modernity

Took this photo on Thursday's walk. Ah, Mount Pleasant near dusk.




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My mom brought over some stuff from the grandrents' place clean-out on Friday - I now have two chairs in the front room and it's looking almost like a usable space. ! I already had a little table in there which came from the grandrents' place some time ago. They had a lot of great modern furniture left from the 60s which is somehow still in great shape. Once the hideous wallpaper is gone and the floor's redone, I think this room'll be a nice place to be in as well as a good first impression upon entering the house.









I'm so itching to do home and yard improvements these days. Alas, I have no funds at present. I am attempting to make this a positive in that I can formulate plans and determine what I really want before jumping into the actual doing. Hrmph.

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more from Killing Aurora:
p.96
She knows exactly what will happen now. It can't be avoided. It's one of the outer suburbs of hell, where the same ridiculous, pointless scene hiccups over and over again. This could be last night, it could be tomorrow night, it could be the rest of eternity. It may as well be.

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"I have a very 'can you start my orange' approach to life." --Janeane Garofalo

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I am loving this ad.

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Today I read a novel, The Song Reader by Lisa Tucker. On the whole, I really enjoyed it. The premise is great and there's lots of interesting commentary on the nature of our relationship with music. Some of the drama was a bit much for my taste, but without it, I'm not sure that it could've been a success as a novel.

p.9
"Most people," she said, "ignore the wound, put a Band-Aid on it, and forget it. Only the gutsy ones can look right at the blood, stare into the pain, and risk losing their minds to know what's what."

p.18
"You know, I bet you can tell an awful lot about a person from the songs they sing. I don't mean if they're in love, it's a happy song; if they've broken up, a he-done-me-wrong song. I mean something else. Something in the brain maybe, that lets the music slip past all the things you think you know, and wish you believed to what you really are." She glanced at me. "It's kind of strange, don't you think? Those same words would be ignored if someone tried to just say them to you, but when they're in the music, it's different - you can't help but open up. And then you start singing them, too, and it's like your voice is telling you something you still don't know, but need to. Like you're stuck on a particular song and you can't get it out of your head for a reason."

p.29
"There has to be a soul connection, an unbreakable tie to your heart that can't be confused with hope. When you find that, trust me, you'll know."

p.34
You can't trust anyone who has a favorite song. "There's too much out there to love," she explained. "Any person who can choose just one song must be deaf to the rest of them. It's like a man who likes a woman only for her looks. It's nice at first, and she feels great, but give her enough time, she'll realize she can't trust him because he's blind to the rest of her."

p.227
"People don't lust after Linus."
"Think about the choices here. Charlie Brown is bald. Pigpen stinks. Schroeder's like such an egomaniac. Who wouldn't pick Linus?"

P.266
Music could be the most loyal friend, always taking your feelings seriously but transforming them, too, making things better just by naming them and giving them a melody.