Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Sometime during the course of yesterday evening, an old Cyndi Lauper song took root in my head -- an insidiously catchy tune (easily the catchiest tune about masturbation I've ever heard), one I hadn't thought of in, er, eons. Centuries. So that I didn't mind having it as part of my interior soundtrack for a while, despite the '80s synth overkill.

Woke up this morning to find it still playing. Still sounding okay. I'll have to come up with a suitably infectious replacement soon, though, before its welcome is worn out.

Madrid's traditional Easter week quieting down continues. I've been connecting with Spanish folks lately, stepped out Monday evening for a couple of hours of conversation with one of them in a local joint, a personable guy named Jorge. When I headed home around 11:15, I found myself walking local streets quieter than I'd ever experienced them at that time of the night. At least for a weekday evening. A substantial percentage of the local world has taken off for distant points on the map, with more bolting every day. The classes I've been attending on a daily basis wrapped up for the week yesterday, five days of default vacation stretch out ahead, me not entirely sure what I'll do with myself during them (given that I've opted to remain in ever-more-peaceful Madrid, where the population seems to dwindling in visible fashion). Read. Eat. Relax, I suppose. Go to a movie or museum now and then. I'd say catch up on sleep, but my body seems to have indicated lack of interest in that during recent days, waking me up around 7 a.m. with old pop tunes cycling through my gray matter, eyes wide open, carcass feeling like it's had enough of snoozing.

Today being the kickoff of Easter weekend in this part of the world -- a far different, far heavier occasion than the version I grew up with in the States -- the one and only procession scheduled in the city center for tonight would carry some weight. Amazingly, rain moved in during the day -- the city's first rainfall of the year so far, and a blessing for water supplies. Coming down on the city center in the most benign way, with a light, springlike touch. Not looking to have thinned out the crowds much -- I'll be curious to see how it affects the atmosphere and turnout for the procession.

On the other hand, it's raining out. I'm home, comfy and warm. Maybe I'll stay put and let the city go its own way for the night.

That sounds like a plan.

Later.


Madrid, te quiero.

rws 6:17 AM [+]

Comments: Post a Comment
BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
January 2010
February 2010

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .