I'm surrounded by
Christmas music these days - not by choice, really. As part of my personal "get to know the music of Dead White Males" project, I'm hearing carols and motets and oratorios (oratorii?) on
radio stations, when I'd rather be hearing
something else - fewer yuletide voices and more
string quartets. I'm as much a non-fan of the mass piety of the season as I am a non-fan of the
commercialism; but I have, it seems, been jolted into reverence for the first time. Ever. So some Norwegian carol is probably appropriate.
I find myself envious of the Space Day concept, reduced as I am to drive-by noding these days (i.e. even more so than usual). A lascivious Space Day is even more intriguing. I mean, lascivious is somewhere on my todo list: ... 3) wake up and figure out what day it is ... 7) what's for dinner? ... 11) kick the neighbor's dog ... 17) find a new streak of Eno-esque "idiot energy" for future use ... 23) get my groove back ... 34) there is no #34 ... 36) this sentence no verb ...