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Eleven months of the year on the road with you, my dear
I did not dream that I discovered a book of short stories by Lloyd Alexander; it just existed in the children's library collection of the church where part of the dream was taking place. It was from the mid-'80's and had little sandy-looking pen-and-ink illustrations like chapter headings. I remembering being particularly struck by the one for Vesper Holly.
I am awake at this hour because I'm going to be part of this parade: "Reclaim the Streets for Horns, Bikes, and Feet!" The last time I was in a parade, I was still in the Girl Scouts. This time, I got invited by old-time radio people. I have dressed accordingly. I hope someone takes photographs.
I am awake at this hour because I'm going to be part of this parade: "Reclaim the Streets for Horns, Bikes, and Feet!" The last time I was in a parade, I was still in the Girl Scouts. This time, I got invited by old-time radio people. I have dressed accordingly. I hope someone takes photographs.
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Have a wonderful day,
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See next post. It was awesome.
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Hah. Thank you! I did!
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I know for a fact some were taken: I'll let you know if I get hold of any.
Damn, I wish I'd realized this was going to involve Emperor Norton's--I might have come down to Boston myself just to watch!
I didn't realize you didn't know! I'll tell you the next time I know they're playing.
[edit] They're going to be in Providence tomorrow. I'm guessing that doesn't help.
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It seems to be the weekend for bike/music festivals. There was one going by outside the front door this morning; I joined in with the borrowed backpackers' suitably festive fixie (bright yellow & purple). Hoping also for photos!
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I do get a lot of dream books, although I think I get more dream theater and movies. Also, occasionally, art, which I really resent not being able to reproduce.
It seems to be the weekend for bike/music festivals. There was one going by outside the front door this morning; I joined in with the borrowed backpackers' suitably festive fixie (bright yellow & purple).
Nice! I was instructed by
Hoping also for photos!
Will keep you posted!
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I wish I could have a peek at that Lloyd Alexander book. Why can't dreams be sharable?
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Dude, I wish I had that!
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That would be a ghost poem and a half . . .
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The Post-Meridian Radio Players!
("The National Theatre!")
Why can't dreams be sharable?
I write them down! I'm trying!
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You do! You do, and I'm grateful! And you do put them into my mind, clear as a bell--it's the tactile part I miss.
And I see you've posted about the parade--can't wait to read! Will there be photos?
And the Post-Meridian Radio Players' page that you linked to, at the top, where the radio dial is, it rotates from "The Post-Meridian Radio Players" to "Hub of the Universe Productions". . . but it says something for where my mind is at that at first I saw "Hub of the Universe Poppadoms"
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It is true I cannot give you Lloyd Alexander's writing. I wish there was more of that.
And I see you've posted about the parade--can't wait to read! Will there be photos?
I know some were taken—I'll post if any turn up!
but it says something for where my mind is at that at first I saw "Hub of the Universe Poppadoms"
Well, they already make a house coffee syrup . . .
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win!
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I bought a bottle for my brother at the last Halloween show. It was trying to get more before the next October (which I did;
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My favorite parts of the parade were the stilt-walkers of all sorts, the hula hoopers, the ghastly undead bison (what the hell was that about?), the blue dove puppets and the band playing the Tetris theme, which I can now only call "A Brief History of the Soviet Union."
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Yes; we marched all the way from the parking lot behind Elm Street to the little park in front of Grendel's Den. The top of my head would have been covered with a tweed flat cap. Rob would have been the wild-haired fellow in the headache glasses and the lab coat.
If you saw a woman in a yellow bonnet, paisley pashmina and red 1860s dress, that was me getting ready to lead a walking tour.
I'm afraid not, but I'm glad you were there!
the ghastly undead bison (what the hell was that about?)
It had a sign on the rear bumper reading "Don't Get Buffaloed by Scott Brown," but I think a DIY bison is its own excuse. It reminded me of a Mari Lwyd.
the band playing the Tetris theme, which I can now only call "A Brief History of the Soviet Union."
We didn't hear most of the bands due to being positioned between just two of them (and leaving before the Harvard Square Oktoberfest started), but that makes me very happy to hear.
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That's a grand concept for a parade. I might actually go to such, were it happening in my vicinity.
The last time I was in a parade, I was still in the Girl Scouts.
Still, you're most likely ahead of me on the number of parades you've been in. I once marched in a St. Patrick's Day parade in Stamford or somewhere like that, mostly because the band I was playing with were doing one set before and one set after and we were invited to fill up the time between by joining the Ancient Order of Hibernians or somesuch.
As we waited for the parade to start there were WWII or Korean War re-enactors with a beautifully restored half-track who were conversing with somebody in an Easter Bunny costume. Sadly, it was before I started carrying a camera at all times. I was hoping the Bunny would actually ride on the halftrack, but no such luck.
I hope there were photographs taken, and that some will be posted online.
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I can't imagine there isn't comparable activist brass in New York City.
I was hoping the Bunny would actually ride on the halftrack, but no such luck.
It's still a good juxtaposition.
I was in a Girl Scout troop from second through sixth grade: every other girl in my class was. I think my parents thought it would bond me with them. I just remember it giving me another setting to be ostracized in. And we didn't even learn very much woodcraft! I envied my mother, who grew up in Kansas and Oklahoma: she was a Camp Fire Girl. I still have a thing for the cookies that used to be called Samoas, though. I sold a record number one year and traded the points in for a stuffed animal for my brother.
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I can't imagine there isn't comparable activist brass in New York City.
True, but I don't have acquaintance to my knowledge with any of the folk involved in such. It's no fun without that.
It's still a good juxtaposition.
I wish I'd had a camera, or at least that I were able to paint or sketch the scene in an adequate fashion.
I think my parents thought it would bond me with them. I just remember it giving me another setting to be ostracized in.
I'm sorry for that, and I sympathise. I remember very similar experiences.
And we didn't even learn very much woodcraft!
It's always annoying when things work out that way. What's the point in going to camp or being a scout if one doesn't even learn to make a fire or acquire useful skills for being trapped on an island with an insane big game hunter, such as camouflage and the best way to build a mantrap with rope and sticks.
The cookies-formerly-known-as-Samoas are distinctly delicious, yes.