So, it's obvious I hope that this blog is on its last legs. I never write, I never call. Tut, tut. Don't know if it'll change or not, as I seem to be doing more "Sidra the Writer" type stuff on livejournal/dreamwidth, which, doesn't mean much anyway, and the purpose of this blog is political and social commentary, and writing.
We'll see what happens.
Anyway. There are times when one wishes to bust out in song, not to celebrate anything in particular, and not in a 76 trombones musical kind of way (or even a Victor/Victoria kind of way) but just bust out in song because it's been too long since the last time you busted out. So last night Freddie Mercury bust out in my head, champion that he is, and I regaled my neighbors I suppose, with a little a cappella "We Are the Champions". Yeah, baby, sing it! I miss Freddie Mercury. I miss the music of my childhood and youth, but is it that it's better music (and by what metric?) or is it that it's the music of my childhood and youth, before life got more and more difficult, and so many burdens accreted that now I feel like my own planetary disk. Feel free to spin off a small planet, oh, debt, oh loneliness, oh people who've fucked themselves over whom I cannot save. Spin off and orbit around me if you must, though I'd much rather you went all rogue planet on me and departed my gravitational well entirely.
Sigh. So much for astronomical metaphors.
Three links make a post, my friends:
Bitchin cool, as they used to say: Shepardess makes bridal gown from wool of her own sheep. It looks really cool, seriously, you gotta click on this.
Eunice Kennedy Shriver dies. I admire the Kennedy ethic greatly - with great gifts, comes the obligation to use them in service of others. Funny how the (frequently republican) politicos forget that the little people whom they oft disdain so much are in fact the people they are supposed to be working for.
I've been reading Iroquois Diplomacy on the American Frontier, let me tell you all about it.