2004-12-06
I found my Christmas music. This discovery is precisely comparable to a heavy smoker on the verge of a nic fit discovering a half smoked cigarette at the bottom of a plastic cup turned makeshift ashtray.I'm listening to Bing Crosby's "White Christmas," a song which I have always inexplicably associated with my late grandmother. Maybe it's the grandmotherly connotation, maybe it's the sheer yuletide baggage of the song itself, or maybe it's a combination of the two, but when I hear that song every image in my head takes on a soft focus. Were I running from a burning building and "White Christmas" came over the loudspeakers, I would probably slow to a stroll.
Oh man. And now it's Burl Ives' "Silver and Gold." From Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer? Don't even get me started on that.
It's the last official week of school. Next week is finals week. I'm here at campus early in hopes of doing some much needed catching up in HTML, but my special classroom is occupied by, imagine that, a class. So here I am back in the computer lab, catching up on something completely unsubstantial. This.
Now it's "Carol of the Bells," Metallica and the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. This is terrific because the song that follows on the CD is Dean Martin's rendition of "Silver Bells." Who says that the mix CD playlist hasn't evolved into an art form?
This past weekend was the big Bradley high school speech tournament. Those who practiced did well, those who did not practice got fucked. Good. Particularly pleasing was one student who picked up a rather well-deserved sweeps award, and let's not forget my student who won DI with the script that I wrote. 1st out of 60+ at the most competitive IE tournament in the midwest. An old friend of mine from high school - now a Bradley senior - who judged the final round is asking for the script to break out on the college level.
It's been a while since my ego has been so adequately stroked.
"The First Noel," Vienna Boys Choir. I was going to see them at the Cathedral Basillica but, go figure, they sold out. Next year. New York, LA, maybe St. Louis.
I took Kelly June out on Friday night after the tournament. We were mistaken for a couple at the Elbo Room. As I ponied up to the bar to order a last drink, a woman who cheered me on during "Walking In Memphis" turned to me said that I had a great girlfriend. I instinctively responded, "...Thanks!"
"How long have you been dating?"
"Oh, not terribly long. It's one of those things like, we met when we were in high school, you know? And now four years later, poof! here we are!"
"That is so sweet! Well she is just adorable. I hope you know how lucky you are!"
"Oh, you have no idea."
In a few months, I want us to tell this story to friends - paint this woman as psychic holding a rum and coke.
Tori Amos' "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" is the best best version of the song I've ever heard. Hands down, no contest. Judy Garland can knead my balls like hard-boiled eggs in a tube sock.
-Andy