Sunday morning consisted of waking up too late to go to the museum; dropping my bag of groceries, thus causing a 2lb container of vanilla yogurt to break open on the bottom (I heard the plastic crack but plead to the gods dairy that everything was fine. Oh dairy-gods, why do you taunt me so); and when I got home, after a more-than-hour wait to check out, I overcooked the chicken I made for lunch. But, on a much more positive note, the sweet potato I made was just the low-fat, high-fiber, stress-reducing side dish the doctor ordered. My doctor of preference ignored me (for the most part) at the surprisingly warm-weathered Mummers parade on Saturday. But how does one go about having good ol' fashioned one-on-one conversations amid a blaring string-band soundtrack mixed with consistent chanting of the Eagles Fight Song (as rendered by Drunky McDrunky and his Lush Chorus of Roaring Rabble-rousers)? Please tell me then give me the keys to your DeLorean and I thank you ever-so-greatly.
When I got home from the parade, I finished reading "Perfume: The Story of a Murderer" then saw the film a mere three hours later. Is nice. The following night I saw "Children of Men." Great dystopian fun for the whole family. By " fun" I mean "harrowing fear." After all that, I started reading (or picking up where I left off) Salman Rushdies's "Shalimar the Clown," even though I know how it ends.
I meant to post all of this this past weekend but didn't since I got caught up in reading (been doing a lot of that lately), filmgoing, and whatnot. Catching up on all things cultured, I guess. And although I've known about the "whatnot," or "Art After 5" for those of us in the know, for a while I decided that the idea of seeing the Slavic Soul Party perform their blend of the East European and Mexican musics while partaking in cocktails seemed too hard to resist. And for all my cultured being, and hip know-how, why is it I can never travel from point A to point B without spilling a little of my dirty martini (served up)? Please answer me this or are the dairy gods branching out into the wonderous world of spirits?
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