Gawd
Another friend just got (secretly) married. I'm gonna die alone.
Congrats to Jena and Vinnie, you crazy kids.
In other news, I've taken my guitar out of dusty areas. Going to try to do something recording like with it this time. I have lots of ideas. Why is it none of those ideas ever make it to that stage where I want to share?
I'm told my Dad used to collect radios and radio parts when he was alive, like this one. My uncle is keeping one for me that looks slightly like this, but is twice the width. When I grow up and have a house like all the other big people, I can have it. I had a dream about a radio last night. My uncle Hartley was there. He works at the O'Connor mushroom farm in Hillsborough with uncle Grant. I love mushrooms.
Why isn't radio worth listening to anymore? All the magic and intellect has gone out of it. Why has entertainment (what passes for entertainment) replaced substance? People just want to be entertained, in spite of anything else. Value no longer has meaning. Kids can't even spell "moral" anymore.
Anyone know where I can buy a Victrola?
Congrats to Jena and Vinnie, you crazy kids.
In other news, I've taken my guitar out of dusty areas. Going to try to do something recording like with it this time. I have lots of ideas. Why is it none of those ideas ever make it to that stage where I want to share?
I'm told my Dad used to collect radios and radio parts when he was alive, like this one. My uncle is keeping one for me that looks slightly like this, but is twice the width. When I grow up and have a house like all the other big people, I can have it. I had a dream about a radio last night. My uncle Hartley was there. He works at the O'Connor mushroom farm in Hillsborough with uncle Grant. I love mushrooms.
Why isn't radio worth listening to anymore? All the magic and intellect has gone out of it. Why has entertainment (what passes for entertainment) replaced substance? People just want to be entertained, in spite of anything else. Value no longer has meaning. Kids can't even spell "moral" anymore.
Anyone know where I can buy a Victrola?
posted by MissWanda at 10:46 a.m.
5 Comments:
Baby--How the bleep did this news make it to Montréal? A little blond bird with the initials KJ perhaps?
It's been fun checking up on you via your blog since you left us Ottawa folks. I didn't expect to see my name popping up here though!
Yes, it's true. I eloped in a politically correct yet oddly romantic City Hall ceremony at approxiamtely 11:30 a.m. on Tuesday November 1. Me getting married really does mean that anything is possible.....
JB(L)
Jena, love: little birdies are everywhere, peering inside your love treehouse. I'm pleased to hear you picked the first. A good time to make decisions, at the beginnings. You getting married means a lot of things. Boy. I miss our Carleton days, ass hats and kitchen dancing. Will things ever be as good?
How could we have known that the Carelton days would be magic when we looked back on them? If we knew at the time, would we have held onto them tighter? I don't know. I think we still would have found ourselves too drunk to be in public at 12:30 and slipped off into the night.
There was a precious nonchalance about the whole phase though, wasn't there? Everyone came together with no purpose other than coming together. Kitchen dancing and niblets often lead to that group trip down the rickety back stairs that took us to the land of quarts when the the fridge is empty. Good times indeed.
As lovely as a firefly is, you can't keep it in a jar forever. You have either to let it go, or watch it expire. We let it go, but all of us remember how wonderful it was when we had it.
I'm with you in spirit baby. You must feel that.
Jena
Hey cutes--can you fix up my inexcusable typos in sentence seven? It's gonna bug me. Stupid anonymous.
"Kitchen dancing and niblets often lead to that group trip down the rickety back stairs that took us to the land of quarts when the fridge was empty."
Love,
Me
Is, was...whatever. When we does it, we does it well.
"too drunk to be in public"
sigh.
Those days ain't over. Not where I'm going. You're invited too. Never forget that. One day we'll be together again. Tresspassing through someone's yard, life, whatever. 'Slong as the end result remains the same.
Love how we're using the blog to communicate. Who knew technology would be the link that bound.
It ain't over til it's over. And I ain't no firefly. You either. Don't forget that, now that you've gone and gotten yourself all hitched up.
Have babies. Tell them about poetry. The link will never be broken.
LOVE.
w
Post a Comment
<< Home