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A little summer cleaning. What with today being the ninth day of summer, and that having absolutely no relevance or significance to me, I would like to note the following:

Thing one: I do not care how many times you tell me that humid heat is better than dry heat, it simply is not true. Humid heat makes you wilt, takes away your will to live. Dry heat bores a hole in your skull and sucks the moisture out of your brain, but a dry, dessicated brain is better than a wilty everything. I used to live in Washington, DC, and recently spent a week in melty Buenos Aires. Chileans, stop deceiving yourselves, you got the better end of the heat stick (though not the sun stick, which bears no resemblance to a rain stick, I’m afraid).

Thing two: I made it all the way through past Christmas without eating any, but yesterday, at a synogogue of all places, I had my first piece of Pan de Pascua (vaguely similar to fruitcake, but not really) of the season. It was clovey and had lots of nuts in it, and the people at his progressive synogogue were pretty awesomely nice and the music and discussion were lovely, including Roma (as in Gypsy, not as in Rome)-inspired Nómade, which I can’t seem to find a link for at the moment. I find a link to another group with the same name, but the sound isn’t the same.

Thing three: I am digitizing my music collection and getting rid of a boatload of CDs, most of them recorded from my originals which are somewhere in the universe in a box. If you live in Santiago and are dying for some new-to-you music, talk to me baby.

Thing four: I also have a stack of books that is ready to go to new owners. How should I handle this? should I create a blog post so you can see what they are, and let me know what you want? In my brain there was a googledoc and we all participated, but then my brain got dessicated from the boring (as in drilling, not as in fome) sun, and today is weirdly overcast, but you know what I mean. If anyone wants to googledoc a Santiago book exchange, let me know and I’ll pimp that doc. Otherwise I’ll just look at my coffee table in sadness, wondering why it won’t empty itself.

Thing five: There is thing five.