Garbage has been my favorite band for the past seven years or so, though as the last two albums have been subpar, I've been reconsidering that title and had some doubts about going to the show. My doubts, however, proved unfounded. Not only was the Tabernacle, a renovated church, a very neat place, but the band rocked so hard that my ears rang for the next two and a half days. Impressive, if not a bit unnerving. They did almost all of my favorite songs from their four-album catalog, but the highlight was when, during the encore, Shirley stopped mid-song, shouting "Wot the fock is goin on down there?" all flustered and concerned like an angry mother hen. It turned out some poor soul near the front had lost his glasses. "If yer goin to see a show, put yer glasses on a fuckin string!" she advised us, laughing, and then restarted the song. Rocker with a conscience, our Shirley! And fantastically, enthrallingly beautiful. Here is an album of pictures that someone else at the show was kind enough to take, and off which I will sponge without pity or regret. Elsewhere on the internet, it appears someone was kind enough to bootleg the entire show in surprsingly good quality and post mp3s and some apt commentary, so these delights, too, can be had. It was truly an excellent second concert. I can see why these things are so popular.

Today I was returned the paper mentioned in the previous post, and flipping instinctively to the back page, discovered that I earned a 99 and many congratulations from my normally demanding and pretentious professor. The point I lost was due, I suspect, to my blatant misspelling of the author's name in the first sentence of the paper. Seeing as I wrote the introduction half an hour before the deadline while running on three hours of fitful sleep, I will gladly accept the loss.