"I'll give you television, I'll give you eyes of blue, I'll give you a man who wants to rule the world." -Bowie
The voices of art echoing back are the only comfort in the blind, little metal room. Well, that and the voices of the other despairing.
But where is my optimism? Yeah, yeah. There. Two synonyms for "yes" next to each other. That's all my optimism.
Something else. Gods know I've been holding out, I do have other things to talk about.
On Saturday I went with my family to see a production of Les Miserables at the civic theatre downtown. A pretty place, which a big, red walled reception area with an enormous, dangerous looking chandelier. The show itself wasn't so bad. I like the story of a bunch of people miserable in a bunch of different ways. I didn't like the fact that the thing was entirely singing and I didn't like that the singers had such bland, conventional voices. I really didn't like that the fine audience in their expensive clothes couldn't refrain from making noise throughout the performance, nor could a few of them refrain from coming in several minutes late. Where's the respect, huh?
The show was early in the day, noon, so I had to be up relatively early. I couldn't sleep, though, because I was lying awake being pissed off at the South Park episode I'd seen the night before. A little allegory about how the election was between a douche and a turd sandwich so it really didn't matter who you voted for. I suppose good Stone and Parker were merely trying to remind us all that it's important to be apathetic now and then. But I still enjoyed the Wall-Mart episode last night. These guys just need to learn to stop preaching "edgy".
Ugh, I'm tired right now. I only managed two hours of sleep.
Three friends with birthdays yesterday. So here's a belated happy birthday to bloodlette, hernewshoes, and grandmofhelsing.
I had a better, more Halloweenish Halloween than I was expecting to have. I ended up watching the 1958 The House on Haunted Hill with Vincent Price. It was okay. More fun for the cheese value and Vincent Price's performance. But quite suitably Halloweenish. The best part of Halloween, though, is that so many of the ladies on my lj friends list posted lovely pictures of themselves in costumes and/or festivities. Who needs to participate in life when he's got all this to look at?
I'd better go and get my slightly overdue oil change, now . . .
"and did they get you to trade
your heros for ghosts?
hot ashes for trees?
hot air for a cool breeze?
cold comfort for change?
and did you exchange
a walk on part in the war
for a lead role in a cage?"