-- � alors -- eventful couple of days; my parents' Christmas parcel, which I sedulously avoided opening until the Feast of Mithras the Unvanquished (I spent much of the morning composing companion verses to Have yourself a merry feast of Mithras / Fill your hearts with glee / From now on we'll celebrate Tauroctony) was finally put to light. My mother's shortbread, check. Chocolates, check. A book entitled Caring for Older Adults. Thank you parents. If you are actually reading this, o honored parents, I'm only joking about that gay sex thing. You know my crazy sense of humor! Ha, ha, ha. Me and the lads have a jolly laugh about calling each other poofters.
After a peaceful, eggy-and-coffee-y breakfast, with the house all to myself, I watched Kind Hearts and Coronets on TV, still my favorite Ealing film ever, with Alec Guinness as everybody.
N.B.: I must apologise most sincerely for my link to the Pussy Snorkel. Even though the words "Pussy Snorkel" reduce me to paroxysms of (I'm sorry:) hysteria, I must appreciate that such frankness about sexual toyage is not necessarily meet pueris virginibusque. In the future, I shall endeavor to print the naughty sections of my diary in white text so that they must be highlighted to be read. Lest a precocious, polyglot nine-year old should perhaps stumble across my diary and be disheartened by my evocative descriptions of my lack of sexual finesse. Speaking of precocious children, The Royal Tenebaums is clever. Check the earlobes, dudes!
Somebody gave me Play-Doh. I wasn't expecting to get it; thank you, J from work (no, not that J; J is far too common an initial. Another, very nice J who went out of his way today when I mistakenly showed up for my shift three hours late. Then again, the management owe me something since Headquarters are still messing up my paycheck). After the movie, I took my Play-Doh to ECG's. We played the REM album Murmur on her record player and drank rum and cocoa. Which was by far the best part of my day off. The morning after sucked, though, since something about sweet and milky drinks makes the goddess Krapaile even more punitive. Which is Greek for the hangover sucking.
Current Musick: J-M Leclair, sonates pour fl�te-transversi�re, with Christoph Huntgeburth, Mitzi Meyerson and Hildegard Perl. Our forefathers compared him to Corelli for the flexibility, grace, and wit of his compositions. Huntgeburth I have never heard of before, at least not specifically, but it appears he's played with the Freiburger Barockorchester, if that helps you place him. Anyway, sensitive, good playing, underlining without distorting Leclair's sudden, illogical chromaticisms, and then resolving them cleanly and logically. The program notes emphasize, above all, Leclair's reputation for tasteful and expressive playing rather than flashy bravura, and I find that, undoubtedly, the best approach to such (ever so slightly) decadant music.
Current Book: What the hell happened to the new Lawrence Norfolk book I got from the library, In the shape of a boar? Long ago, in a small liberal arts college far, far away, my radiant Classics professor was describing the death of Adonis in her buttery Genoese accent: "He was killed by a whore. I mean, a boar." This is the same woman who became so enraged during a Peloponnesian War class that she shouted out, "Motherfucking Athenians!" Professor M, ere we part / Give, O give me back my heart / ΖΩ&Eta ΜOΥ ΣAΣ AΓAΠΩ! I hope the rumors about Professor B are unfounded.
Current Naughty Pleasure: A renascence of Tolkein Slash Fiction. For those of you confused by my continued unabashed geekiness -- I was uncool before uncool was cool. And KG can back me up on that.
Current Related Trivia Question: How does one say, "lick me right here" in Sindarin?