Filler 8

Faustus was too wiped to work out this morning, so while he rested I was shanghaied by Ian to act as navigator for a trip to Blackheath, to see a recital by a string quintet plus his clarinet teacher, which was quite fun. Although I must confess I liked the non-clarinet pieces better.

On the way back we dropped into Tate Modern to have a look at The Weather Project, which is very striking in its scale, and rather ennervating (enough to make sick, apparently, the poor souls who have to work all day under its monochromatic glare), but artistically pretty thin, I thought. Not a patch on Marsyas, anyway.

Later on I received an email from someone I was, loosely speaking, at college with, who had come across this weblog by some random combination of circumstances and felt prompted to write. Which was interesting for various reasons to do with him, but also on a wholly self-absorbed level because that period is several universes away from who I am now, and yet I live literally across the street from that college, and occasionally see people around here that I remember from those days, who, as best I can tell, don't remember me at all. And it is really just odd to be always in such close proximity to something that once consumed so much of my life, and yet be so removed from it at the same time.

Anyway, it just adds to the pile of things I need to write about properly some time.

In the meantime, though, sleep well all. Mwah!
Posted by matt at November 3, 2003 12:15 AM