(no subject)

Little dog has been living in here like one of our dogs, going out when they go out, being nice to Hershey, who's here when Andy's here. He gets along with everyone, including the cats. How strange. There's a lady who has kept calling long past the time when all the puppies were gone, asking if we had a grown dog for sale, so maybe she'll come take him. He's a very nice little dog, and pretty. We have no idea where he came from, and no one's called to claim him.

( geekout )

(no subject)

As I sorted my clothes and cleaned my room, I set my mp3 player to run through its inventory. Its place had been held at Styx, and as I folded and endrawered it continued on through Three Dog Night and the Turtles before I was done. As I lay down to take a nap, the first of the songs it sorted under Uncertain Outcome started to play, and I stopped, because I had not listened to those in a very long time. True from the Miller concert, True from the Alessandro concert, both Minor Third Etude recordings, three of Sin Dormir, and the opera. I listened all the way through that, though now it's not only the quality of the performance but also the writing that makes me cringe. Mark's piece, Andrew's Prelude & Gigue, the Interference improv with the singing bowl, the unbearably E Minor string improv, and the last improv from the concert the night before Avalon died.

I was prepared to be melancholy, nostalgic, to writhe with longing for those days again. And then it ran on into the V's, and it was as a sign from the positive forces in the universe. Van Halen - Jump. The song that symbolizes far-flung, passionate optimism for me. I realized that it's all good. It was good then, but it's good now, too. I can still have a Kabalevsky day just knowing it exists.