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04 January, 2014

Insomnia and the Cunning Fennec Fox




4 January 2014

1559 hrs


Well Patient Reader,


            Alabama lost the Sugar Bowl . . .  it’s taken me this long to write it down.  <heavy sigh>







 






           Ah well, there is always next year, right?



            Winter term begins Monday, and I have yet to receive the other class code I need- the one for my mathematics course.  All will be resolved son though, I hope.  I was able to get that bloody eBook; able to download it in such a way that I can also view it offline, which is a good thing.


            I cooked up some pork carnitas yesterday, and boy are they delicious.  I used just the right amount of garlic and crushed red pepper.  Pull the pork and put it in a tortilla with grated pepper jack cheese and all the problems of the world just sort of, temporary as it may be, melt away.  You also need Sriracha Sauce.  Just a few drops.


            I’ve taken this time off, this Winter Break, to watch some movies.  I borrow them from the city library, if you recall, and I’ll tell you what I watched:
            All four seasons of The IT Crowd; The Madness of King George; Images, with Susannah York and Rene Abourjonois; Under the Volcano with Albert Finney and Jacqueline Bisset; Sybil- which hit pretty close to home considering circumstances of late; Man On A Ledge- which I had forgotten I saw already and disliked until I was five minutes into it-  I had to watch it anyway, because who leaves an unfinished movie?  I’m not a barbarian!  

            I saw The Door in the Floor, which I enjoyed immensely; I watched Omen III: The Final Conflict (I had never seen it, but I rather liked the first two in a guilty-pleasure sort of way . . .).

            That’s My Bush, apparently a short-lived series created by Trey Stone and Matt Parker of South Park fame.  I don’t care much for South Park; the voices annoy me way too much.  I usually enjoy their (Stone and Parker) films; Baseketball made me chuckle.

            I watched the first and third seasons of The Shield, a series I didn’t get into the first time around.  Tempted, with Burt Reynolds and Saffron Burrows . . .  meh.

            Startup.Com; Too Big To Fail; The Pledge (highly recommended); Wall Street:  Money Never Sleeps; the first and second seasons of The United States of Tara- again, hitting close to home!  (hahaha)

            Hall Pass;  Judgment at Nuremberg; In the Valley of Elah (one of my favorites); Factory Girl with Sienna Miller as Edie Sedgewick and Guy Pearce as Andy Warhol; the very troubling movie The Night Porter, starring a gorgeous Charlotte Rampling;  and I have two more to watch:  The Magdalene Sisters, and the Hitchcock film, Marnie.


            But wait!  There’s more!
Alex Lifeson


            I composed and recorded three songs ( edited and mixed on this computer that blogs to y’all) and put them on my iPhone . . .  I play all the guitars (bass and 6-string- man I sound like a braggart!) and drums on them (and an old Moog synth on one song);     
            I asked friends to play the piano and the trumpet . . . yes, one of the songs has a trumpet.  I asked her to play it like Miles Davis, and she obliged.  What a talent.  I’ll either post them to CFF here, or maybe my musician friend will let me post it on her site.  We’ll see, and I’ll let y’all know.

            Amazing what insomniacs can accomplish, eh?


            That’s all I have to say for today.  I’ll post something later on if it comes up and is worthy to be put in print.


            More stories are to follow- I promise.  Especially now that there is another school term  starting the day after tomorrow.

            I am going to interview three lady-friends for a documentary I am making.  I plan to write and play/record the score to it also.   I’ll let you know when it’s in post-production, and you can expect to see it shortly thereafter.


            So I bid you fond Auf Wiedersehn, mi amigos y amigas and Dear and Patient Readers.  You’ll hear from me soon.



Always,












The Cunning You-Know-Who . . .

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