Today was ( and is, as, if I have not yet gone to sleep I do not consider a day to have passed until I go to sleep…which reeks havoc on me during finals…) my own, personal Bloomsday; so I shall describe it, in kind. Rainy days are always days good for Counting Crows. Not so big on the birds, but the band ( I was hoping you’d notice the capitalization). This seemed to be an astute observation as the day was grey and reasonably melancholy, not bad per se, but melancholy. I did dishes and laundry today, which proves that animals (or husbands) can be domesticated. Following this I worked on some school stuff and read a bit of Walter Cronkites autobiography (it’s hard being in grad-school when your primary hobby is reading, so…I try to throw in some light reading occasionally.
I went to my friendly-local-neighborhood-coffee-house to see an accoustic act (Jacob Johnson). I’m pretty sure I was the only XY without an XX. Heather was out watching sheep (while eating her curds and way…no less…wait…) since the wee hours of the morning. Regardless, I enjoyed myself. Johnsons playing can be described as quirky, virtuostic and times purely masterbatory. It is clear that at times the only person who is enjoying whatever rabbit hole of a riff he has gone off into. That being said the quirky, generally upbeat and fun nature of the music makes the show Good, its the showmanship that makes it great.
That being said and done, I drove through the rain and came home and clipped some coupons and am at present working on making spaghetti sauce- from tomatoes. It’s been an interesting day. I’ve gotten a lot done, and its been rainy. Yeah. Good night.
