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Mar. 19th, 2007 09:21 pmI keep wanting to talk about the weather. I think the warm early autumn rain is mouldering my brain. As long as none of the atrophying grey cells end up in Googong Dam, it probably doesn't matter.
Tomorrow night I'm teaching my students about Tisha B'Av. That should really cheer me up*. Tisha B'Av is a font of pain.
*I'm not actually doleful. In fact, yesterday and today were rather nice. The rain makes me feel like a Verlaine poem. Quick, get out of earshot while I sing "Les sanglots longs des violons de l'automne blessent mon coeur d'une langueur monotone."
Now I keep thinking "I have my violin back." *That* would be a dangerous thought. Much worse than than doleur. You have no idea how badly I play. Worse than I sing.
Tomorrow night I'm teaching my students about Tisha B'Av. That should really cheer me up*. Tisha B'Av is a font of pain.
*I'm not actually doleful. In fact, yesterday and today were rather nice. The rain makes me feel like a Verlaine poem. Quick, get out of earshot while I sing "Les sanglots longs des violons de l'automne blessent mon coeur d'une langueur monotone."
Now I keep thinking "I have my violin back." *That* would be a dangerous thought. Much worse than than doleur. You have no idea how badly I play. Worse than I sing.