The non-post!

The wireless internet in our place hasn't risen from last night, apparently. It occasionally sends out a few spurts of signals, just for good measure, but hits the snooze button directly after doing so. Thus, my connectivity meter is looming perilously in the red, walking along a taut string that could mean any picture-filled post could topple at the next whim of the internet machine. And while I could waltz down the melodramatic and sinuous hallways, false poetic and gluttonous on words, I'll avoid it. We've all got things to do, like cook with the pasta sauce and garlic and tomatoes and cheese that I just bought. So yes, come to London. I'll cook you a pasta dish with sauce and cheese and other adornments!

So we'll let the Belle and Sebastian post marinate in the bowels of my computer right now, but I'll just say that it was better than the beer fest. Second just to being born. Second to dying, too. <--- (they, 12 of them, played that song during the show).