Steven (unzeugmatic) wrote,

Singing in the Kitchen

I'm still in a halfway state regarding my current job: I go in when I can and sort through files and papers and I write long detailed point-by-point memos about the status of my various projects. What I don't do is take breaks nd write up livejournal entries.

I took a 4-day break from going in to work when the soc.motss con came to town last weekend. soc.motss is a Usenet newsgroup I used to participate in. Many actual real-life friendships developed from this group. Once a year people who know each other from that newsgroup get together in a different city to hang out and go to restaurants and see a bit of the city. This year a group came to Minneapolis.

I didn't have anything to do with organizing this event, but I hung around for the weekend to see people and to do any random driving that was needed. The Wednesday before the con I invited all early attendees to my place for Chinese food, and that was a fine party.

jwg took some photos at my place, including this photo of me and my friends Jim and Denise (whom I invited to the dinner as well, in part to help out which they did) and my neighbor and landlord Stephen. We are singing "Seaman's Hymn" in my kitchen, very out-of-tune. But it's a cool photo, and you can see a bit of my fiestaware collection in my glass-fronted cabinet:

This one may take a bit of time to download. Ken R. took this video, of me and Jim and Denise singing while washing dishes. Actually, as my mother notes, Jim and Denise are doing the washing and I'm just standing around. But I did provide the gloves and apron. What we are singing is something that the late Canadian folkie David Parry wrote, one of his attempts to set the works of Robert W. Service to music. The original ("We are a People...") was too short, so I wrote a couple of extra verses. Ken caught us singing one of those verses.

So that's what I was doing instead of maintaining my online journal.

Now I'm in New Jersey, at my parents' home, preparing to head into NYC for a couple of days. Perhaps I'll find an Internet Cafe there.
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.