Thursday, January 06, 2005
My, my, my
Firstly, I should probably get up to speed by belatedly wishing everyone a merry Christmas and a happy new year. Soaking up homelife is endlessly refreshing and, obviously, quite a distraction from the mundane act of updating (which in previous months had become something of an academic pace keeping activity). One of my resolutions will hopefully benefit the reader, as I hope to veer back to the fun of my pre-graduate school posting, saturated with pictures, filth and sound storytelling. If I find the process a droning bore, in all liklihood so does everyone else.
After an initial rad snowstorm (which shut down the entire state for days), we quite suddenly snapped into two weeks of seventy degree weater accompanied all the while by rain and cloud cover. The Earth is supersaturated, rivers and creeks are flooding, and I only brought one pair of not-so-waterproof shoes. Sun, please come back out, I love you and it's warm.
The days leading to the new year became a grand reunion, with a horde of Mills High Schoolers descending upon Megan and Angie's sweet hilltop apartment for blankets and kitty time. The view of the city was particularly sublime after the blizzard had passed, everyone crowding onto the balcony in rounds to have a contemplative smoke ankle deep in powder. I forget howfantastically hushed this place is on an ordinary day, but when the weather sent everyone indoors, the muffled hiss of snow on snow and bamboo windchimes made a serene mis en scène for the twinkling lights for the downtown skyscrapers. Many thanks, M and A, for allowing your house to be ransacked by visitors from afar.
New Year's night at Whitewater was a sigh of relief, an "it's still there" moment after months of away, months of other. Runaway Planet played, making up for my missed Thanksgiving show, and even though Parachute Woman completely fucked up the new year countdown, 2005 arrived just fine. And drunk. The quick interset 'round-the-block blowout in Caleb's car made me feel even more giddily at home.
I'm sure there's more to tell, y'all, but let's just leave it at this for now. Here is calling, and if I want to make good on my resolution I need to get back to snagging incriminating, vile and entertaining photos.
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After an initial rad snowstorm (which shut down the entire state for days), we quite suddenly snapped into two weeks of seventy degree weater accompanied all the while by rain and cloud cover. The Earth is supersaturated, rivers and creeks are flooding, and I only brought one pair of not-so-waterproof shoes. Sun, please come back out, I love you and it's warm.
The days leading to the new year became a grand reunion, with a horde of Mills High Schoolers descending upon Megan and Angie's sweet hilltop apartment for blankets and kitty time. The view of the city was particularly sublime after the blizzard had passed, everyone crowding onto the balcony in rounds to have a contemplative smoke ankle deep in powder. I forget howfantastically hushed this place is on an ordinary day, but when the weather sent everyone indoors, the muffled hiss of snow on snow and bamboo windchimes made a serene mis en scène for the twinkling lights for the downtown skyscrapers. Many thanks, M and A, for allowing your house to be ransacked by visitors from afar.
New Year's night at Whitewater was a sigh of relief, an "it's still there" moment after months of away, months of other. Runaway Planet played, making up for my missed Thanksgiving show, and even though Parachute Woman completely fucked up the new year countdown, 2005 arrived just fine. And drunk. The quick interset 'round-the-block blowout in Caleb's car made me feel even more giddily at home.
I'm sure there's more to tell, y'all, but let's just leave it at this for now. Here is calling, and if I want to make good on my resolution I need to get back to snagging incriminating, vile and entertaining photos.
