Oct. 12th, 2021

jazzfish: a black-haired man with a big sword. blood stains the snow behind (Eddard Stark)
It's snowing outside, but it wasn't for the two-hour drive home last night. I did catch a few glimpses of an amazing aurora borealis, though, all white-green and swoopy.

I have tea and a chapter of A Night in the Lonesome October, and then probably further into my physically delightful SubPress The Kingdom of Gods. Last night I finished a third reread of The Scholars of Night, at which I got to say GODDAMMIT MIKE. One of the joys of rereading JMF's books is the increasing frequency at which I get to say GODDAMMIT MIKE as I pick up on yet another buried gem. I had pancakes, but they are sadly all gone.

I vacuumed this morning for the first time in weeks. I always forget how much "not walking on dirt / bits of dried mud in bare feet" immediately improves my mood and my quality of life.

Last week I got a small Bluetooth speaker and set it over my stove. It's now playing "Kind of Blue," though I think it's nearly over.
The rain falls down,
The wind blows up,
I've spent all the pennies
In my old tin cup.
--Clyde and/or Wendy Watson, Father Fox's Pennyrhymes

The Kelowna trip had some very good parts and I am still assessing the damage both fiscal and personal/interpersonal. But that's an Afternoon job, at the earliest.

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Adventures in Mamboland

"Jazz Fish, a saxophone playing wanderer, finds himself in Mamboland at a critical phase in his life." --Howie Green, on his book Jazz Fish Zen

Yeah. That sounds about right.

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