Today was the last day at my church before I move. I am sad to leave it, as it is a great place. The services are traditional and the building, tool--with carved altar and stained glass windows (with corresponding German texts). The churches I have to choose from in Virginia are all monstrous 60's and 70's brick and concrete sins against sensibility, but I pray that I can find a home there.
I was very pleased with the last service because we sang two of my favorite hymns, How Great Thou Art and Amazing Grace. I admit that these are rather cliché, but sometimes there is a reason things are cliché. In this case the cliché matches nicely with my own tastes so I have no reason to sneer.
So tonight I spend my last night in my apartment. It is 103 degrees according to the bank sign down the street. It was only 82 when I walked to church at 8:30 this morning and quite pleasant with a nice breeze. Now you break into a sweat immediately upon walking out of doors, but at least the breeze is still strong. I must admit that if you stay out of the sun it isn't half bad if you like to feel toasty. I am not enjoying dragging stuff out to the dumpster, so I'm going to stop until dinner time. All my radios are packed so I'm listening to the cable music stations. Even for someone of my questionable music tastes the pickings are slim. I'm currently struggling through Air Supply. Jesus, give me strength.
The next time you hear from me I will be a Virginian, although not necessarily in my new home as I've got to go to work during the week in the capitol of the Confederacy (I still have a month of work ahead of me). Ugh, Diana Ross. At least it isn't a song from The Wiz. I actually like Upside Down, not to mention my fondness for Mahogany, of which you are no doubt familiar. On the whole, though, I'm not a diva fan. Perhaps if I were a bit more homosexual? But then that'd mean I'd be Catholic already, too. (JOKE! I'm joking...sort of.) ZZ Top. Can't say I'm a fan. This song always make me think of cheap pantyhose commercials. I'll leave it at that. Man am I fading. Maybe I shouldn't blog with heat stroke. Oh! Howard Jones!! No One Is To Blame--one of the classics of cheese ballads. I love it. That syncopation just gets you right here, man.
I'd like to put together a Chicago photo montage for you, so keep checking in this week. If I can find a way to link it up with cheesy music, ah! that would be so Lileksian.