fucking euphoric

Imagine, it's about 1901 or so. Guiseppe Verdi has died (he was oddly born a french citizen, due to the fact that he was from a town in northern italy that happened to belong to Napoleon's New Empire at the time). Being proudly nationalistic, he helped greatly and supported extensively the great national movement to repatriate all of Italy led by Garibaldi) His body is being moved from its original cemetary to the one located on the grounds of the beatiful home for retired musicians that he founded with all his money. As his coffin was being transported, thousands upon thousands of people came to watch him be placed next to his beloved at this cemetary.

They spontaneously began to sing the March of the Hebrew Slaves from Verdi's Nabucco. When I've finally achieved my dream and am living in Firenze (Florence, y'all), this choral masterpiece will be my alarm clock. I want it to be the first thing I hear every day.

All must listen.

holy crap!

http://news.sky.com/skynews/article/0,,30200-1301940,00.html?f=rss

c'mon, seriously? that is so cool. and don't rain on my parade, man! (pee in my cornflakes, harsh my buzz, etc)

for now, it's really really cool.

update

so i've been a good bachelor, apart from a ridiculous past weekend. friday i had some beer for dinner, watched Cloverfield (whee! lots of fun, but i failed to grow as a person), drank more beer and tasty tasty whiskey, retired to the Deeg and continued to drink myself stupid. i woke up at 1pm (!!!) and stumbled home. a slice of toast and 2 hour nap later, and off i went to my cousin's place in RDP for more of same. by the time ali saw my face on skype sunday afternoon, i apparently looked like "i'd gone back to my old ways (for those of you who know me...)".

she comes back this saturday at 3pm. i may not stop hugging her until sunday evening or so.

here ya go!

Hi all,
Frightened as I was of Canadian rye whiskey (and rightly so, considering my deep deep bond with mellowed southern bourbon), I stumbled upon a massively tasty cocktail last night. The choices were Labatt blue (dear God in heaven), unknown wine, rye whiskey, or amaretto. I had brought over some ginger ale, at the request of mein dear friend, but was unnerved by the whiskey. It just sat there on the table, vibrating slightly as if about to scream SHAZAM! and fly off, ricocheting destructively off anything breakable in the room.

The ginger ale I combined with 3 fingers of amaretto in a highball glass with two icecubes. The result was, as Ffej put it, something that tasted like really good melted icecream.

Be warned. It’s freaking sweet, probably could use a splash of bitters and a fruit wedge to make it a full-fledged cocktail, and while the colour is akin to a nice scotch amber, it is very “gin and tonic” looking, at least image-wise. (y’know, there’s the hot martini-sipping mini-skirt, the rugged Harrison ford scotch drinker, the Oi! Oi! Oi! vodka shooter, and the used-car-salesman-in-a-rumpled-suit g&t nervous stir-er). However, if you’re looking for something tasty every once in a while, consider this the liquid version of a piece of Dunn’s cheesecake: Something you seldom have but find really tasty when you do, and be sure to stop at 2 servings or you WILL be sick.

*hic*

Thanks. Carry on.

Oh, and the excitement at how soon I will be seeing Cloverfield knows no bounds. This is the second time something this cool has happened to me. The first was when I found out about Romero’s Land of The Dead about 2 weeks before it opened (Holy Crap! I can’t WAIT to see that movie!!! When is it coming out, like next year? Oh! Next week! YAY!). The second was yesterday. I was reading that Diary of the Dead was going to come out shortly (yay! Yay! Yay!) and happened on a few commentors mentioning “Cloverfield”. Having no idea what it was, on to google I went. Imagine my joy at discovering this treasure and finding out that it opens tomorrow!

*happy feet*

:(

with ali in europe over the next couple of weeks, i'm kind-a bummed.

on a totally unrelated note, let's all try this and see how much it improves our commutes and lives in general. when you're stuck in traffic and you see some poor soul trying to shift lanes next to you, turn signal blinking impotently, LET HIM IN. do it graciously, with a hand gesture. oh, and if someone in this fucking rat-hole socialist paradise pit of a province lets you in instead of flooring his car to block you, thank him with your four-way flashers (it's how truckers say thanks, by blinking them three or so times).
you'll find yourself less hostile when you get wherever you're going. also, it may eventually show the Plebes that courtesy is a better default setting when living together in a village of millions than me-first-ism.
one other thing. keep in mind, when deciding to block someone (weak minded fools thinking that maintaining a 6 foot lead will somehow empower them, make their lives a little less useless, and so on), that I am not alone in having enough cash to repair both my car and pay lawyer fees. i probably won't do it, cuz between my frequent travelling and gun permit i don't need the legal aftereffects, but someone will someday just try to climb his car over yours and place his fist in your brain stem.
hey, it's two for one! while i'm at it, it would be a better place if folk kept in mind that the purpose of their car horn is to caution or warn others who may not see them (rather than to "yell" at the car in front of them for some random "offense"), the middle finger is for wearing gaudy silver rings when you're in your early twenties, and cell phones numb the already sluggish brain (making it even more difficult to do the walk/chew gum thing that rush hour driving is all about).

that is all.

get up, champ! get UP!

Dang. 'Keep writing that thingie' would have been a great New Year’s resolution, if I were into making those types of resolutions…

I’ve lost the momentum again, which is a crying shame, as I was having a lot of fun with that last one. What I’m going to end up doing is re-reading, maybe think about it over 2 fingers of Rebel Yell, and then see if I can get the ball rolling again. Maybe that will be my main way to pass the time while SWMBA is off in Europe doing her thang…

Ideally, my writing occurs in an environment where I’m voluntarily isolated from everyone, but they’re within immediate reach for those ‘holy crap that was so fucking awesome!’ bits of the story, so I can scurry out to wherever they are, have them read it (if they’re allowed) or just have a smoke while I irritate them by riding the high. Once my heart rate has climbed back down to relatively normal, off I go back into solitude and pound out a few more awesome bits (wow, that sounds obscene)…

Ideally. Mayhaps I’ll just hang out at my buddy’s place in the evenings, if he’s cool with it, and try the optimal way. I can’t see myself building the same momentum alone chez nous, as there are far too many distractions. Once I’ve built a good thick head of steam I can write pretty much anywhere. It’s that beginning (or in this case re-beginning) that is just so important.

Oh, and as I’ve mentioned in the past, my ultra-magnificent micro laptop has no fan, so it feels as though I’m typing on a keyboard made from slightly warm laundry. Veeeeeery comfortable.

Excelsior!

oh, definitely, sparky! this week!

sorry i didn't get back to you, but I was joyfully unplugged for a week.
we'll definitely imbibe very very shortly.

on another note, 'twas a great holiday. getting the warm and regular messages from my dear friend who was extremely wise in deciding to spend new year's in scotland. the rat bastard.

oh, i was reading the journal of someone whom i think is wise and clever, and in her new year's day entry so perfectly captured that rapturous feeling i recall so well that it depressed the hell out of me...

all must read (at the very least her January 1 entry)
http://thesmokingsection.wordpress.com/