Thurshday
Once more onto the coach, dear friends.
I boarded the number seven for downtown at approximately 9:00 and popped into town about fifteen minutes before the library opened, so I got to the bank for a little financial project (they'll never take me alive)
Wandered around Pike Place Market.
Some kind of celebration there this weekend, I believe.
I also believe that for every little drop of rain that falls, something gets wet.
At the Library, I loaded several more mp3s to my facebook site (Thank you Society of composers)
Then I forged onward, which is much easier than forging iron, especially since had neither coal nor bellows nor hammer with me.
I have been going to Caffe Ladro long enough that the sweet girl behind the counter knows my order, as do you, so there is no purpose served wasting time and keyboard reminding you.
Tall drip and peanut butter cookie.
Thence, as a matter of nostalgia, I decided that, in spite of the fact that I had just finished my morning carb'n'coffee, I might as well head off to the Pike Place Brewery for a nice spinach salad.
A meal which has important emotional significance for me.
The friendly girl directed me to the bar whereupon I felt it encumbant upon myself to order a nice XXXXX Stout after which a salad didn't seem appropriate.
So I ordered Fish and chips.
And it was good.
Those fish and chips.
Good.
The bartender turned out to be someone who used to sing in the choral with the SSO and with whom I've had conversation about the former choral "coordinator".
He thought he recognized me, and sure enough.
I brought him up to date on our mutual acquaintance.
I felt better for this as I walked to Capitol hill and my appointment with David, even though I've not been paying much heed to my musical muse lately.
Wait, Did I tell you about my waking dream this morning?
No I didn't
I had a dream this morning that I had made peace with someone with whom I've had a troubled relationship.
So the day started out nice to begin with.
And was made nicer by a pint of stout.
David loves my music, Ya, so do I, and so should you.
It's an entirely new type of music.
I'm ahead of my time.
Number nine bus home.
Cooked burgers for dinner
Popped open a litre of Corbel extra dry and celebrated the retirement of Meredith, whose official retirement is either today or tomorrow or something.
At least I think it was a litre, it might have been a liter, or even a quart, or a furlong for all I know.
So.
We had a really nice conversation about the Marx brothers, Gilda Radner, SNL and humor in general.
She's now in bed with her computer and I'm doing this.
I boarded the number seven for downtown at approximately 9:00 and popped into town about fifteen minutes before the library opened, so I got to the bank for a little financial project (they'll never take me alive)
Wandered around Pike Place Market.
Some kind of celebration there this weekend, I believe.
I also believe that for every little drop of rain that falls, something gets wet.
At the Library, I loaded several more mp3s to my facebook site (Thank you Society of composers)
Then I forged onward, which is much easier than forging iron, especially since had neither coal nor bellows nor hammer with me.
I have been going to Caffe Ladro long enough that the sweet girl behind the counter knows my order, as do you, so there is no purpose served wasting time and keyboard reminding you.
Tall drip and peanut butter cookie.
Thence, as a matter of nostalgia, I decided that, in spite of the fact that I had just finished my morning carb'n'coffee, I might as well head off to the Pike Place Brewery for a nice spinach salad.
A meal which has important emotional significance for me.
The friendly girl directed me to the bar whereupon I felt it encumbant upon myself to order a nice XXXXX Stout after which a salad didn't seem appropriate.
So I ordered Fish and chips.
And it was good.
Those fish and chips.
Good.
The bartender turned out to be someone who used to sing in the choral with the SSO and with whom I've had conversation about the former choral "coordinator".
He thought he recognized me, and sure enough.
I brought him up to date on our mutual acquaintance.
I felt better for this as I walked to Capitol hill and my appointment with David, even though I've not been paying much heed to my musical muse lately.
Wait, Did I tell you about my waking dream this morning?
No I didn't
I had a dream this morning that I had made peace with someone with whom I've had a troubled relationship.
So the day started out nice to begin with.
And was made nicer by a pint of stout.
David loves my music, Ya, so do I, and so should you.
It's an entirely new type of music.
I'm ahead of my time.
Number nine bus home.
Cooked burgers for dinner
Popped open a litre of Corbel extra dry and celebrated the retirement of Meredith, whose official retirement is either today or tomorrow or something.
At least I think it was a litre, it might have been a liter, or even a quart, or a furlong for all I know.
So.
We had a really nice conversation about the Marx brothers, Gilda Radner, SNL and humor in general.
She's now in bed with her computer and I'm doing this.
Labels: XXXXX
posted by Lane Savant at 8:22 PM
2 Comments:
As Groucho used to say,"Say the magic woid, and I'llgiveya' a hundred dollars!" I, of course, do not know what the magic word these days might be, should be, or is. Perhaps you should do a posting about Humor, with a capital "H". It is something that has been prevelant in your life all these many decades we have been friends. You were the one that convinced me Woody Allen was really an intellectual in comedian's clothing, and converted me to his films and self-deprecating humor. Come to think of it, it was YOU that forced me to go to my first foreign film, Polanski's KNIFE IN THE WATER, there in the U District, sometime in the early 60's, while I was still in high school I think, on one of our jaunts clear across town in Lucille.
You seem to be bumping into, or unearthing all sorts of folks who have some connection or other to SSO, or some derivative therein. I wonder if this means you will soon bury the hatchet with the Behemoth? Probably not, for they have deeply offended and hurt you, like bathing with stinking jellyfish; something you cannot soon forget.
For some reason, because going to Ivar's Fish Bar there on the waterfront, next to the fire boats, was a family outing in the 1950's, I have been partial to their fish and chips over all others; even the fish and chips I ate in Sydney could not compare, nor that in NYC or LA or joints in Canada. What a joy for me to come back from CA in 1984 and find that Ivar's had sold franchises, and their sea food was now hawked on divers corners all over the Puget Sound region.
Retirement looms large for many of we duffers and boomers out here. Although I did get a scare yesterday. Group Health for 2008 has mandated a 10% surcharge (coinsurance) on all treatments and office visits. Since my treatments actually cost 7 thousand bucks a month, suddenly I get a bill for $2,500 in the mail, covering my 10% charges for the first four months of 2008. And I will be levied a 700 buck charge for every month thereafter. It took our breath away for sure, but not much more than filling up my gas tank this morning for $4.15 for a gallon of regular; 13.225 gallons @ $55.00. God damn the pushermen, those oil baron assholes who hang out on the Bush Ranch in Texas laughing at us, and socking away their trillions of dollars of tax free profits. It is absurd, obscene, degrading, and disgusting--and there is not one damned thing that we can seem to do about it; like standing in the path of a tornado and screaming at it to stop; good luck.
My metaphysical energy treatments, however, are going fine. I actually am getting stronger, and am feeling better. By summer's end I will be unrecognizable; not. But perhaps I will begin to cheat the health whore mongers out of their grift by cutting down on those medical expenses. Ke Sera Sera, or some such whimsey.
Melva and I are headed out this afternoon for a weekend at Pac Beach. We do not know how many of these a year we will be able to afford now, but what will be, will be.
Glenn
Hallo, Lane!
David likes your music; he's a professional. I likew your music; I'm not a professional. Great that you appeal to both types; many composers appeal to only one of those two groups. See Andrew Lloyd Webber and Anton von Webern, for example.
Tschuess,
Anonomann
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