Burning Trees and Buzzing Bees

Obviously, the promises of the former post will be ignored for the sake of discontinuity throughout this blog. Incongruity is next to spontaneity, and spontaneity is next to fresh, and that is what this blog is: fresh.
I am not wholly beguiled by Keren Ann; I have deemed her "too poppy and radio-friendly"; however, she is not the abomination some make her to be. Anywhoers, Dean and Britta are playing with KA (the affectionate initials) and D & B are a solid duo: certainly not a concert that will garner five "K's" (according to the Kowalski rating scale) but nonetheless has the potential for some auditory pleasure.
My camera does not receive nearly enough use: my first Facebook album in months features a mere seven photos -- but seven is a very biblical number so things could be worse.

My life needs structure.
Without structure I flounder around like a lost duck.
An indolent imposture is for the uninspired.

Oregon Girl

I have concluded the arduous examination period; the horror and terror were merely temporal. Now what? I shall voyage homeward tomorrow in my fancy jalopy, blaring B&S tunes and daydreaming of better things. I will connect with some old confreres and we will reminisce about older days and speak fondly of our futures. Perhaps I will even venture into terrible Toronto, and see an old Iranian buddy and chant Persian idioms such as: "Marg bar Amrika! Marg bar Amrika!" To prevent this blog from becoming be too esoteric I will translate that affectionate chant into English: "Death to America"! Of course, we do not actually wish death upon the lovely Great Satan, but we -- or at least I, like to understand and interpret other cultures by privately participating in their sordid activities. On the topic of America, and the notion that I have nothing to do, I will offer a brief insight into the coming Democratic and Republican nominations. Ladies first, so I shall begin with the Democrats. That previous sentence may come across as an insult, but I was merely alluding to Hilary.
Uh oh. Things have come up. I must depart this post immediately. Stay tuned -- you have 70 billion reasons to. If you caught the significance of that number, you deserve 4 political-hipster points. I must go... they are waiting.

Between The Flatland And The Caspian Sea

Church was canceled this morning due to snow. Through my window I see a pleasant tempest outside.
Four exams over the next three days. Tough break.

Remember when I desired to see Klaxons and Voxtrot, but decided I only had enough resources to venture to one show -- so I chose Voxtrot and they canceled on me.
You know, I cannot even recall the last concert I've attended. I have been desperately searching for shows, like a rabid dog hunts flesh -- and finally, I have found one: Keren Ann is playing circa early February in Toronto. Now, she has not cracked the top fifty on Last.fm, which is a touch concerning; however, I have faith that with some more listening, and in respect to her ethereal persona and Israeli/French ancestry, I could fade into a soft shade of love before today's end. She'll never be Hope Sandoval, but you gots to work with whats yous gots. One particularly salient con of KA (the affectionate initials, obviously) is that one of her lovely tunes was featured in some lame television show. Oh, well, even Mazzy Star has been reluctantly exploited by terrible pictures and small-screen series. At least she's not like Wilco and sells her soul to a car companies. By Jove! Wilco needs a shot in the arm. Anywhoers, this is quite the digressive tangent, so I will halt.

Study, study, or fail, fail. Although, if I study I will likely die and thus fail. Paradox. Fox in the snow.

This Side Of The Blue

I am unequivocally disenchanted with life today. Time is dawdling in the flowery fields, ignoring my desolate cries to hurry on.
In short, I am mildly bored for the first time in ages. Thankfully, I know the remedy to boredom a la Dorothy Parker: The cure for boredom is curiosity. What to do with this remedy? I don't know.
I have altered my schedule for next semester. After a meeting with the fine folks in the registrar's office tomorrow, my schedule should appear something like this:

Global History (Core)
Theatre (To stretch)
Philosophy of Religion (Core)
Reformation Theology (Gateway to better theology courses)
History of Missions (Because missionaries are hipsters: thin, arrogant, and they listen to obscure tribal music)

The forthcoming semester is churlish. Of course, school has always been churlish. Why should next semester be any exception?
Although next semester I have those grand volunteer plans which should integrate some immediate (if not temporal) meaning to my existence save studying and succoring my fellow confreres with their struggles.
Thomas Mann was brilliant, if not demoniacally possessed.

If You're Feeling Sinister...(Which I am not).

The basketball courts, through some meteorological phenomena, have turned to ice -- and it is very, very skater-friendly. We played hockey last gloaming and was likely the grandest gloaming, ever -- or at least for some time.
It is a poor time for such inexplicable beatitudes, for exams are nigh. I tapped one today. As they say around here, I pwned that sucker. I wrote for a longevity and a half, which translated to like ten pages and my print is rather small. Essay exams are relatively splendid insofar as exams being splendid are concerned. The forthcoming multiple choice exams will be deathlike. I have a flippin' week off, then I write four exams in three days. What a daffy sched. May be my downfall.
Is there a connection between Belle & Sebastian's "She's Losing It" and Cat Stevens' "Sad Lisa"? Good question. I don't know.
By Jove! I am beat: the soul, the root, of beatific.

Mary of Silence

This American election is tainting my Google news feed. The religious exploits are sickening -- and by Jove! that credulous mob is maddening! It's just one fantastic asylum with hordes of patients, scheming attendants, and a corrupt superintendent. The patients would organize a rebellion but they have been drugged with hallucinatory propaganda. But there's always that one patient; that patient that spits out their meds and finally sees. That patient -- Hope Sandoval.

Put on the kettle and mull over this beatific article.

Bavarian Fruit Bread

I passed.

To celebrate:
Being bashful in one's room
In a beatific state
with mellifluous Hope
harmonizing his soul
With the outer extravagance
of tangible noises

L'envoi
You may punctuate, but you cannot change
lanes.

Shine or Die

Today is the day I either prove my driving deftness or have my license rudely plucked from my hand rendering me doleful and car-less, which would be a Laura Dern shame 'cause:

I love my car
I'll admit today I've gone too far
To enamour myself with my little motor car

I wish I could say the same for you
The day will come soon when I look you in your eyes but
I won't see you

Ten hipster points for naming the artist of this catchy number.

Redeemer Intruders

So, I presented my little convoluted spiel on the Beat Generation and nobody was overly impressed. My public speaking skills are stagnant apparently. The very first thing Mike says after the completion of my presentation: "Wow. How many words of the day did you use?" Yass, I think the class got lost, but this gig was not meant for everybody -- particularly philistines and a man with a grade book. Some lad read a Trainspotting monologue and I forgot I was at Redeemer. Another fellow read a Death Cab For Cutie lyric and I desperately attempted to conceal my inner laughter.

I have class now and one tomorrow -- and then this semester's course schedule is complete. About time.

I changed my homepage from BBC to GoogleNews. Now I filter the news... sort of. The Israeli press usually offers some deep laughs. The world is dumb.

I forgot the friggin' crux

I've been pleasuring my auditory system with borderline female this-is-almost-pop-so-I-feel-guilty tunes lately, and consequently I feel rather guilty. I am just beguiled by Sarah Blasko and to a lesser extent, Leona Naess. Screw you both.
My hockey knowledge is extensive and perhaps I should cut back.
Tomorrow I am attending a legitimate church.
Frig.
I had a purpose to this post but my mind is blank. It does this often. I need a new mind.