Spring Drizzle
The winter rain was getting me down. But I'm telling you, spring rain is different. You don't feel it chilling you to the bone and making you sick; rather, you smell it opening the doors to the green in the surrounding leaves, washing the film from the streets and sidewalks.
I think, sometimes, that my love of rain in the warm seasons stems from some warm lunch/tea/coffee sessions in my adolescence with Platonic female friends, some plucked wildflowers, John Cusack standing with a radio blaring Peter Gabriel in Say Anything, the sweeping romance of it, the way it makes colors leap out from the gray, the teasing, "let's-get-you-out-of-those-wet-clothes" crypto-eroticism. And then when the sun peaks out, and the emerging warmth mingles with the scattered wet . . . aaaah, I remember why I love this city.
Opening weekend for The Swan went well, but Beige has a more credible report on that than do I.
We're reviewed, if you scroll down to the fourth show, on this page; the review is tepid, and the writing is . . . well, I'll let you judge that for yourself. But it isn't a pan, it's marginally complimentary towards my efforts and it may pique some curiosity amongst those who read it.
As a liberal, I'm neither reflexively against taxes nor particularly trusting of the idea of a "simplified" (read: regressive) tax code, but for FUCK'S SAKE, does this have to be so complicated? WE DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY!!!!!!!!!!!! Save your fucking audit flags for people who have a car and buy their clothes new, people! Jesus-monkey-fucking-Christ . . .
Oh, and I finally saw last week's LOST. Very fun, though I hope this doesn't portend a shaggy-dog ending to the whole thing.
I think, sometimes, that my love of rain in the warm seasons stems from some warm lunch/tea/coffee sessions in my adolescence with Platonic female friends, some plucked wildflowers, John Cusack standing with a radio blaring Peter Gabriel in Say Anything, the sweeping romance of it, the way it makes colors leap out from the gray, the teasing, "let's-get-you-out-of-those-wet-clothes" crypto-eroticism. And then when the sun peaks out, and the emerging warmth mingles with the scattered wet . . . aaaah, I remember why I love this city.
Opening weekend for The Swan went well, but Beige has a more credible report on that than do I.
We're reviewed, if you scroll down to the fourth show, on this page; the review is tepid, and the writing is . . . well, I'll let you judge that for yourself. But it isn't a pan, it's marginally complimentary towards my efforts and it may pique some curiosity amongst those who read it.
As a liberal, I'm neither reflexively against taxes nor particularly trusting of the idea of a "simplified" (read: regressive) tax code, but for FUCK'S SAKE, does this have to be so complicated? WE DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY!!!!!!!!!!!! Save your fucking audit flags for people who have a car and buy their clothes new, people! Jesus-monkey-fucking-Christ . . .
Oh, and I finally saw last week's LOST. Very fun, though I hope this doesn't portend a shaggy-dog ending to the whole thing.
posted by thelyamhound at 10:14 AM
2 Comments:
As a purebred Washingtonian rain at any time doesn't bother me. But I have to admit that out of all the rains, Spring rain is my favorite. I would so buy a scent called wet-green-ness.
Unfortunately slugs like wet-green-ness too, and they're uncool.
I'm generally fine with rain, too, but there was definitely a period this winter wherein I was just getting bummed out by it, which is unusual for me . . .
Actually, I've got no beef with slugs, but then I don't really grow anything either, so I don't have a pest register on which they can . . . er, register.
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