Thursday, December 08, 2005
I awoke with the late, great Jeff Buckley singing in my head. The Christmas card count is up to six. I ran into Grounds Crew Dave for the first time of the semester. He was driving the trailor (why do I want to call it the Bagoda?...) and smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee. I wanted to comment on his awesome LIGHTNING BOLT EARRING, but I didn't want to insult him. Not that it would be an insult, because it is awesome. Fuck, I miss those guys.
When I was walking back to my dorm I witnessed a uniformed man picking up scattered bottles of Coke from the snowy ground. He is going to stock them in the vending machine and people are going to buy them. It makes the little obsessive-compulsive core of my being shudder. Sometimes all I can do is stare into the mirror for hours, not because I find myseld necessarily beautiful or ugly, but because I don't believe that anything is real. This seems wrong to me, like a dirty little secret I can't tell anyone. So now you know. I can laugh and laugh and I can draw congruent lines and when I get some initiative I can write some words, but I just can't pull my eyes away. Work, at this point, is incidental.* What I am looking forward to is going to see the midnight showing of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. And Holidazzle, and kind of to visiting the frosty haunted cemetary and to going home and everything after.
* That is not to say, however, that I don't adore Rob AND his class, because it takes a genius to teach a course so well that the massive final project is actually fun and easy. It is so cool to write for two people of whom I think so highly.
When I was walking back to my dorm I witnessed a uniformed man picking up scattered bottles of Coke from the snowy ground. He is going to stock them in the vending machine and people are going to buy them. It makes the little obsessive-compulsive core of my being shudder. Sometimes all I can do is stare into the mirror for hours, not because I find myseld necessarily beautiful or ugly, but because I don't believe that anything is real. This seems wrong to me, like a dirty little secret I can't tell anyone. So now you know. I can laugh and laugh and I can draw congruent lines and when I get some initiative I can write some words, but I just can't pull my eyes away. Work, at this point, is incidental.* What I am looking forward to is going to see the midnight showing of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. And Holidazzle, and kind of to visiting the frosty haunted cemetary and to going home and everything after.
* That is not to say, however, that I don't adore Rob AND his class, because it takes a genius to teach a course so well that the massive final project is actually fun and easy. It is so cool to write for two people of whom I think so highly.
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