who?
seventeenth july | three post meridiem
Into the sea / You and me
I have this lingering cold that won't go away. My nasal passages are woven with dripping stalactites and stalagmites of snot, and my soft palate feels like it�s going to rupture each time I cough. I�m at work anyway, with two major projects needing finishing and already having bagged off Monday to spend it sunburnt on Whidbey Island. Some of us stayed at 19.5Appendages� cabin this weekend, whose grounds are so trellisy beautiful they rent the place out for weddings and receptions. On the road to the beach there are Tsunami Warning! signs with little stick men being tossed about by looming curly fingers. Behind the beach there�s a large bluff, and at the bottom of the bluff is sand so soft and deep we jumped off 15 foot ledges into it, barefoot, sinking almost up to our waists. Non-musicians should never crush on musicians; forget it; it ain�t gonna happen. If you�re lucky repeated disappointments will make you Pavlov�s bitch, and future encounters will leave you immune. Rock chiXors are cool, but not particularly sexy or desirable.
Polly Jean Harvey could still snap my neck with her thighs, though. Ahem.