(bad) hair, mechanical bulls, anti-freeze, and ivan

Music: Icon of Coil: Machines Are Us The conference was interesting.

I regret to report that A Flock of Seagulls played at the House of Blues on Saturday night, and that I was there. The band managed to hold out for the “I Ran” encore for over an hour by subjecting us to various random songs from their impressive oeuvre. We had fun; the band mistook that for a canonizing impulse. We were only laughing, but they seemed pleased just the same. It was a win-win situation of beaming. I suppose.

Afterward, a member of our party rode a mechanical bull, and then we headed to the Whirling Dervish, the place to be scene. I tried to hit on someone one, if I recall correctly, but she was more interested in Jen. The other eligibles hovering around were all Roger’s ex-girlfriends, or skinny reeds obviously into blow. I think if I get some tattoos I could be somewhat competitive, at least in bars for the black-clad and almost jobless, but I don’t put things in my nose, well, nothing other than my fingers, and usually then when only trying to liberate a fugitive.

Someone’s dog is barking loudly outside. It is a high-pitched bark, and it is incessant. I dream of anti-freeze.

Much work to be completed this week. The seminar is moving along, and I think I will have a pretty good idea of the book I want to write come December. There are grumblings the class is more formal and less “open” than the last seminar, which bums me out, but then again, one feels much more comfortable speaking when there are eight pairs of eyes on you. There are seventeen in this one, so I think folks feel less inclined to share. My pretentious ass rambling on in defense of this or that binary probably doesn’t help.

Ivan the hurricane seems headed to the gulf. On that note, I think I need a beer.