Of birthdays and blessings and being /bounce
Ok so it is horrifically cold. I have always had to have birthdays in the cold but seriously…the one year I attempt a bonfire braai with my heartpeople it is so cold we could use the tears of little children as toothpicks.
And yet…/beam.
MAN, I’m excited. My blood is literally fizzing with joy and expectation. I get to spend this freezing evening with people who make this world better. Who make me laugh and want to hug strangers at just the thought of their conversation. I also get to see The Original Camel Man’s younger brother. Yes, he of the cartilage removing kissathon…should be interesting all round.
Quick rundown of the guestlist:
MM & The Original Camel man and that fireplace & magnificent plot*, CC & almost-his redhead, Boaz & his almost wife, Russian Mafia guy (intense romantic with an israeli desert landscape mind),VT & her almost husband (both noted wits), El the Legend, WP (energetic/brilliant) & his S.O., CF, Leeloo & her S.O., Lovely Redheaded Photographer, Perfect Guy, Zallies & Cupcake, Divine RK (a rep for Maranatha), Famous Studio Muso & Badword (I’ve known them for 17 and 15 years respectively), Little Brother & his entourage, Brilliant Hungarian D, J&J H.
I think that is it. Will let you know what happened :)
1. Word of the day: fantabyhooby – one of Little Brother’s Entourage came up with this one, and smooch because it is such a delicious word
2. Insight of the day: Being loved is a wonderful feeling.
3. State of the pool: gluhwein
4. Random thought: How can people not celebrate their birthdays…it just boggles my mind.
5. Awesomest lines: An oldy but a goody.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas
*Yep, it is that lovely
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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