Listen, Buddy
11 October 1999
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Listen, Buddy
11 October 1999
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6:57 PM: I sure seem to be yelling at people a lot lately. Seems odd. Maybe just because I used to get all tense in the stomach whenever I had a confrontation like that, and now I halfway enjoy it. Smash the young people and their foolish naivete! Smash smash!
Saw Buena Vista Social Club last night, probably one of the last half-dozen people in this whole city. I can't say that it was all that great as a film - way too much spinning and spinning - but the music and the musicians were wonderful. I think Compay Segundo, the 90-year-old tres player who started smoking (second-hand) around the age of 5, is my new personal hero.
I think it was Ibrahim Ferrer, a singer and one of the people whose career was revived by the album and the film, who made a remark I found very interesting: In Cuba, they had managed to fend off the good as well as the bad. Just so, but not often put so clearly. Punt that good intention.
Accomplished very little otherwise. Laundry. Reading. Being inept. After about five or six months of work on this Big Project Thing at work, we still haven't launched it, and I'm the only developer left. It's not my fault, I swear. But I do seem to always be involved in projects that never quite get done. Coincidence? Seen my apartment lately?
Blah. Trying to get someone to take the second ticket to Brecht's The Life of Galileo this Thursday. Never will. Stinko field in full effect. Maybe I should sell it on eBay. Maybe I should sell myself there. "Slightly damaged, still functional. Great fixer-upper. Accessories sold separately."
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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All names are fake, most places are real, the
author is definitely
unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne. | ||||
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