'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

another thick air night

The heat has returned.

It's Monday night. Kittens romp. The two bigger ones get snipped in the a.m.

I watched the end of an unfortunate choice of film from the library. Nuts. Streisand. Really ridiculous. But, I dunno. I'd watched the beginning. And, I dunno.

Got to be token dyke today, a little. "Got" not the best choice of word there.

The black kitten just walked across the keyboard and changed the icon for this post to my "on the road" one. What the hell. Stet. It's a good suggestion. My new horoscope says "stop making an extreme sacrifice you've been doing for a long time. The gods no longer demand it of you; it serves no holy purpose; and there's a milder and more useful sacrifice you can make instead." Is the give-it-up sacrifice not getting out of Dodge? Kinda want it to be something else. Moreover, what's the milder and more useful sacrifice? The question is whether to speculate from a place of desire---as one might be said to be doing with interpretation via wishful thinking. Which, I kinda figure, is Brezsny's bread & butter. I mean, that's hypnotism, sussing out what's wanted in the heart, or getting you to suss it out yourself. All the vague (and vaguely deep-sounding) astrologer needs is a reader who wants to be optimistic, despite the myriad reasons one might have not to be.

Speaking of stet (I was speaking of stet up there somewhere): who wants to give a shout-out to scrawlspace, new in these parts? Hello, scrawler. You should check your horoscope. It's a good one this week.

'Sonly droppin' to 72 overnight. Rats. In two days, though, it'll be mild, when I'm outside at a ballgame instead of pretending to work. Er, I mean instead of working my arse off, as I do by the minute all day long when at the office.

What would I play if I were on UREZ, I-95 Radio tonight? Got no music on at all right now. WTF. Let us correct that situation forthwith.

Expression to ponder: ridden roughshod over. To ride over roughshod. Like that one? I rather do.

Alright, I'll play ya'll a song. Or two. Two songs (sort of) about men. But not really. Really it's all about the women. You feel me, sistahzz? (Lemme hear y' say: "Always!")

  .mp3  -->   "A Guy is a Guy" -- Doris Day (1952)
  .mp3  -->   "It Must Be Him" -- Vikki Carr (1966)

(The noise in the Vikki Carr dies down after a bit.) (The Vikki Carr record belonged to my father.) (The Doris Day song is from the second vinyl copy of her Greatest Hits I bought, cuz [Prof.] Bob Day "borrowed" the first one & wouldn't give it back. The bastahd.)

Hey, maybe the unnecessary sacrifice is simply not having high speed internet access. And cable. And a new mattress. And a fixed-up bike. But not air conditioning. No air conditioning is a good sacrifice, I'm pretty sure. Just not so much on a few nights here and there.

Dang. Just remembered again: I kinda need to do the deck. I am so not into doing the deck.

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