Mrs Dream-Pushcart noted that people don’t blog on LiveJournal as much as they used to. Hmmmm, guilty as charged. Nowadays I blog when I want to report in to people who wander through here, or if I have something to tell them. I came to the conclusion that I can network with people if I needed to. As for reading material I aggregate a lot of stuff on my akregator and read them off my computer. Evern there several busier blogs have been dropped from my reading list, because I don’t have time. This hasn’t stopped me adding more blogs to the aggregator.

It has proved to be a good week for meeting fleshbots. I had two encounters at the university library while I was waiting for an open lecture on Scottish emigration. When I got to the lecture I saw two more people I knew including one of our archives volunteers who has returned from overseas. Then while I was visiting a intellectually handicapped community house on the other side of town on Saturday I met up with a former member of the Otago Mediaeval Society whom I hadn’t seen for several years. That was a surprise. I liked her motorbike as well.

Speaking about motorbikes I have picked up my first Christmas present for 2010. My brother in Wellington, the Ghost who walks, paid for my first motorcycle helmet so I have it for when we travel down to Invercargill on Christmas day. Cool!

A friend invited me to the belly dancers’ end of year hafla. I have now been to enough of these that I’m beginning to enjoy what the dancers are doing. A selection of tunes they used include Istanbul is not Constantinople; Iko, Iko; an instrumental piece with tubas (yes, really!); a 9 beat Fusion to Rondo alla Turca (a piece I have seen before and enjoyed a repeat showing); and a charming piece that Tom Lehrer could envy called

We’ll meet again my dear on doomsday
Pigs will be flying through the sky
On the 12th of never
At a quarter past forever
Stricken with the rapture
We’ll watch the world’s demise

We’ll meet again my dear on doomsday
A hint of Armageddon fills the air
Now that Hell has frozen over
And the sun is growing colder
We’ll be drawing closer
Cuz there’s no more time to spare

We’ll meet again my dear on doomsday
A shower full of frogs and toads
But as bleak as it may be
Apocalyptic revelry
Hand in hand we’ll tiptoe
Through the carcasses and bones

The air’s too thin to breathe on doomsday
At last we face the reckoning
And blood will fill the sea
Cobwebs will cover you and me
As flames engulf the remnants
Of this grand catastrophe

It’s Doomsday
It’s Doomsday. Hmmm, a dance to look forward to at the end of the world! The evening contained plenty of colour, and also a solo performance by Cydonia Nitrate, a industrial gothic belly dancer of national calibre. Her costume alone was singular. She was not alone among outstanding performers. Dancers were putting on their best choreography to commemorate the end of the year. I really should start dragging people along! (You have been warned!)

Didn’t get to Majellan today. I decided that diversions yesterday distracted me from the Metropolitan Opera Boris Godunov, so I attended it this afternoon. Wow, what an opera. You have to be Russian to write something like that! (You do not pray for the tsar Herod. The holy virgin forbids it, a devastating quote from the holy fool in the opera.)

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