(no subject)
This weekend was a very good weekend. I spent the better part of it playing pyrate, drinking, sword-fighting in the streets, quoting The Princess Bride, singing shanties, and generally having a grand old time.
Tonight I went out and planned my final classroom presentation with some classmates. I will be playing Rochester, and dragging Bertha around in a box. We are possibly going to break some school rules about setting things on fire.
On the way back home, I started chatting with a girl playing an accordion. There was a small crowd around her, who kept asking her to play songs. She was a begginer, and during one a lapse as she tried to figure out what was left in her repertoire, I ended up singing "Johnny be Fair." People clapped along and the accordionist improvised a little on her instrument. Nothing will ever entertain me as much as a fifteen-year-old gangsta clapping in time to a folk song while his friends shoot him sidelong glances. Nothing.
BART is a strange and (occasionally) wonderful mode of transportation.
Tonight I went out and planned my final classroom presentation with some classmates. I will be playing Rochester, and dragging Bertha around in a box. We are possibly going to break some school rules about setting things on fire.
On the way back home, I started chatting with a girl playing an accordion. There was a small crowd around her, who kept asking her to play songs. She was a begginer, and during one a lapse as she tried to figure out what was left in her repertoire, I ended up singing "Johnny be Fair." People clapped along and the accordionist improvised a little on her instrument. Nothing will ever entertain me as much as a fifteen-year-old gangsta clapping in time to a folk song while his friends shoot him sidelong glances. Nothing.
BART is a strange and (occasionally) wonderful mode of transportation.