October 19th, 2003

Roadkill

(no subject)

It's craptastical outside — raining with temps in the forties. I feel just as crappy. I thought maybe it was just lack of sleep, but my stomach's unsettled, too. Feh. May just curl up in front of the tube with some DVDs.

Had dinner at ocvictor and myainsel's house yesterday, then we went to Somerville to see Peter Mulvey and Kris Delmhorst in concert. Didn't know anything about either artist, but the show was fun. The only negative was that the audio was kind of muddy, making it hard for me to pick up Mulvey's (especially) voice out of the instrumentals, which makes it hard when you're not familiar with the songs. Both artists had great backing bands. Mulvey's got a phenomenal guitarist. I felt bad for Delmhorst's bassist, because midway through their set, his bass fiddle, which at the time was leaning on it's instrument stand, fell over with a thump. The neck snapped off the body. Fortunately, the bassist noted that it was a clean break, so it would be an easy repair. Jeez...

Weird ass coincidence of the day — I didn't know who was going to be playing with Mulvey before we got to the theatre last night. This morning, I happened to glance at the copy of Paste, a music mag, that's been sitting on my desk, lying open to the same page for about a week now, and in the lower right corner of the page is an ad for Delmhorst's new album, Songs for a Hurricane.
  • Current Music
    "Cooksferry Queen" -- Richard Thompson
Roadkill

Reason #341 Why I Hate Naps...

So my afternoon. Felt crappy, so I put Much Ado About Nothing in the DVD player, and curled up under a blanket on the couch to watch. Next thing I know I'm waking up, everybody on screen is married, they're singing "Hey nonny, nonny," and there's all sorts of flashing lights right outside my living room window. Further (very groggy) investigation revealed a fire engine idling right in front of my house, along with a rescue truck and a police car, which were parked in front of the neighbor's house diagonally across the street. Then they all left, and I have no idea what the hell was going on, other than a vague suspicion that perhaps Kenneth Branagh found out I was sleeping during one of his movies and decided that just wouldn't do.
  • Current Mood
    bedward bound