Artist	Song
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists	Annunciation Day/Born on Christmas Day
Foo Fighters	My Hero
Pearl Jam	Alive
Ani Difranco	Out of Range (electric)
The Dismemberment Plan	Following Through
John Vanderslice	Plymouth Rock
Great Lakes Myth Society	Days of Apple Pie
American Mars	If Monday Were Mine
Gomez	We Haven't Turned Around
Keane	Nothing in My Way
The Whitlams	Charlie No. 1
Lloyd Cole and the Commotions	Are You Ready to Be Heartbroken?
The Hold Steady	Citrus
Rogue Wave	Lake Michigan
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists	The Sons of Cain
The Arcade Fire	Rebellion (Lies)
Alice in Chains	God Smack
Modest Mouse	Parting of the Sensory

Comment:

"Hold on, Barb, your lunch break will have to wait."

"Oh, come on, Jon," she whined in response. But she had already doubled back to the monitor and was reading the notification. "Hmm... Room 219... that's the Alzheimer's patient. Well, Jon, looks like you're coming with me."

"Oh? What now?", he asked, matching her swift pace.

"Backup. Playing it safe. Room 219 had a visitor log in twenty minutes ago. Illegible, can't quite make it out. Probably just his wife, although she usually doesn't come in this early..."

"Oh yeah, there was one visitor. Younger-looking man, though. Son, maybe?"

"Mmm, no, couldn't be. One son never made it home from Iraq or Afghanistan, forget which. And the other died in some sort of boating accident along with his wife and son."

"Jesus. That's harsh. Does he remember?"

"Nah, it's fairly advanced. God works in mysterious ways, huh?"

"What? Yeah, sure, mysteriously medioc-"

Jon was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass and the faint sound of a man's yell.

"Crap, I think that's the room."

They rushed down to 219 and threw the door open.
"...think you can come in here and start lecturing me on my shortcomings, my heartlessness?! When you're the one who abandoned the love of God Himself?! Where the hell do you-"

"Mr. Callahan, please calm down!," Barb pleaded. "Are you hurt? Did he attack you?"

"I, uh...NO, I'm fine!"

"I ducked," said the expressionless, young, clean-cut man, standing in front of the shattered mirror. A clock radio lay on the ground amidst the shards.

"Listen, uh... sir," Jon sputtered, "you'll have to wait out in the lobby until we resolve this."

"Nah... what's the use," said the young man, "I'll just leave." Without another word, he did so. The old man's resumed cries echoed down the hall as Barb and Jon tried to calm him down. "Stupid little punk... why can't you be more like Abe... idiot godless punk... where's Mikey..."

Tommy took the local highway toward I-94, which would take him eastbound to a much more pleasant reunion with the other parent. "But just as pointless," he thought. And with that thought, he drove a little further and took the westbound entrance ramp.

"I don't know... just somewhere... somewhere else," he responded to a silent question as he merged onto the fast lane.

Mix #69, a vacillation, made in September of 2007.

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