Dark End Of The Street
Music is always the perfect panacea for my particular ills. And as ill as I felt yesterday I firmly decided that I couldn't leave the store after work without my own copy of Early Man Closing In tucked securely under my arm.
And I'm liking it. Sounds a little like if Ozzy had sung for old Iron Maiden, or maybe Exodus. When I was blasting it in the car early this morning I rolled down my window to get the blistering blast of icy winter air burning the flesh off my lips and cheeks at 65 MPH. My, that was bracing. Something about this music really feels like it should be experienced with the full bitter force of nature right in your face. Like I'm out on a wind-swept glacier dressed only in sabretooth tiger furs, trying to take down a mastodon with a long poison-tipped spear. Oh, if only in my dreams.
Joe and I actually have a day off together tomorrow. Yes, an actually Saturday. Two weeks before Christmas and they don't need me at the store on a Saturday?. Anyway, Mike might be dropping by tonight for the usual evening of hilarity but if not I'll probably just stay up late and catch up on some of my music forums online that I have sorely neglected over the past few weeks. Searching out something new, a new piece of music, or a movie that I have never seen or heard of perhaps. Some days it's like real treasure hunting. That never fails to cheer me.
Then again, I wonder if S. wants to go driving around town tonight and looking at Christmas lights. We do that every year and it's always an absolute riot, since we are usually hopped up and giddy on coffee and sugar cookies while doing it (what we commonly refer to as the "vut-vuts"). I could totally go for the vut-vuts tonight. I must fill my digestive cavity with lethal amounts of toxins and run my mouth and giggle with my gal pal while listening to last year's Christmas mix CD and looking for the tackiest lit house in all the land. It's tradition. It's Christmas.
And as always, it must somehow involve... smoke bombs.
{{twisting mustache}}
And I'm liking it. Sounds a little like if Ozzy had sung for old Iron Maiden, or maybe Exodus. When I was blasting it in the car early this morning I rolled down my window to get the blistering blast of icy winter air burning the flesh off my lips and cheeks at 65 MPH. My, that was bracing. Something about this music really feels like it should be experienced with the full bitter force of nature right in your face. Like I'm out on a wind-swept glacier dressed only in sabretooth tiger furs, trying to take down a mastodon with a long poison-tipped spear. Oh, if only in my dreams.
Joe and I actually have a day off together tomorrow. Yes, an actually Saturday. Two weeks before Christmas and they don't need me at the store on a Saturday?. Anyway, Mike might be dropping by tonight for the usual evening of hilarity but if not I'll probably just stay up late and catch up on some of my music forums online that I have sorely neglected over the past few weeks. Searching out something new, a new piece of music, or a movie that I have never seen or heard of perhaps. Some days it's like real treasure hunting. That never fails to cheer me.
Then again, I wonder if S. wants to go driving around town tonight and looking at Christmas lights. We do that every year and it's always an absolute riot, since we are usually hopped up and giddy on coffee and sugar cookies while doing it (what we commonly refer to as the "vut-vuts"). I could totally go for the vut-vuts tonight. I must fill my digestive cavity with lethal amounts of toxins and run my mouth and giggle with my gal pal while listening to last year's Christmas mix CD and looking for the tackiest lit house in all the land. It's tradition. It's Christmas.
And as always, it must somehow involve... smoke bombs.
{{twisting mustache}}
posted by Melissa at 6:01 PM
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