So Dervala says that Richard Thompson is playing at the Fillmore tomorrow (Friday) night. It's tempting - but I have other plans (going to see "Everything Is Illuminated" with a couple of friends), and I am not sure I am in the right frame of mind to see him anyway. The songs of his that I love the most are powerfully sad. Even the upbeat ones I like sound like threats, the way he sings them. I think he would just slay me if I went to listen to him; it would probably take me at least a week to recover.
All done with The Order of the Phoenix. Good recap; I really hadn't remembered half the story. I think I would have been lost if I'd attempted to delve right into the ... umh, what's the latest one called again? Oh yeah, The Half-Blood Prince. (Had to look it up. Thank God for the interweb!)
Now what? I don't really feel like picking up the other three novels I have in the works. I still haven't started on either of the books Chris and Kate have given me for my birthday. Or the German novel my mom sent me a while back. Maybe I'll get back to my John LeCarré series and start over with his Perfect Spy.
Or I'll try Fight Club which I bought a couple of months ago and completely forgot about. Chris was talking about another Palahniuk novel, Haunted, and told me not to read it. And after hearing his reasons why, I truly won't.
But Fight Club, yes, definitely. I loved the movie (surprised myself by how much I liked it, actually). And several people who have seen the movie and read the book said the book is even better.
I am seething today. I am so mad that I couldn't even finish my coffee, because my stomach already felt like it was being perforated by alien acid. Bought another half gallon of milk, and I am certain I will have it finished by the end of the day. Oh, and the treadmill is in for a world of hurt this afternoon.
It's not you I am mad at (I think I know what it is, but I would rather be tortured than give it up), but you best stay out of my way today. I'm in a mood to pick a fight, and I might say something I'll regret later.
Every little thing is pissing me off. Traffic was a bitch. The school bus almost clipping me REALLY didn't help. If you were going to get together with me, and forgot all about it, well, fuck it then! I'm just fine by myself, thankyouveryfuckingmuch. If you promised to get back to me about something and you haven't, don't bother; you can't possibly do right by me today. But you never call and you never write anyway, so what fucking difference does it make?
... but Hardly Strictly Bluegrass they can do. Steve Earle ... Patty Griffin ... Robert Earl Keen ... Rodney Crowell ... Dolly Parton ... Emmylou Harris ... Guy Clark ... Rosanne Cash ... The Austin Lounge Lizards ... I may just have to go. It's in Golden Gate Park, and it's free.
Chris mentioned it Saturday night, when we were sitting in the hot tub, and Dolly Parton started wailing from the stereo. And now Dervala brings it up. And adds that Richard Thompson is going to be at the Fillmore. Hmmmm .... that's this Friday. Not sure if I can swing that.
Note to self: Read up on the codling moth and how to get it under control.
My coworker Allen is in the local Master Gardeners Program and knows everything there is to know about gardening. He pointed me here to get started. Sounds like a fair amount of work, but I'll try to nip it in the bud for next year. It is much worse than it was last year. I can hardly find any apple without moth damage, and I don't want that trend to continue. I know you're all counting on me for apple pie.
[Sigh. I miss Chappo. What a great song. What an incredible singer!]