Every so often I get an idea in my head that I have to buy an album that won't go away until I actually buy it. The first time I can remember that happening was in the summer of 1992 with Crooked Rain Crooked Rain. It happened this week when I heard a song on the local college station called "Plea From a Cat Named Virtute" by the Weakerthans. So I went out and bought the album, Reconstruction Site.

Wow.

What a great freakin' album. You should seriously buy it. If you're not certain, download Virtute or "Our Retired Explorer (Dines With Michel Foucault in Paris, 1961)". Deuce, there's a song about Antarctic explorers. It's custom-made for you, buddy.

Also, the Avenue Q soundtrack is now out. Everyone should buy that, too.

Oh well. Things aren't poised to get better just yet. There's a list of things that have improved over the past few days, and a list of things that have gone down the crapper. I'm just not in a very good mood right now. Compounding matters is the fact that Elliot Smith apparently killed himself yesterday, so I'm listening to one of his albums in tribute. Unfortunately, his music is reeeal fucking depressing. Poor guy. RIP, brotha.
Shout outs to Andy and Melissa, who I spoke to on the phone this weekend. I miss you guys. Sorry I won't be able to make Christmas, but I hope you guys have such a fantastic time that it drives me insane with jealousy.
If anyone else ever feels like speaking to me for some reason, please call me anytime. I might not b able to speak at right that moment, but I'll definitely get back to you. If you need my cell phone number, email me and I'll give it to you.

Okay, we moved in this weekend. Despite some high-running tensions, everything went really well. Thank the lord (and my friends for helping me move) that I'm finally in a new, good apartment. Now things can finally turn around. I'll keep you updated and let you know how things are going. Yes I will.

How bored was I tonight? I was so bored that I actually sat down and wrote...a column. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's the long-awaited return of the critically lauded, fan-favorite column, Hijinx Ensue, in an all-new edition, the first in a year and a half. Don't get used to it, though. This isn't a weekly thing anymore. But if the spirit moves me...write encouraging words about how much it touched your life and I might be encouraged to write some more in the future. And please, bear with me. I'm rusty.

HIJINX ENSUE: What’s Happening to my Brain?

I’m a little worried. You see, lately I’ve been experiencing such extreme personality changes that I can only assume I have a disease. What’s the name of that disease where your mind and body start to slowly deteriorate? Oh, what’s it called...it’s one of the leading killers...Oh, that’s right. Getting old.

I suppose I’m a likely candidate for getting old. After all, I graduated from college, and have a full-time job with business cards and everything. That’s always made me feel old. Plus, I recently got married at the tender age of 22, one of the foremost warning signs of premature maturity.

But things have been happening lately that have me concerned that my agedness is even more advanced than I had imagined. Foremost, I recently started listening to public radio. I have no idea why. Well, it makes sense that I started listening to the local public music station - it plays good, interesting music with none of the radio commercials that make me want to drive into a road divider. In fact, the only reason that I didn’t start listening to it sooner is that in my old car, the frequency of the station caused waves to emanate from my stereo that depressed me. True story.

So I’m not too alarmed by my new allegiance to the public music station. It’s my sudden addiction to NPR I find alarming. For the past year, I’ve lived without cable TV and without a daily newspaper, and the only way I got any news was if someone told me about a joke that was on the Daily Show the previous night. And then suddenly, over the last couple of weeks, I found myself switching over to NPR more and more often, listening to the news.

At first I said it was just because I was interested in the Democratic primary (my new and inexplicable hobby. I almost bought a Rolling Stone the other day because it had an interview with Wes Clark, whereas I had no desire to buy the one with Britney Spears humping a wall on the cover), but I soon found myself listening no matter what weird crap they were talking about. The mating habits of woodland ducks? Sure, why the hell not. This evening I was so interested in a program that, when I arrived at the house, I almost considered trying to tune it in inside. I might as well throw on a cardigan and fall asleep reading my copy of the AARP newsletter.

Then there’s the matter of my musical taste, which has outgrown my youthful cynical elitism and now enjoys whatever the hell is playing at any given moment. Except, of course, whatever’s popular with the kids, so that when I hear the latest popular music I can say to myself, “Kids these days listen to crap!” The fact that it’s true doesn’t make it sound any less cranky coming out of my mouth.

Fortunately, the brain has a neat defense mechanism in place to make growing old less alarming: the older you get, the more you realize how stupid the young are. And the more idiotic teenagers you walk past in the mall, blasting Good Charlotte and scoffing at anyone who has the gall to stare at their bizarre clothing they’re wearing so they can get stared at, the less inclined you are to hold steadfastly to your own, moronic youth.

So maybe my agification isn’t such a bad thing. I’m certainly more informed than I was a month ago (want to know how woodland ducks do it? You sure?) . And I can enjoy more things without worrying about how cool or uncool they are. Yup, aside from my failing eyesight, nonexistent memory, expanding waistline, receding hairline, engulfing debt and crushing responsibilities...what was I saying again?

Oh yeah. If anyone finds the fountain of youth, please let me know about it. Maybe I’ll hear about it on NPR.

Justin Aclin was a weekly columnist for the Daily Free Press. Now he’s, to paraphrase Bernie Mac, “a grown-ass man”.

Just a quick update:
Everything is still kind of crappy. Not in the grander scheme of things, but this certainly hasn't been the most pleasnt few weeks of my life. I only hope things will be better when we move into our new place. Or, ideally, before then.

I had my first CAT scan yesterday.

As I said, my nose had swollen up something fierce on Sunday. I looked like a boxer. Or that kid from Mask. So when I went to the doctor on Sunday evening, they suggested I come back in the morning for a CAT scan since the nose is so close to your brain. Nice.

So I had the scan yesterday morning. Nothing too teriible is wrong. I have a deviated septum and things were ridiculously swollen inside, but I'm on some steroids (which rock!) and some super antibiotics and I feel much better already.

Yesterday was actually the first good day I had in a while. I had off from work, and after I got back from the doctor we told our landlord that we wanted our new apartment (upstairs from our old one and much, much nicer) and established that we very well be able to move in mid-month instead of 11/1. Then Brooke and I had one of our trademark "Fall Fun Days". We went to a couple farm kind of things and ate cider donuts (It's cool - if you're sick you're allowed to eat on Yom Kippur). Then we went and picked our own pumpkin and carved a jack o'lantern and it rocks! It was the first time in a while that Brooke and I got to spend some quality time together, so that was really nice.

Finally, big congrats to Deuce, who finally got tha TV job of his dreams. If you get any free PS2 games you don't know what to do with, right here, man. Congrats again!

Yesterday we bid an unfond farewell to the apartment we had called "home" and "shithole" for 11 months. Since the decision to move came on Thursday night, Friday night was dedicated to frantic last-minute packing (until the skunk showed up) and so I didn't get to attend the concert, which, I understand, was freezing.

Yesterday was an intense day of moving in the rain. By the time we were through only a few knick knacks were left in the apartment and I headed off to see School of Rock with my friend Zach who helped us move. I would also like to point out that I'm now about 90% certain that my nose is broken. Don't ask me how, but yesterday the pain that was in my septum moved up into the bridge and this morning it had swelled up like a balloon.

Anyway, all our stuff is now literally clogging my mom's basement and garage, and we're living here for the time being. At the end of the month or even sooner, we may end up living upstairs of where we were living before, in a much nicer apartment. It's on the fourth floor, and the elevator only goes to 3, so you have to walk up a very narrow staircase to get in there. I'll keep you posted.

Late September 1963. What a very special time for me.

Anyway. For those of you who I haven't been constantly bitching to on IM (sorry, Deuce), here's a rundown of what happened this week so far.

- I had this intense pain in my nose and front teeth. I went to a doctor, who said it was probably my teeth. So I went to a dentist, who said it was probably my sinuses. So I went to an ear nose and throat doctor, who looked down my nostrils with a fiber-optic camera and said I definitely didn't have a sinus infection, so it was probably my teeth. So I called my dentist, who spoke to the dentist I had gone to that day, who both agreed that it was definitely not my teeth and was probably my sinuses. So I went back to the first doctor and got him to give me antibiotics. This was all in the course of two days. I feel better now.

- We've had problems with animals in the apartment. Last week a squirrel got in, and then the next day we called the police over because of the possibility of a rabid squirrel living outside our window. I kid you not. So the other night we hear an animal scratching in this hole we have in our floor by our radio. At the same time, we found a trail of blood on our carpet that extended for about 3 feet which was, to say the least, disconcerting. Brooke and I head to Lowes to get some insulation to stuff the hole, and when we come back, there's a skunk. In my bedroom. It climbed out of the hole. So we freak, and leave the bedroom. Several panicked phone calls later, we go back in the bedroom, stuff the hole with the insulation (I hate insulation) and head to my Mom's to spend the night. Brooke went back the next morning and the insulation was all gone, and the skunk had obviously been poking around the apartment, turning over garbage bags and such. Brooke calls the landlord, who fills the hole (and the huge void beneath our bedroom floor that we had no idea about) with broken cinder blocks. We may be sleeping at my mom's indefinitely. The good thing that came out of this is the landlord mentioned an apartment coming open upstair. I pray to the good lord above that we can move in there.

- I mailed off my thing to the guy. I think it turned out pretty well, and I don't expect anything to necessarily come of it, but it was a good experience. I'll tell you what the hell I'm talking about when it all sorts itself out.

- I got free tickets to REM tomorrow. I'm not THE world's biggest REm fan, but I like 'em, and I haven't been to a concert in over a year. So, rawk!