My "big news" has to wait a little longer, but you're welcome to read between the lines. Many ventures in my life tend to resolve around five years. And then that will be that.

Will write about my own reasons soon, but for now, you should check out the latest issue of *suture.

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My summer in the States is almost over. Leave Lex this weekend, to see my family and some old friends down south, and then to fly back across the Atlantic for another year in the Middle East.

Looking forward to going back, actually. My art computer is there, and dying to get back to work. And it will be nice to get paid again. Been broke all summer, after paying off all my consumer debt with the previous year's earnings. So this year will start putting money in the bank (and hopefully soon, a Swiss bank).

But this summer has been good. Miss Biz and I are closer than ever, and have loved so much of our time together. She's a very special cat. All my friends compliment her on her personality, and I hope someday to take the picture that does her justice, and makes her my most beautiful model.

My allergies have been the worst thing about returning to North America. Haven't suffered them so badly since 1992 or so. The Middle East is plenty dusty, but it's not organic. So it spoiled me in an unexpected way. And dry heat is a lot less draining than humid heat (though July was unexpectedly beautiful here).

The coolest aspect of the vacation has been my rediscovery of music. Been on a long slope for years of listening less, and stewing in silence more, but this summer has become a turning point. Excited about the daily vitality of music like I have not been in a very long time, from both old treasures and new discoveries. Ripping it all onto a hard drive and then filling gaps in my collection has rejuvenated me on many levels.

For example, I had no idea that Sonic Youth could kick my ass again so freshly as Murray Street. Had expected for years that the first two Beatles would sound relatively primitive, but have been amazed at the quality of their earliest material. (The first two were the last two that I needed for a complete collection.) David Byrne's Look Into the Eyeball and Beck's The Information are both really solid new entries to the canon. Definitely waited too long to enjoy Laurie Anderson's delicately quirky Life on a String. And Nick Cave's Grinderman project has been a revelation, such teeth and velocity.

But the highlight has definitely been Eric Bachmann and Crooked Fingers. Have enjoyed the initial Crooked Fingers album for years, for its post-Waits sense of loss and sadness ("She Spread Her Legs and Flew Away..."), but always thought it was a one-off project. Was stunned this summer to discover much more had been released.

I'd recommend Bachmann to anyone who enjoys clever wistful wordplay and melody with a rich sense of texture. The first Crooked Fingers is haunting and often tragic, amazing accompaniment for late lonely night (with only one upbeat track that always seems out of place to me, right after a transcendently liquid opener). Bachmann's 2005 solo album, To the Races, would be good if you like spare minimal instrumentation with a beautiful morning feel. The third Crooked Fingers, Red Devil Dawn, is probably the most accessible, upbeat and friendly, great for a sunny afternoon.

But the fourth record, Dignity & Shame, has been the outstanding discovery of my whole summer, a sweet sundown record of amazing variety and texture, a couple of thunderous rockers, and the most bittersweet heartbreak duet that I've ever heard. (Lara Meyerratken adds wonderful harmony to much of the album, but her role in "Sleep All Summer" is positively magical.) There's one countrified track that sounds a little skew to me, but the overall gestalt of tempos and moods works amazingly well. And it's well worth cranking and basking in all its textures and surprises, right from the opening edge-of-your-seat tension track.

So of all the music that I could point your way, that's at the top of my mind.

Though I shouldn't forget to point you toward Once, if it's still showing at a theatre near you, surely the most intimate musical in the history of film. (I saw it three times and can hardly wait for the DVD.)

Or, as I said, if you wanna get your ass blistered, check out the Grinderman album.

But for now, I'm packing up and resolving last loose ends.

And then I'll probably write one more journal entry in a couple weeks, once all my ducks have all marched out in a row.