Last night brought another fruitful practice with Desperado, the Linda Ronstadt tribute band that Tyson and I have been fooling around with. I can hear that sneer curling your lips from here, but I stand by this project – say what you will about Ms. Ronstadt (the Eagles are kinda her fault, and that's hard to forgive), she had excellent taste in songwriters, so essentially this is a chance to work up our own versions of songs by the likes of Lowell George, Warren Zevon, Neil Young, Elvis Costello, Gram Parsons, Roy Orbison, even Judee Sill if we feel like it. Plus I get to examine my own relationship with the woman who most shaped my particular tastes in feminine pulchritude … as a pre-teen I hung a large poster of Linda’s image from the back cover of the Prisoner in Disguise LP above my bed, a tight close-up highlighting her thick brunette tresses, lush bow-tie lips, adorable button nose and coy wide-eyed gaze. I’ve been helpless ever since.

The past week also brought me a virus for my laptop … if your computer is suddenly overcome with pop-up advertisements for a Microsoft product called “XP Police,” well, it’s too late, but just know that despite clever graphic design it isn’t a Microsoft product at all, but rather an irritating virus believed to have originated in Russia. It announces that the computer has been infected and forcibly directs you to a webpage telling you the only way to clean it out is purchasing this fake software. After hours of work, the main problem (hundreds of pop-ups) is gone, but the thing still runs so slow that it’s essentially useless. Most of the files I have backed up elsewhere, but that information is scattered among dozens of discs. No matter the outcome here, it's going to be an expensive inconvenience.

I could tell you how my mood has been lately, but what's the point? I feel pretty good today, and that's all that matters to me right now.