The Long Dance Good-night

the better to bore you with, my dear

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63° = 180°
Half the fun of having Netflix is slowly working through the queue of over 50 items I furiously compiled when I first set this up, to the point that the next thing delivered is often a pleasant surprise. That said, I really need to sit down with Synecdoche, NY and Touch of Evil (referred to as the real Welles masterpiece by at least one reputable source) and get them sent back already; I just realized the next two movies in my queue are Tideland and The Forbidden Zone and I've been wanting to see both for the longest time. I'm sure I can find the hours for it this week if I try ever so hard. But there's a remix being done on a deadline for a compilation, vocals to record once my voice claws its way back up from under this pile of sick, keyboard lines to run through at least once more for security's sake before Thursday, and a used "pre-owned" copy of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas that's gradually sucking me into longer and longer bouts of play as more of its possibilities become available (seriously guys, turf wars FTW. Well done on that one). Not to mention the cache of Bella Morte proto-material that, believe it or not, awaits my input.

But with spring comes a renewed sense of purpose and dedication to the tasks at hand. And spring is most definitely here. Any evidence to the contrary is merely holdover and not here for long (gam zeh ya'avor). Well into the 60s for most of this week and I've driven around with the heat off and the windows cracked at least twice now. For the time being I'll forgo attempts to voice how grateful I am for this, as digging back into my malaise of the past few weeks might damage my present capacity for simple reveling.

(I'm also, coincidentally, coasting on the momentum of Q4 course books being less-or-more "done," a few stragglers aside.)

Plenty more that I'm sure I'm forgetting to dredge up on this fine day, considering the coffee and my generally good humour already have their hands full keeping me powered on 2 hours of sleep (again: the turf war concept is inspired!). Off to Umlaut tonight after 2 weeks missed on account of assorted flavors of fatigue. Will probably nap through LOST but that's why God gave us tomorrow.

...and it looks like I won't be recapping the Muse show either. Which is okay seeing as how it, and its fulfillment of every expectation and every bit of (justly or unjustly) prescribed gravity, transcended description. Observe:

(photo by Dea, who it was very lovely to meet that night by the way)


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