"Is the number 846 possible or necessary?"
I'm back in Pittsburgh, with a quarter tank of gas and $5 to my person. After waking from my post-6-hour-drive nap, one of my first thoughts was "Now I remember why I hate this place." In this house, it's deliciously easy to waste my time/days, and disgustingly difficult to find any good food. Saw Delicatessen, which rocked, and I've got a job interview tomorrow, though.
My Sole (Soul) Savior: amphetamines. I left all my meds and books in The City, but I read spare stuff from the freshman seminar handbook, some Rushdie, and Pinter. Quoth the Laureate:
"We have heard many times that tired, grimy phrase: 'Failure of communication'... I believe the contrary. I think that we communicate only too well, in our silence, in what is unsaid, and that what takes place is a continual evasion, desperate rear-guard attempts to keep ourselves to ourselves. Communication is too alarming. To enter into someone else's life is too frightening. To disclose to other the Poverty Within Us is too fearsome a possibility."
cliche reversal = yes.
/whining
Barnpoolparty was amazing/exhausting and I wouldn't trade it for the world, only perhaps a unbroken collarbone. Recall thinking, "I feel lecherous" though I can't remember the context.
Postbarnpool was great too. Nothing quite like the guilt inspired by living off the people you care most about. Recall thinking, "I feel leech-erous" in many different contexts, but that didn't stop me from eating more pizza. Many thanks, rockers and citykids.
No new music for you or for me, seeing as how I've returned to my speakerless computer.
(What a metaphor for Pittsburgh! Whenever I leave or return to the Simon's Rock Community at large, I think of an F. Scott passage. No, I'm not even kidding. It goes: "She had been away--he could have wept at the wonder of her return. She had passed through enchanted streets, doing things that were like provocative music. All mysterious happenings, all fresh and quickening hopes, had gone away with her, come back with her now." The girl in question is you, my friends.)
Pimp Shit has a new song, which will be available when Conor either sends it to me or uploads it himself. If you see him, punch him in the shoulder. Also, try and make him feel guilty about something.
P.S. Oh god now I'm looking at icanhascheezburger.com. I am
P.S.S. I have the first 495 pages of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on my computer.
My Sole (Soul) Savior: amphetamines. I left all my meds and books in The City, but I read spare stuff from the freshman seminar handbook, some Rushdie, and Pinter. Quoth the Laureate:
"We have heard many times that tired, grimy phrase: 'Failure of communication'... I believe the contrary. I think that we communicate only too well, in our silence, in what is unsaid, and that what takes place is a continual evasion, desperate rear-guard attempts to keep ourselves to ourselves. Communication is too alarming. To enter into someone else's life is too frightening. To disclose to other the Poverty Within Us is too fearsome a possibility."
cliche reversal = yes.
/whining
Barnpoolparty was amazing/exhausting and I wouldn't trade it for the world, only perhaps a unbroken collarbone. Recall thinking, "I feel lecherous" though I can't remember the context.
Postbarnpool was great too. Nothing quite like the guilt inspired by living off the people you care most about. Recall thinking, "I feel leech-erous" in many different contexts, but that didn't stop me from eating more pizza. Many thanks, rockers and citykids.
No new music for you or for me, seeing as how I've returned to my speakerless computer.
(What a metaphor for Pittsburgh! Whenever I leave or return to the Simon's Rock Community at large, I think of an F. Scott passage. No, I'm not even kidding. It goes: "She had been away--he could have wept at the wonder of her return. She had passed through enchanted streets, doing things that were like provocative music. All mysterious happenings, all fresh and quickening hopes, had gone away with her, come back with her now." The girl in question is you, my friends.)
Pimp Shit has a new song, which will be available when Conor either sends it to me or uploads it himself. If you see him, punch him in the shoulder. Also, try and make him feel guilty about something.
P.S. Oh god now I'm looking at icanhascheezburger.com. I am
P.S.S. I have the first 495 pages of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on my computer.