The weekend has arrived and I'll be headed to Maine tomorrow to spend a few days with my parents at the beach house we've been frequenting for years now. My sister and her family, along with my grandmother will be heading up on Monday. This means I'll get the room in the basement with a water bed, bathroom with shower, and a birds eye view of the bay through large windows. A massive improvement over the less accommodating rooms upstairs.
I hope to do a lot of reading. I'm bringing Pillars of the Earth and Folly And Glory, which I've been itching to dive into for a few weeks now. Without all the commotion that accompanies my sister's family, there will be a lot of quiet time. Perfect reading climate.
I also hope to work on some lyrics, do some running and kayaking, and spend some quality time with my parents.
Listening to the newest Antony record a lot. Nothing short of transcendent. It's more controlled, more focused, than his last effort, which I find myself enjoying more after having been pouring over The Crying Light for the last few days. He is an oddity, Antony, but not in a freakish, unapproachable way. It took me some time to figure out how I felt about him. Well, now I know. Check out the segment of NPR's Fresh Air with him. Great interview that focuses on The Crying Light, but covers a lot more. Check it out if you like music and interesting, creative people.
Had a dream last night in which one of my friends was coming on to me in front of her significant other, who looked sullen and defeated as he watched her grope and caress me with limbs and lips. I won't reveal who she is, but will note that, even though I think she's pretty and pleasant, I've never felt about her the way she was depicted in the dream. Still, aside from my friend looking sullen and defeated, I'm chalking this one up as a good dream.
Finished Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee today. What a fucking tragedy, our country's handling of the Native Americans. This book should be read by every American. Here's a story from the book, with a liberal amount of paraphrasing.
Buffalo Bill had given Sitting Bull, perhaps the greatest of all Chiefs, a white horse that bowed down and did tricks when signaled with a gun shot, as a parting gift when Sitting Bull left his Wild,Wild,West troupe. The day Sitting Bull died, tribal police had surrounded his house at Fort Yates in order to take him prisoner. Just as soon as they had done this, Sitting Bull's supporters swarmed around the soldiers, outnumbering them four to one. Shots were fired, and Sitting Bull was one of the casualties, by accident or design. His supporters, most of whom were part of the religious Ghost Dance movement, watched in awe as Sitting Bull's white horse started acting peculiar once shots were fired. To be sure, they took this as a sign.
Tonight: The Wire (if you haven't seen this show, stop the world, pop in a DVD, and treat yourself to brilliance); Six Feet Under (brilliant, too); music and lyrics; Pillars Of The Earth; maybe some play time with Baby Boy Z, the best of the best; and most importantly, pack for tomorrow.
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