All I want to do this week is sleep & eat junk food. This isn't a radical departure from my normal personality - I've always been a big fan of sleeping and salty-food consumption. But this week my desires have outstripped my usual motivation to do anything else. It's not like I've had a particularly difficult and/or healthy week - there were 2 snow days this week and many trips to the Kwikee Mart for treats to fill my peculiar cravings, so it's not like I'm making up for a genuine lack. All I can think of is that the winter up to late December was quite mild, so I didn't have the usual motivation to hibernate. Now that the snow's come to blanket my house in thick silent whiteness, the urge to bulk up & sleep is redoubled. Zzzzz.
* * *
Last night the good ship Education held yet another coffeehouse, and many of the same songs were trotted out for display. My contingent decided to go way out of our comfort zone this time, so Kilted Will & I played a Waterboys song on the ukulele while the Boy sang. The Boy also did "Sunday Morning" & "Isolation" on the uke, with strong supporting percussion from Mr. Avalanche. Due to popular demand, I let myself be talked into yet another performance of "My Chinchilla" - but as I had forgotten half the words since the last performance, the result was terrible.
"That sucked," I pronounced as the Boy played the last chord. "And you have no one to blame but yourselves."
"So true!" they howled back at me.
It wasn't as much fun as the others have been, mostly because of the poor turn out and my absolute boredom with hearing a few standard songs played extremely badly (including a rendition of "Long Black Veil" that featured two singers who were not only out of tune with their guitars, but out of tune with each other.) I think my favourite moment was when the Anti-Stephen launched into an acapella version of "Kawliga" - every time he performs, I'm taken aback at the strength of his voice. It's a voice that's almost ill-fitting; after hearing months of his academic wildman ramblings, I have a conviction that he would sing with that much volume even if his voice was a screeching howl. The fact that it's a beautiful full baritone is almost beside the point.
We stayed afterwards in a loose circle to hear Kilted Will & Stan & the Boy trading acoustic folk songs like baseball cards. Mr. Avalanche & his girlf were there in the circle, singing & tapping along as the spirit moved. (They're two of the quietest people I've ever met; it's no wonder they've been together so long.) We stayed far too late, but there was something impossibly charming about the tiny group, something gentle and rare and lovely. I'm not sure what it was so we'll call it "East Coast" and leave it at that.
* * *
Other thoughts tomorrow when I have more energy; there have been some fun little jokes rattling around my head today but I'm too tired to do them justice.
* * *
3 years ago today: awfully silly
