True love waits. And it ignores the musical deafness of its mate.
Especially in the case of MTM's sick, twisted obsession with Radiohead.
Every time he hears them, he is back at Rice University in Architecture Studio, slugging straight caffeine and drawing weird buildings until his fingers bleed and speaking modernist, minimalist gibberish to girls who think he is a zombie and flee screaming from his bug-eyed, black-clad presence on campus.
Here's evidence to support the claim that I can't dance.
Incoming Rotary Grand Poobah Lou Mello is a good sport. At the Peru GSE team farewell party last night, we found the best way to communicate was through singing. I stole Lou's iThingy, and MTM found some Spanish karaoke.
Here's Lou Mello, performing Spanish karaoke with Patricia and Ana from our Peru GSE team.
Steam blew out of her mouth and fogged her glasses against the backdrop of the night sky. Rubber-and-leather-clad feet crunched on gravel, echoing against the whip of flags in the wind, the sirens, the thrum of jet engines. Even with the ghostly pencil of stone carving a swath between a crescent moon and two planets, she sighed. The National Mall on a windy night wasn't her idea of a fun slog after a zig-zagging day of work, dashing from place to place to place around the District.
One of my responsibilities as President of the East Cooper Breakfast Rotary Club is High Priestess of Meetings. I run them, from the time a person walks through the door to sign in to the time they flee to the safety of their vehicles and go about their work days.
I endeavor to make them Entertaining.