recursion
After doing fifteen miles on the W&OD trail after working way too long today, I’ve been spending my evening mostly just sitting there, letting time pass around me. I tried to plunk on the ukulele a bit, but the music just wouldn’t come. Maybe tomorrow…I’ve got it in my head that somebody ought to write a song titled something like “The Ballad of Gwen Cooper” with several sly asides about how sexy the Welsh accent is, and I would kind of like to try to be that someone, but I won’t be doing that tonight.
What I did find myself doing was reading back over the recent cut out racks posts I’ve been doing here for the last couple of weeks. Generally, I liked the ideas I tried to convey, but in the future, I should probably try to stop repeating myself. Not to get too meta or anything (not that it’s ever stopped me before), but what follows could easily be converted to the official drinking game of that particular feature:
- Really.
- Tuesday Night Music Club is the center of the universe
- “I don’t remember buying this”
- “…and that’s a good thing”
- Nostalgic yet qualified reminiscence about the rock scene in Central PA in the 1990s
- Vivian Campbell
- Really.
- shameful admissions about how I thought certain songs would impress the ladies
- what the early 90s sounded like
- It’s surprising it took this long to get to…
- Really.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this post that will probably only be funny to me.
