Andare, Partire, Tornare

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Zits, Jane Austen, and pussification

I made the bad mistake of switching my preferences on Harry Potter for Grownups (a Yahoogroup) from read web-only to digest. In the past day, I have received over twenty digests, composed of twenty-five messages apiece, full of people praising and ranting and overanalyzing and asking stupid questions that are pretty clear if you read the book with any dilligence. There are a few insightful comments, but they're kind of lost in all the noise of people who have been waiting three years to post and now must get everything off their chest in one massive belch before they explode. I'm going to have to delete some digests wholesale until things settle down to a more normal rate. Until then, I'll just skim and delete.

Been listening to Confessions of St. Ace by John Westley Harding. Natalie turned me onto him, and I have to say that I really lovelovelove this album. It's poppy and fun, but with more substantial music and lyrics than those two adjectives usually refer to. It's also very sing-along-in-the-car-able, which makes me happy. I'll have to make Boop listen when she gets back. She loves "Humblebee," so I think she'll like most, if not all of Confessions.

I wish this fucking megazoid zit or whatever it is that has chosen to inhabit my face would die already. Actually, I don't think it's truly a zit - it's more like a little tiny boil. Very painful, and popping it does nothing to make it go away. It just sits there, smirking redly at me. Curse you, foul blemish...curse you and all your bretheren.

I think I need to reread Pride and Predjudice. No, I don't know what made me decide that. It certainly wasn't the mention of the monster zit. I'll start it as soon as I'm done with Barbara Hambly's very excellent book _Bride of the Rat God_, which I'm devouring and almost done with.

Bemo picked up a temp job from Tuesday to tomorrow, but like a big dope, he forgot the cardinal rule of temping - don't be too efficent. He did such a good job that he wrapped the job up early. However, I consider this a good thing because he's still fairly sick, and it means he can rest up all of tomorrow before he goes to play at Sharpshooters that evening. I've been worried about him, especially as some of his bandmates (read, the two younger guys who are still going through their dickish stage) have a tendency to mumble "pussy" at the sign of any weakness. Although as Bemo said the other day, if they try it with him over this, they'll have to explain to their mothers that they got beaten up by a pussy. Strep throat really brings out the beast in a person, eh?

Going to go shower and finish my book.

10:11 p.m. - 2003-06-26

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