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quislibetIt's a Loreena McKennitt sort of day.
Well, right now it is; earlier it was an "In The Nursery" sort of day, and then an "Eclectic Mix CD with things like Felidae Chant and David Bowie and Björk and Chromavoid and the B52s and Corvus Corax" sort of day.
And yet the day itself has been more or less the same the whole time. What could that mean?
Who knows what sort of day it will be when this CD is over? I cannot see so far into the future, but I can guess that some sort of shovel-against-sidewalk noise will come up at some point.
It is, non-musically, also a Nescafé Frappé moment. Others, however, may disagree with that whole iced-coffee-on-a-blizzardy-afternoon thing.
For our one social outing of the weekend, in a weekend with many options ranging from somewhat expensive to far away, J. and I went down to the Allston-Brighton area last night (I haven't been there in ages) for mediocre pizza and good company in honor of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
madphysicist's birthday. I did not, however, see any fightin' uruk-hai, although possibly unsound found macabre evidence of their having been in the area.
We had thought about going to see Rasputina tonight, but it's just as well that we decided against it, what with it being postponed and all.
Well. This is sort of a non-entry, isn't it? And yet you are reading it, if in fact you are. I will reward you with the mental image ofvicissitude as a member of the Rolling Stones, as in a dream I had Saturday night. Perhaps it was a prophetic dream, meant to suggest that I would, within 24 hours, be sitting in a bar with a cartoon image of Mick Jagger on the television behind me, across the table from a guy I know who went to high school with V.
If so, it was a pretty pointless prophetic dream.
Right now the house smells as if beef stew were being cooked, and no wonder.
Happy belated torojagato.
Well, right now it is; earlier it was an "In The Nursery" sort of day, and then an "Eclectic Mix CD with things like Felidae Chant and David Bowie and Björk and Chromavoid and the B52s and Corvus Corax" sort of day.
And yet the day itself has been more or less the same the whole time. What could that mean?
Who knows what sort of day it will be when this CD is over? I cannot see so far into the future, but I can guess that some sort of shovel-against-sidewalk noise will come up at some point.
It is, non-musically, also a Nescafé Frappé moment. Others, however, may disagree with that whole iced-coffee-on-a-blizzardy-afternoon thing.
For our one social outing of the weekend, in a weekend with many options ranging from somewhat expensive to far away, J. and I went down to the Allston-Brighton area last night (I haven't been there in ages) for mediocre pizza and good company in honor of
madphysicist's birthday. I did not, however, see any fightin' uruk-hai, although possibly unsound found macabre evidence of their having been in the area. We had thought about going to see Rasputina tonight, but it's just as well that we decided against it, what with it being postponed and all.
Well. This is sort of a non-entry, isn't it? And yet you are reading it, if in fact you are. I will reward you with the mental image of
vicissitude as a member of the Rolling Stones, as in a dream I had Saturday night. Perhaps it was a prophetic dream, meant to suggest that I would, within 24 hours, be sitting in a bar with a cartoon image of Mick Jagger on the television behind me, across the table from a guy I know who went to high school with V. If so, it was a pretty pointless prophetic dream.
Right now the house smells as if beef stew were being cooked, and no wonder.
Happy belated to
rojagato.
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Date: 2003-02-17 08:11 pm (UTC)Thanks. :)