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my ghosts like to carouse
Feb. 29th, 2004 01:34 amAn evening on the town with friends. Somewhat rare for me.
First the unanimously enjoyable dinner at a restaurant called The Three Seasons, and then we were off to the Palace of Fine Arts to bathe in the harmonious vocal vibrations of an Accapella show.
Mouths and microphones. Pretty much loads of clean fun. The Copper Wimmin were different than last time - they were not painted copper but beautifully adorned with flowers. Welcome to San Francisco! Moosebutter were very funny, again. It was time well spent and I laughed during most of it and I may have teared up during one moment of one song of unrequited love. And some of the harmonies made the hair stand on my neck, which is a good sign.
Still with all the fun, there was something missing, someone was missing, and not only for me. (And to think that parting is a sweet sorrow. There are also salty, sour, and bitter sorrows.) Truly, my heart was there, but it was also elsewhere. There was a hole in my heart so to speak, a void, or perhaps a tunnel. Timing is an unforgiving tool with a raw scratch. Make my bed. Toss and turn. But its all right. Its all good.
First the unanimously enjoyable dinner at a restaurant called The Three Seasons, and then we were off to the Palace of Fine Arts to bathe in the harmonious vocal vibrations of an Accapella show.
Mouths and microphones. Pretty much loads of clean fun. The Copper Wimmin were different than last time - they were not painted copper but beautifully adorned with flowers. Welcome to San Francisco! Moosebutter were very funny, again. It was time well spent and I laughed during most of it and I may have teared up during one moment of one song of unrequited love. And some of the harmonies made the hair stand on my neck, which is a good sign.
Still with all the fun, there was something missing, someone was missing, and not only for me. (And to think that parting is a sweet sorrow. There are also salty, sour, and bitter sorrows.) Truly, my heart was there, but it was also elsewhere. There was a hole in my heart so to speak, a void, or perhaps a tunnel. Timing is an unforgiving tool with a raw scratch. Make my bed. Toss and turn. But its all right. Its all good.
