|DIARY OF AN URBAN MILKMAID|
|For some reason today, despite the relaxing theme, beautiful weather, clean house and reading material - I was feeling extraordinarily BITCHY. I refused to give the homeless guy outside the supermarket any money. I ran past a slow, elderly man in the supermarket, just because he was slow. I griped at the workers in the Starbucks island at my store. Why do they even bother to have a Starbucks, when they don't offer decaf Frappuccinos? I'm all "you guys! you guys!" and put my money back in my wallet and stomped away.
I did have a nice conversation with my ex today. Until we got on the subect of jazz. It's always been a sore spot for us - in his mind, the reason we didn't make it.
He is sort of veering away from his Swing stuff, and starting up with a new group and doing some D'jango Reinhardt (sp?) Gypsy Jazz. He was telling me all about it and I was nodding away, like I always did. And then, I made the same mistake again. I mentioned some kind of jazz he doesn't "approve" of. I told him I had seen Chick Corea on PBS last night, playing with the Boston Pops, and how wonderful I thought it sounded. Ohhh. I haven't seen that face he made in five years! Yessir. I got the look. Nope Milkmaid, you are simply not evolved enough to appreciate real music. Chick Corea is just, I don't know, too commercial? Too predictable? Too something. He quickly changed the subject and left with his daughter.
It's kind of funny in a way. I'm the one who can read music. I'm the one that took music lessons her entire childhood. I'm the one that was the music major in college. I'm the one who performed at the effing Dorothy Chandler Pavillion a couple of times back in the '70's. He's just some doofus who happens to be a really talented, untrained bass player from Hell. But somehow, I'm not able to discern what is and what is not acceptable music.
Gee. It must suck to be me.
SLAY ON BUFFY!!
|Buh Bye! |
October 05, 2008
Be Afraid, People.... Really Afraid
One Last Bitchfest for the Road
Get the Popcorn Ready
I'm a Rich Ho-Bag
|Marriage is love.|