In case you hadn't heard, my husband Alan and I are moving to New York.  Like, next week.  Breathe, Miriam, breathe...

For all you Chicago folks, this means an extremely low-maintenance going-away shindig at Friar Tuck's this Thursday night starting at about 8pm.  Shmooze and drinks and good times to be had by all.  Talk to me if you need details.

For everyone who didn't know, here's a little snippet to help clear things up:
And here, for good measure, is Stereo Sinai's latest tune featuring the truly incomparable, brilliant, and all-around mensch-ette Alicia Jo Rabins of Girls in Trouble on sumptuous violin.  I think you'll enjoy it.
My band, Stereo Sinai, is dropping an album this summer, and it's gonna be amazing.  Seriously, it's gonna rock your face off. 

But that aside, up until now Stereo Sinai has functioned as a downloads-only outfit.  The only way we've sold our songs is through our website.  When we first decided to go this route, I wrote a whole manifesto about it, but really all I needed to say was:

It is better for the environment.
It's cheaper for us (Stereo Sinai).
It's cheaper for you, when you're only buying the songs you want.
It's consumer empowerment-y.

The problem is, though, people kept asking us for CD's.  And we want to do album art.  And we need to have something to hand to people when they ask what cool band we're in.  And, to be honest, hardly anybody goes to to download music.  D'oh.

But then there are these goofballs, Pomplamoose, all single-handedly changing the music industry and whatnot.  I encourage you to read the article, but basically these two are a self-made band that never tours and never sells CDs and bought their house from mp3 sales.  Sheesh...these kids and their music. 

So what's a young indie band to do?  To disc, and shell out the money and apologize to the planet and hand our beautifullyover to that slick promoter, or not to disc, and risk wallowing in anonymity or, apparently, becoming indie-rock heroes?
Alan made this really amazing video to announce our move, and you should totally watch it.
Alan and I are beginning to feel a little overwhelmed about our impending move to New York.  On Sunday I sat down with a friend of my mom (a man whom she has described as one of the oddest people on the planet, but brilliant and kind) who gave me, among other things, a mortifying lecture about the horrors or American cockroaches and bedbug infestations in New York apartments.  But we have to get to New York and get an apartment before we can meet whatever six-legged tenants we may be sharing space with...

We have to move our books.  We have to move lots of things, but the books in particular are tough.  They have sentimental value - this one came from Bubbe, this one we found at that cute store in Austin, this is the one the cat peed on, etc.  They add warmth and a sense of home.  They also weigh a shit-ton and are going to kill us on moving expenses if we don't get rid of some.

As it turns out, I am far more willing to brutally ax my library than Alan is.  His philosophy is that a "maybe" should default to "yes."  Mostly I disagree and think that's a pretty good way to become a hoarder and cry on Oprah.  

But it's more complicated when it comes to Jewish books.  The "Jewish bookshelf," as my Scottish friend Martin loves to call it, is the centerpiece of a Jewish life.  It contains the wisdom of our people.  It's the source of questions and answers and more questions.  There's something special about just having them, whether or not they get read.

I think they should be used.  I think it would be better to donate the books to a synagogue, or a friend, make sure they're not lying waste and collecting dust, than to bring them for the sake of having them.  Alan is less amenable to this idea.  Ultimately, he is the one who delves into them, and we agreed he would have final say where Jewish books are concerned.  

But that doesn't make them any lighter.