Started a post about a friend. Meant it as a eugoly/elegy whatever they do when the person is still alive. Turned out to be so vitriolic, I scrapped it. Friend if you're reading this, you don't know it's about you.. hopefully a mildly toned-down version for public consumption will appear shortly. Have also made note to self to moderate comments soon after.
My mp3 player has turned prescient. In a momentary lapse of reason I filled it with random pop/rock and put the thing on shuffle (a la the pod). It then played (in sequence) Picture of You (Boyzone, OST Mr. Bean), Father and Son (Ronan Keating and Yusuf Islam/Cat), Last thing on my mind (Ronan and LeAnn Rimes) and When you say nothing at all (duh.). Before I get the brickbats for these four songs I've said momentary lapse already. But how on shuffle did it get these four songs? Technology now is taking over my life. I sometimes feel like Alice... tumbling down the rabbit hole...
Then when driving through the crashing rain it played Flood (Jars of Clay). And then we had Evil Woman (ELO) and well it's losing touch but two songs later I ended up listening to Beep (Pussycat Dolls). Freaky. But at some point of time when the rain and the traffic were beginning to take their toll on my qi, started the strains of Lie in Our Graves (Dave Matthew(s) Band, Live in Chicago). What an amazing song it is. Ten-odd minutes of Dave's voice, that brilliant violinist/fiddler and that ambidextrous drummer.
Watch High Fidelity for the umpteenth time and again wished I could read the book. Again.
Also watched XMen the Last Stand. Frightening sometimes the fact that the crowd for the Code is about twice the size of the one for Xmen. Not a bad movie at all. Not much of a story, good looking women (even Rebecca Romijn-Stamos at some point of time sheds all the blue and the make up and looks the way god made her), nice effects, a little too much sentiment, Cool new mutants (Beast, Jaggernaut, Spyke on a cameo before Wolverine makes sheesh kebab out of him). There's supposed to be an undercurrent of philosophy that being different is ok and there is concept of a cure for... well, being different. Hugh Jackman as usual does the slice and dice retractable claws thing with panache. Bottom line you'll enjoy it if you're either twelve or a fan (some people think I'm both, it's not a bad thing).
Nothing else new on the horizon outside of the Met Dept screwing up monsoon predictions again and a patient when asked some technical question regarding when she had her first child/second child/menopause etc replying, "If I could figure all that out I wouldn't be on this bed. I'd be a doctor like you or something..."
Looking for a nice long rope to string myself up.
