![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Weather over the weekend promises to be wretchedly, absurdly cold. By wretchedly, I mean "far too cold for cold blooded lizard people like myself who bask in sunlight and warm weather." Seriously though, there's lots of rain that has already started to fall here and a cold front straight from Canada it sounds like. Oklahoma, Kansas and the Pnahandle are turning into an ice skating rink as I type. The weather folk are even predicting a strong chance of ice & snow here in the Monday-Tuesday time.
All of this means I should go to the grocery store for more cocoa powder so I can have a steady supply of alcoholic hot chocolate all weekend.
That Gary Numan song "Down in the Park" has been stuck in my head for days. (Hence the title of this post which has nothing to do with anything.) Actually I should say the Marilyn Manson cover of said song has been stuck in my head for days. I looked up the lyrics for the first time, just to confirm that the line really was written as I thought I heard. A terribly strange song, that one.
Reading LJ today I came across a phrase I haven't heard anyone use in awhile but remains one of those classic, iconic sorts of things in memory. Texas is well known for the big, big hair and one of the best things I've ever heard about that peculiar fashion is "the higher the hair, the closer to heaven." I love, love, love that sentence.
Work has been very busy. (Then the exchange server crashed and there was a great cry of madness but I digress.) Sometimes I feel like I'm in some Lovecraft novel and some nameless creeping horror from outer space is about to descend on us all. It's not dread exactly, but something like it. Maybe I have just been reading too much science fiction this month. Maybe it is just a habit of writing overwrought sentences.
I have resolved to keep track of how many books I read this year, and need to start that list.
Yesterday I stood in the parking lot talking to Sarah about how we've come to the age where we realize our life is not at all what we imagined it would be when we were young. (At ten, twenty six seems so far ahead.) We also discussed the awkwardness of making contingency plans, of working out what is necessary so that we don't abandon the things we desire most. Hard, hard decisions to make and made all the worse because you feel so completely alone when you think about it.
I try to tell myself that life doesn't really start til you're fourty and that Moscow would be disappointed if I cried now.
All of this means I should go to the grocery store for more cocoa powder so I can have a steady supply of alcoholic hot chocolate all weekend.
That Gary Numan song "Down in the Park" has been stuck in my head for days. (Hence the title of this post which has nothing to do with anything.) Actually I should say the Marilyn Manson cover of said song has been stuck in my head for days. I looked up the lyrics for the first time, just to confirm that the line really was written as I thought I heard. A terribly strange song, that one.
Reading LJ today I came across a phrase I haven't heard anyone use in awhile but remains one of those classic, iconic sorts of things in memory. Texas is well known for the big, big hair and one of the best things I've ever heard about that peculiar fashion is "the higher the hair, the closer to heaven." I love, love, love that sentence.
Work has been very busy. (Then the exchange server crashed and there was a great cry of madness but I digress.) Sometimes I feel like I'm in some Lovecraft novel and some nameless creeping horror from outer space is about to descend on us all. It's not dread exactly, but something like it. Maybe I have just been reading too much science fiction this month. Maybe it is just a habit of writing overwrought sentences.
I have resolved to keep track of how many books I read this year, and need to start that list.
Yesterday I stood in the parking lot talking to Sarah about how we've come to the age where we realize our life is not at all what we imagined it would be when we were young. (At ten, twenty six seems so far ahead.) We also discussed the awkwardness of making contingency plans, of working out what is necessary so that we don't abandon the things we desire most. Hard, hard decisions to make and made all the worse because you feel so completely alone when you think about it.
I try to tell myself that life doesn't really start til you're fourty and that Moscow would be disappointed if I cried now.