strike three

Okay.

Going to the Aurafice has lately become a trend for me, but it is not without its problems.

Yesterday, there were the two loud and annoying people with a very smelly dog.

Today, the girl behind the counter is listening to the most indescribably horrid music it has ever been my distinct misfortune to come across. Except possibly powernoize. No... no, this is worse than powernoize.

It's discordant. It's jangling. Random notes are struck on pieces of metal, untuned electric guitars are smashed, amps are overloaded, and drums are struck randomly, as some whiny little avante-garde brat half-sings, half-speaks lyrics which can only be described as Worse Than Goth Poetry in this shrill little voice that manages to have adenoid issues at the same time.

It makes me want to leap over the counter and remove the girl's esophagus with my teeth so that this pain can end and we can listen to something more pleasant.

But I'm wearing my favorite shirt, and Selena is on AIM, so I am rooted to the spot.

I'll be at the Mercury, at least for a bit.

the logic of lovers

The logic of lovers is a strange thing, but those who know its secrets can dissect their motives and discern their intentions. The fortunate few who know the truth of it then learn exactly how it is that love conquers all, for while the logic of lovers may appeared flawed -- it still and always triumphs in the end. Once one has uncovered that secret, one cannot help but succeed in any endeavor to which that logic has been applied.