Monday, September 24, 2007

"When you go your way and I'll go mine..."

Good gravy, I get myself a good five-three-five-three streak going on (or is it the other way around?), and then one crazy month happens and I'll probably never get another two posts out by month's end. Oh well, that's what comes of having a lot to do and nothing much to say. Actually, now that I ponder upon it, what have I been doing with myself? I turned twenty-three this month, which feels older than it sounds. I was thrown a surprise party, which wasn't all that surprising but was a party with nearly my whole family and Lindsey's as well - all at Casa Mish, bless them. Even my brand-new niece Jane made an appearance. She arrived a few days before my birthday, breaking my immediate-family-wide stranglehold on birthdays in the month of September. Whew, did that last sentence make sense to you? Nope? Sorry. Yes, stranglehold. I guess this means that one of our birthdays shall henceforth be neglected in the interest of the other, and I'm not holding out much hope that it won't be mine. Still, I can't very well be sore about it, she's the cute one, and (for the first few years at least) probably easier to shop for to boot. Maybe when she becomes a teenager we'll go back to celebrating my birthday instead of hers. I did get some pretty kickin' gifts this time around, though. I won't name them all, but Linds is taking me to see BOB FREAKIN'DYLAN for the occasion. I tell ya, that woman's a keeper. Seriously. I've been on a psyched out Dylan kick ever since, which I guess isn't saying much because I'm always on a Dylan kick, but it is saying something. Trust me. Gec gave me Chronicles, Volume One, Bob Dylan's autobiography of sorts. I was a little nervous to start reading it, since I generally don't want to know more about artists I admire, but it's really a great read and I've nearly finished it. Dylan's writing style is always compelling, and he manages to write about his times and his music without really writing about himself much, which suits me just fine. It's like the book form of one of his best surreal mid-sixties songs, with characters wandering seemingly aimlessly in and out of a narrative which still somehow manages to sound cohesive.

Anyways, there's more to write about, but if I write about it now I'll never reach my quota. Watch your head out there, you never know when it may be in some kind of peril.

5 comments:

die Amerikanerin said...

Excellent, a post! I was going to remind you if you didn't have something up yesterday. Needless to say, I forgot to do this, but you posted anyway.

I'm sorry, I've not heard much Dylan myself, but I know you're a huge fan, so congratulations on your presents, and happy birthday!

Kate said...

D, you could write about socks and it would be entertaining. Of course, I'm D-deprived, way out here, so I'll take what I can get!

DaWheeze said...

How nice to see a new post! You can have Bob Dylan though, I'm only a fan when he doesn't sing I'm afraid...

D.Cous. said...

Sigh, another Dylan hater. I have to assume that there are actually more people out there like me who think he's a great singer, since he has sold millions of records, but they sure seem to keep to themselves. Who, pray tell, would you rather hear sing Dylan's lyrics? I can't even imagine Michael Buble crooning

"The hysterical bride in the penny arcade/screaming she moans I've just been made/then sends out for the doctor who pulls down the shade/and says my advice is to not let the boys in..."

Oh well, no accounting for taste (as I'm sure everyone who reads this is thinking about me). Thanks for the comments!

die Amerikanerin said...

Actually, even though I said I haven't heard much Dylan, I do like his voice...

Anyway, you have today and tomorrow to make you quota. Just a reminder. ^_^