little modified by particular forms
My concert buddy and I bought our tickets for Peter, Bjorn & John's September 17th show ages ago. A few weeks ago, though, I found out The Sounds will be playing in Los Angeles that same day. Even though I've already seen them, I still feel a sort of sadness over missing this, even though I'm obviously not losing anything.
There are a few other shows lined up I'd want to see once the fall quarter has started. Of course, they're on school days and thus I am unable to go. I'm consoled over the fact that after this next term, school won't be an issue anymore. Also, I will finally be able to fullfill that old dream of seeing The White Stripes (in the pit, no less), so I musn't ("musn't"? yeah, I don't know) get greedy. Because even if the Stripes show was the only concert I attended in 2007, that should be more than enough.
Lastly, on a random note: after years of searching, I still haven't found a version of Mozart's Piano Sonata No. 11 that records all three movements to my satisfaction. ...Because, obviously, I have the qualified expert opinion to judge these things.
These are a few the thoughts that run though my head when it takes me four freakin' hours to read some of the most boring works known to man.
There are a few other shows lined up I'd want to see once the fall quarter has started. Of course, they're on school days and thus I am unable to go. I'm consoled over the fact that after this next term, school won't be an issue anymore. Also, I will finally be able to fullfill that old dream of seeing The White Stripes (in the pit, no less), so I musn't ("musn't"? yeah, I don't know) get greedy. Because even if the Stripes show was the only concert I attended in 2007, that should be more than enough.
Lastly, on a random note: after years of searching, I still haven't found a version of Mozart's Piano Sonata No. 11 that records all three movements to my satisfaction. ...Because, obviously, I have the qualified expert opinion to judge these things.
These are a few the thoughts that run though my head when it takes me four freakin' hours to read some of the most boring works known to man.