So what a weird month it's been. And as a result, you're gonna get the kind of demented, droning column that should be split up over a couple different months/topics, but I'm on a roll with my thoughts tonight, and as you'll EVENTUALLY read, it all sort of ties together loosely in the end.

As the faithful music nerd you guys most definitely know and expect me to be, October/November is officially the time when my thoughts turn to the releases of the past 10-11 months to prep for the big gonzo blowout End o' Year list-making extravaganza that we music fans cherish like little else. So why can't I get into it this year?

The answer is simple: I bought an mp3 player.

I'm writing this month's column in the midst of a heat wave, one forecasters say will probably break records for the highest temperature ever recorded in London, and has already helped this to be one of the hottest summers on record. While this means I work up a sweat by merely walking to the corner store and I'm subsisting solely on a diet of ice cream, it also plays nicely into what I planned to talk about this month - The Great Summer Album.

I'm lucky. I live in a city absolutely overflowing with music. I've got my choice of analogue and digital radio stations giving me more music than I can possibly ever listen to in a lifetime. There are so many quality gigs in a week that I often need to make a festival-esque "ooh, should I see X or Y?" decision just on a random Wednesday night. And perhaps best of all, I'm lucky enough to have a job where I listen to new music every day.

Right, let me switch gears here before you start throwing things...

So it finally happened. I knew it would one day... I just wasn't prepared for it this weekend.

I was sitting on the computer, doing my usual multi-task scenario of downloading tunes, talking to friends, and working on site-related stuff... when a random instant message came across my screen.

Many of you on the list heard my yelps of joy last week when I found out I had been picked to be in a Bluetones video. They're probably my favourite band - I've been a member of the Blue Army for five years, seen them live eleven times (nine of those in one year), met the band so many times I have nothing left that *isn't* signed, and even been to a few fanclub-only and secret gigs.

January is a bastard wasteland of a month. It's cold, wet, and miserable outside, you've got no money left after December's parties-n-gifts overindulgences, and (perhaps the most important point), January is where music goes to die.

2002... The Year of Plastic.

What the hell has happened to music?

When I was in high school and college, I was perpetually bitching about music. If I'd have had foresight, I woulda kept my mouth shut.

RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! THE GOTHS ARE COMING!

I realize it’s been a while since my last missive, but I had to come back to warn you all of this terrible danger.

What I tell you may be hard to believe. But it’s the truth. And it’s a danger that could very well be lurking right here… in your hometown… maybe even… your… very… home.

GOTHS are apparantly attempting to take over Missouri.

Do you consider yourself an opinionated twat? Are you up for mass notoriety or perhaps throngs of indie blokes/babes hanging on your every word?

We are currently in the market for new monthly columnists for Excellent Online!

What's expected: One column per month, (yes, I know, pot calling the kettle black here, I realize) on any music or indie lifestyle-related topic you see fit. We have NO length requirements whatsoever. All we ask is that if you come on-board, PLEASE be prepared to follow through on your one-column-per-month commitment.

So... where have I been?

I’ve actually been getting e-mails to that effect, which creeps me out, ‘coz it makes me feel like I’ve actually got fans and then my head starts to swell. Which is a condition that, despite the momentary fun, is easily remedied by taking one step out of my apartment and seeing Iowa in the distance. The end game is, no one can be cool when they live where I live, so I’ll feel free to tread the self-deprecating path until people finally agree with me that I truly am little more than an insignificant ant in the schism we call Earth.