Seldom-glimpsed Great Old One Yog-Sothoth, the All-In-One and One-In-All makes an unusual appearance in London to ponder the fleeting nature of the seasons, to enjoy the stunning views along the river, and to drive a few of the simpering locals into an irrevocable, gibbering, terror-born madness.
NOBODY puts Bubbly in the corner!
Let me tell you a story.
No, let me set a scene, then tell you a story. That’s probably not the way max would have it done, but then max isn’t pulling an all-nighter and watching a thunderstorm out the window while slurping porridge (mixed “apples and cinnamon” and “maple and brown sugar”; what can I say, I’m a rebel) which I don’t mean to say means I shouldn’t write well, but that I am undoubtably the best writer in the world pulling an all-nighter and watching a thunderstorm out the window while slurping porridge (mixed “apples and cinnamon” and “maple and brown sugar”; what can I say, I’m a rebel) right now.
Or prove I’m not!
In any case, the scene is:
I’m pulling an all-nighter and watching a thunderstorm out the window while slurping porridge (mixed “apples and cinnamon” and “maple and brown sugar”; what can I say, I’m a rebel). Today I was going through a stack of unmarked CD’s for reasons of my own which shall remain nameless here for no particular reason except dramatic tension, frantically looking for one that was empty, and found a bunch with music files on them. I stuffed them into the backpack to transfer to the Zune later, and then Later arrived and I picked one up and put it in the laptop, preparatory to stuffing on the Zune, and it started to play and I stopped cold and went, “What IS that? That’s terrific!”
And “terrific,” I will have you know, is far too wholesome a word for me to use lightly.
Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar.
And what was it, this song that was so terrific? Well, I had to wait till it was ripped to find out, because I don’t care how good your eyes are, staring at an unmarked CD will NOT give you that information, not even if you tilt it. And does anyone remember the name of that guy? That guy who could tell you what album, what version, he was looking at just by, you know, looking at it? WITHOUT the album cover, duh. Well, do ya, punk?
Right, the song. It was this song, quelqu’un qui m’a dit, which you can download here. It’s by Carla Bruni, now First Lady of France. If you like whispery, fragile brunette Euros who can carry a delicate tune, you’ll like this.
On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grand chose,
Elles passent en un instant comme fanent les roses.
On me dit que le temps qui glisse est un salaud que de nos chagrins il s’en fait des manteaux pourtant quelqu’un m’a dit…
Refrain:
Que tu m’aimais encore,
C’est quelqu’un qui m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore.
Serais ce possible alors ?
On me dit que le destin se moque bien de nous
Qu’il ne nous donne rien et qu’il nous promet tout
Parais qu’le bonheur est à portée de main,
Alors on tend la main et on se retrouve fou
Pourtant quelqu’un m’a dit …
Refrain
Mais qui est ce qui m’a dit que toujours tu m’aimais?
Je ne me souviens plus c’était tard dans la nuit,
J’entend encore la voix, mais je ne vois plus les traits
“Il vous aime, c’est secret, lui dites pas que j’vous l’ai dit”
Tu vois quelqu’un m’a dit…
Que tu m’aimais encore, me l’a t’on vraiment dit…
Que tu m’aimais encore, serais ce possible alors ?
On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grand chose,
Elles passent en un instant comme fanent les roses
On me dit que le temps qui glisse est un salaud
Que de nos tristesses il s’en fait des manteaux,
Pourtant quelqu’un m’a dit que…
Refrain
God, I hope his name was James. He bought me lunch, you’d think I could make a point of remembering. At this point in Blogathon, however, I’m lucky if I can remember how to use the alphabet.
In any case, James, while appreciating a good snark and laugh as much as the next man, specifically requested that I post something genuinely moving tonight, and as I was sifting through my Tumblr for blog fodder, I found this video, and played it.
And I started to cry.
So here, James. This aught to do it even if you HAVEN’T stayed up all night. Behold one of the living natural treasures of the West Coast, Shane Koyczan, performing his spoken word poetry on Beethoven.
This is a Blogathon post. Don’t just sit there, SPONSOR ME!
Normally this is the kind of thing I see just as I’m packing up to go home from the office at about 6am. And yes, that IS the view from our windows. Today, as you’ll know if you’ve been following along, this is the thing I saw as I started work, after a scant four hour nap (entirely inadequate, but the best I could coax my disoriented body into cooperating with me on). The goal today is 48 blog posts in 24 hours, from 6am Saturday to 6am Sunday.
At some point on Sunday I’m supposed to show up and be coherent for a baby shower. I may be fetal myself, by then. The energy drink hangover is going to be brutal.
Oh, by the way that photo is by my friend Duane Storey. A great benefit of being a blogger in Vancouver is that you get to sponge off your more talented friends. I’m stealing Duane‘s pictures, eating food that Rebecca, Jen, and Karen have organized. For a full report of the gourmet experience of Blogathon, stay tuned. I think i still owe about thirty posts!
This is a Blogathon post. Don’t just sit there, SPONSOR ME!
Not just because it’s a Polaroid (which I love, and which are always bouncing onto and off of the endangered list) and it’s beautiful, but also because the photographer is using the nom de shutter of Squidfingers. And you know how we love our tentacles and our squid. In fact, in our experience, only good things come of making the acquaintance of people with the word “squid” in their names. Why, it was HappySquid who invited us to the Bombay in Vangroover event, and when you combine squid with gin, you make raincoaster very, very happy.
Shaken AND stirred.
This is a Blogathon post. Don’t just sit there, SPONSOR ME!
raincoaster 