Three day weekend (though I have to go into the office on one day, most likely Monday, to finish up some things and clean my desk for the new month): what to do?
I'm tempted to go into Manhattan, if one of my friends is playing at The Red Lion this afternoon -- would be nice to listen to him for a while. Tomorrow, I think, will be spent being domestic: replacing light bulbs, vacuuming up sawdust and mopping, cleaning my desk, and perhaps writing a bit. And the gym again. Must go back to the gym. Soren's been cleaning today, and has made valiant headway against the forces of kipple: there's actually floor space in the living room and a clean table, instead of mounds of books and papers and strange objects. I, to do my part, have washed a stack of dishes.
(Yeah, yeah, the kitchen table is covered with books, CDs, fountain pens in various states of readiness, jewelry, bottles of herbal liqueurs, elephants, and a leering drunken stoat, but that's normal around here. Do I look like a Martha Stewart clone to you?)
The morning has been good: catching up with online worlds, listening to music (I was sorry to read about Lionel Hampton's death, and we've been playing some of his albums), talking with Soren, discussing the latest saga of Mixerman vs. the Mooks*, and such. We'll probably drop in at Barbes tonight, and merrily music geek with Jeff and Olivier (when did "geek" become a verb?)
Perhaps it will rain again this weekend. I would like to walk in warm summer rain, holding Soren's hand, with our freshly shaved heads.
* Mixerman vs. the Mooks, or, How Records Are Really Made
I'm tempted to go into Manhattan, if one of my friends is playing at The Red Lion this afternoon -- would be nice to listen to him for a while. Tomorrow, I think, will be spent being domestic: replacing light bulbs, vacuuming up sawdust and mopping, cleaning my desk, and perhaps writing a bit. And the gym again. Must go back to the gym. Soren's been cleaning today, and has made valiant headway against the forces of kipple: there's actually floor space in the living room and a clean table, instead of mounds of books and papers and strange objects. I, to do my part, have washed a stack of dishes.
(Yeah, yeah, the kitchen table is covered with books, CDs, fountain pens in various states of readiness, jewelry, bottles of herbal liqueurs, elephants, and a leering drunken stoat, but that's normal around here. Do I look like a Martha Stewart clone to you?)
The morning has been good: catching up with online worlds, listening to music (I was sorry to read about Lionel Hampton's death, and we've been playing some of his albums), talking with Soren, discussing the latest saga of Mixerman vs. the Mooks*, and such. We'll probably drop in at Barbes tonight, and merrily music geek with Jeff and Olivier (when did "geek" become a verb?)
Perhaps it will rain again this weekend. I would like to walk in warm summer rain, holding Soren's hand, with our freshly shaved heads.
* Mixerman vs. the Mooks, or, How Records Are Really Made