Well, leftover hamantaschen and rugelach left over from a funeral Tiffany catered on Thursday. They were still pretty good, though.
A long week comes to an end, to reveal three days off for me. Last night I went to see the Great Lakes Myth Society at the Blind Pig. The weather improved considerably, hovering between 50 and 75 Fahrenheit all evening--I walked home in my sweater. The show had some interesting surprises, too. There was an unexpected amount of human contact, as the cocktail server (if "The King of Beers" can be considered a "cocktail") Livy and Hailey, a library clerk who recognized me from... well, the library, came to ask what I was reading (Vanity Fair, which I finally finished this afternoon--highly recommended; deceptively Dickensian mawkishness drenched in acid). I actually got into a conversation with the latter, who plans to attend library school as well.
Opening for the GLMS were Starling Electric, a late-60s influenced band and the Singles... another late-60s influenced band. Most of the bands I like in the area are 60s-influenced, definitely my two faves, Saturday Looks Good To Me and the Avatars. I wonder sometimes whether rock music has hit some sort of creative ceiling, only able now to recycle various bits and pieces from its past into new forms. Of course, I guess the same can be said for any creative endeavor. C.S. Lewis, when talking about writing in "On Stories," pointed out that humans never think of anything genuinely new, only processing things they already know or perceiving and combining them into other constructs (the first time, so far as I know, that the word "constructs" has appeared in this blog, and hopefully the last).
The bands were pretty good, although the smoke used by Starling Electric made me think of bedrooms with towels stuffed under the doors and pot smoke filling the inside, a nice, healthy dose of early Yes on the stereo (not that that's a bad thing at all--I've come to be reunited with my own love of early Yes, the years before Rick Wakeman decided to become an Arthurian ice-skating impresario). The Singles were... jangly, that's the best way I can think of describing them. I didn't enjoy the "Gloms" as much as I thought I would--I think I was tired. As I'd been up since four in the morning that was certainly plausible. A weird mood came over me and I left about three-fourths of the way into their set. I don't understand why, either--some of the guitar work was the most intricate and accomplished I'd ever heard at the Pig (I don't play guitar, but it sure sounded intricate and accomplished to me).
I bought potatoes this morning. My life is a raging, churning torrent of anarchy.