I've been living off apples and buttertarts all morning. Or at least for the last three hours. And I'm only eating apples because I've over indulged in buttertarts and I'm trying to lie to myself, that because I've chose to eat more fruit, that everything will be alright.
So while I cut off pieces of apples, and set it down on this cookbook called "The Borowski Cookbook", I'll tell you about some really exciting things.
We;ve finished the presskit (more or less). All that is left is the cd, we need to copy, slip it and include a tiny list of the songs included on it. We need to get some new business cards, that include the logo. I need to finish the master list of festivals, and we all need to finish labeling the manila envelopes to be sent out. That was how my day was spent yesterday. I woke up in a blanket fort. I woke up too early as usual. I couldn't get the wifi to work on my netbook, so I decided to spend the majority texting cyrus back and forth and reading the rest of this book. I finished the book.
The night before all that, I went on my first clubbing experience. It wasn't even though. It was to see the competition for this talent show, and feel a eerie vibe while men who were way to old to even be in the place try to catch your eye, while you look around trying to find something to look at. It dragged on, and we ended up at a&w after midnight. I owe Forrest or Carmanagh 3 dollars.
Now it's remembrance day. It's cold, and the services are going to be happening in less then an hour. I haven't decided whether I want to participate or not. i'll tell you eventually. I started reading "Homage to Catalonia" by George Orwell. I started reading it before the house woke up this morning, and I ended up reading the first chapter outloud. I ended up talking to myself when I had no clue what the definition of the word was. I had this old pencil in one hand and the book in the other, while i paced the room, repeating words that made no sense ( the sense of it in a dictionary someplace else). Words like "Servile", "Proletarians"(well, this word rings a bell, but i still have no clue what it is), "bugle-calls" and "Porron" (george explained this one in the text, but i would love to see a picture of one) left me without a state of clear mind.
I started reading this book to spite cyrus in a way that doesnt really matter, and I doubt he would ever know. He brought up the last book I was reading(a small history of tractors in the ukraine) was very "feminist" (nothing wrong with that, except it totally wasn't) and the fact he thinks that, really bugs me. The book did focus on woman, but only in the way the narrator of the story was a lady. the bad guy was a lady. and there was a mending of relationships through sisters. All because of this ukrainian blond, twink who wanted to steal the millions (not really) of their widowed father. The family acted. And coincidently the family was female.
So I chose george orwell (eric arthur blair) as something very far away form feminism.
.... as for the update from the storm, I survived it. with a bbq, a roaring fireplace and various candles displaced all over the place. the radio was playing loud and clear too. it was one of the moments where i wish i had the love of my current life in my arms <3 ...Maybe next year.
