PJ Harvey rocks. How come I've never listened to her before this year? Every album is different; every album is wonderful.
I read a story in the Oregonian yesterday about a taxi driver named Red Diamond who was protesting kickbacks other cab drivers pay to hotel doormen. In the late 1980s, Portland writer Mark Schorr had a mystery series featuring a cab driver named Red Diamond. The fictional Red reads a lot of the PI novels, and after an accident, he wakes up and thinks he is one.
Maybe I'm just tired, but it feels like fiction is bleeding into reality.