I have always been here before. In 1992, I believe.
I would rant on music, but, to be honest, I don’t think I have the moral certitude for that anymore. Sure, I still have a low tolerance of others’s music but I am resigned these days to sighing.
Our quest for a singer continues. Finding someone we know proved, well, unfruitful. We would have prefered someone we knew, due to being forewarned as to what we were like. We are we like? Not bitter, nor cynical, nor punsters, no obvious-jokesters. Oh no, none of those. Honest. So now I turn to the local band site and its forum, which doesn’t seem to like Mozilla, so I had to write my want-ad (Ruh-hith-im section wahhhhhhnt-ad. Go on, name the song, the band, the album, the year) in Safari. There is a section offering fresh flesh, but we aren’t interested in seventeen-year old emo chicks. Well, one of us might be, but that one isn’t me.
My LJ crossposting isn’t working, that sucks. Not for me. For those who read me that way. There are some. No, really, there are.
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The is something overly excellent about re-reading the Modesy Blaise novels decades after the first time. They are tightly written, pacey, intricate and just dandy. Not the same tightly written, intricateness of Mr. Auster, but hey, it isn’t supposed to be. But they rock. Modesty always rocked my world, drawn or written. *sigh*
And the new imprints of the books are lovely. Primary colours, simple, elegant and appealing covers. Though the latest one I bought wasn’t 99p, the way the first one was. I guess I can stretch to the cover cost, though.
See, if I put in good words now, when I am a FamousRockStartm, the publisher will just send me them. For free. Yes, I know how I could scam them, but I am out of practise in the scam arena. Mostly.
I type here trying to ease back in to the weblogging chair of destiny. Not quite working yet. What more have you missed? Oh, lots and lots.
