(no subject)
Today I went to a homeless shelter in Washington to volunteer for the MLK Day of Service. It's like how people go to church, but only on Easter and/or Christmas.
It was cool. It could've been better organized though - for one thing, by the time we got there there was little left to be done, since the mayor and his volunteers had already been through in the morning.
I read James Joyce's "The Dead" yesterday; it's probably the best short story I've ever read. The characteristic Joycean epiphany at the end knocked the wind out of me. Maybe it's because I'm feeling so fucking miserable lately but it really depressed me. After I finished it I went straight to sleep and dreamt about women running up and down the hallways of derelict apartment buildings dressed as halved oranges and flapping their arms like chickens. Which is a fetish of mine, incidentally.
It was cool. It could've been better organized though - for one thing, by the time we got there there was little left to be done, since the mayor and his volunteers had already been through in the morning.
I read James Joyce's "The Dead" yesterday; it's probably the best short story I've ever read. The characteristic Joycean epiphany at the end knocked the wind out of me. Maybe it's because I'm feeling so fucking miserable lately but it really depressed me. After I finished it I went straight to sleep and dreamt about women running up and down the hallways of derelict apartment buildings dressed as halved oranges and flapping their arms like chickens. Which is a fetish of mine, incidentally.