So, I go to Duke Chapel to hear an organ recital...I love doing this; to me, it's just symbolic of winter Sunday afternoons when the sun goes down early. My eyes glaze over and cross and I imagine I'm in a church full of people in England...how did I get there? Am I on the run? Or, I look at the detail of the place and imagine all of the people who have lived who have been in this place that hasn't changed much in a long time, lots of people who are no longer around, and I'm wondering about their lives and...
...oh dear. What a little angel face. Yeah, and then all the squirming and monkey-like behavior started. After a few minutes of my being jarred from my daydreams, I got up and (as noted on Facebook, because this is cross-posted) moved to the other side of the aisle with the old people and gays. Which is where I should have been the whole time. No comments. Anyway, it was a nice program, a little safe (Brahms, Bach...no walkouts like the Messiaen piece from a few years ago) but still nice. I was waiting for the guy giving the recital to drop the hammer so I could feel it in my chest, but he never really did, sort of skirting it but we never quite got there. I think there's a Frenchman in a few months (March, I think), that'll be a sure thing then, because they are nuts on the organ, and this particular one
(that's to the back of me in the top photo) can go to 11.
In other news, I really want to see the Jean Claude van Damme biopic
. Maybe that can come and get rid of this god-awful "Rachel Getting Married" crap, that is somehow still hanging on at my preferred (single screen) theatre.