It's The End of the World as We Know it (and I feel fine) is Our Song. In the circumstances of our courtship, this seemed perfectly reasonable. Reminded of it today, and it still seems apt. Unromantic, but very Us.
Keep wanting to figure out how to plot my Fortean Novel of the Post Apocalypse, still stuck. Not about to be raptured, wouldn't want to spend five minutes with those folks who think they will be, not to mention eternity. Anyone wanting more eternity than this moment has clearly not thought it through.
Crashing, rolling thunder through in the wee hours of Friday, and Moby leaning against my leg didn't stir. Extremely unusual, to the point that I strained to feel any movement, breathing. Eventually he stirred slightly, to my relief. Apparently just utterly crashed, too asleep to care even about lightening and thunder. D never heard it either. And yes, I did check noaa, to confirm that it had happened.
Strange dreams about The Queen having died, and I got an informal tour of her apartment that was under renovation. Nice place, but not an interesting view out the large windows. Turned out she was alive, and I told her my view in Boston was much better. She was doing very difficult acrostic/number crossword puzzles with Stephen Fry, in pencil, which he kept erasing. I then moved across the country to a very white room in a house, had trouble with the locks. Brought with me two to four small dogs that used to belong to the landlady, but were mine now. Woke up to Moby draped across my knees.
Went to hear Vieux Farka Touré at the Living Traditions Festival last evening. Sadly, the amplification was extreme, added to high pitched tones in the stopstopithurts zone. Outdoor free concerts are always a mixed bag. I'll stick to recordings. Still, we had a lovely walk, the rain had abated earlier in the day, and the air was mild and welcoming.
8 comments:
I fear your dreams about the queen and Stephen Fry may diagnose you as a chronic Anglophile. They sound quite fun.
Perhaps Moby is going a little deaf? Mol is quite deaf now and has very poor vision too, but, while it means we have to take extra care of her, it makes for a quieter life, since she sees and hears fewer things to bark at. Watching Princeling with a 3 year old's imperfect co-ordination trying to throw sticks for Molly with 11 year old dog's imperfect vision was quite amusing: hit or miss and heavy on the miss.
Lucy,
Oh, I'm just Canadian. I love wit and sarcasm and intelligent people. I have been thinking about the Queen because of the impending apocalypse and her visit to Ireland - a possible connection there. Listening to The Unbelievable Truth lately.
Re Moby: Not noticing any other signs of deafness, but he does seem to sleep more, and more soundly at times, now than before. He's still amazingly fast chasing and catching "prey."
Happy Rapture. I'm still here, and as far as I know, so's the rest of New Zealand.
"Anyone wanting more eternity than this moment has clearly not thought it through. — Great comment. Love it.
What a bummer about the Vieux Farka Toure concert. To have such a great opportunity ruined... :^(
Yes, still here, and so are The Queen and Stephen Fry when we all last chatted.
I too have vivid dreams!
Your Queen dream May mean something post-apocalyptic. And perhaps this is heaven and we are in it! Glad that Stephen Fry is too. Congratulations, us.
So it's come and gone again, and the enraptured ones are still among us. That means we'll have to listen to the horsecrap all over again at the next armeggedon. No Reubens for them!
Oh God, Charles as our head of state - what a nightmare!
Pacian,
Yours, not mine. We got enough trouble over here in the leader department.
Post a Comment