On fashioning a cap from a page of Camus.
Apropos of nothing at all, I freaked out at work and had to come home today. Almost freaked out. I was just in a really terrible mood to begin with, and things weren't running very smoothly what with security people visiting and deadline mail coming in, so I left after two hours. Set me off, almost. Like teeth-grinding angry and maybe a little over-caffeinated. I got home and took a hot shower and ate and, you know, tomorrow, as they say, is another day. Ok.
. . .
PS: For a very limited time, probably, and solely because of dear Joanna Newsom's opinion on downloading her music (and also because it's my new favorite), you can get the album I lovingly zipped up for Kristen right here.
Toward the end of Newsom’s set, the audience has doubled but also settled into an odd rapture for the usually rocking hall. A Smog fan gets his ticket ripped, stops in his tracks, looks and listens for a few moments, then turns back to the ticket taker, asking “Who is that?
Indeed.
. . .
PS: For a very limited time, probably, and solely because of dear Joanna Newsom's opinion on downloading her music (and also because it's my new favorite), you can get the album I lovingly zipped up for Kristen right here.
Toward the end of Newsom’s set, the audience has doubled but also settled into an odd rapture for the usually rocking hall. A Smog fan gets his ticket ripped, stops in his tracks, looks and listens for a few moments, then turns back to the ticket taker, asking “Who is that?
Indeed.