Don’t you love weekends? What are weekends again? Remind me.
This weekend I spent exactly 24 whole hours off campus, which
borders on a record length.
Last night my mother decided we should have a family night
so we set off in the family vehicle, a black Taurus she named after a buffalo
in “Dances With Wolves,” and made our way to the Poplar Lodge in
Hendersonville, where the family ate steak and looked with pity at the meatless
members of the family (moi).
I do enjoy eating there. It’s all big stones and fireplaces
and view and looks like the kind of place you might slay Grendel on the way to
the salad bar. I hope to one day live in a place like it, perhaps on a bluff
over a lake in Scotland. Hie Thee
Hither!
I’ve fallen into all these weird depressing moods of late
and last night I got rather pissed off at my mother and left the table to go
cool off literally on the front porch. I sat on the hole-y velvet seat of an
old horse-drawn sleigh parked beside a dead tree and I wondered what would have
happened if I’d actually managed to run away to California when I was fifteen.
Would things in my life still be so grotesquely surreal?
The Chapel Choir sang downtown at Trinity Episcopal with a
chamber group this afternoon. Honestly, I’m not really a good enough soprano
for the high parts, but I love being lost in a cantata. I can easily imagine
all of my friends in elaborate 18th century costume running around
the court of Louis XIVth complaining about how much Versailles sucks. Also, Bach is wonderful.
I’ve lost my Morrissey tape. I’m pretty sure I left
it in the Taurus, but my mother says not. Maybe she’s a secret fan and stole
it.
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