...and someone else, that...

Twice today I've sat down to make an entry, and twice today I've come up with nil. It's not block, rather it's nothing to say, so let's turn to stream-of-conscious deliberation over a whole lot of nothing.

Trying to simultaneously read all five of the books you've bought in the past two weeks is less educational than it is maddening. Not recommended. Running errands with the wife and the kids the other day, doctor's office, gymnastics, a dive into the local pharmacy so she could pick up a prescription. She normally takes a while so then was the time to sit back and enjoy a 25-minute piece of music freshly uploaded to the iPod. The boy's in the back seat studying and I'm wondering if I can make it through the whole 25 minutes (surely she'll be at least that long in the pharmacy) without an interruption. Impossible. He studies without a question, working on math and time, and I'm 21 minutes into the music, looking forward to and guessing toward its conclusion, and she shows up with the medicine and our daughter, and I press 'pause'. Six months of absence has left a considerable void in the research of my interests, ..., and what in the world to hear next? Certainly that looper that Schaumann told me about. Nikos and Kuchen and someone else, that one. It's two months before the move and I'd kill to hear some live music, but there's nothing on the calendar that looks at all worth the trouble, unless it's hearing Sam Rivers again. A jaunt to Portland or Vancouver is possibly in the pipe. And how in a sidecar do you stomach the mistakes? Not mine, theirs. I'd shake a friend or loved one to death in frustration were they to go ahead with the same amount of short-sightedness. Tomorrow I'll call the registrar. Oh, ugh, and TV today, who could avert their eyes from the news? Man, why couldn't it have been a Pius or a Fabian?

Feh.