Just got back from an awesome coffee trip with
academentia to find that a gift my sister had purchased for me arrived. There is an eight peice resin Nativity set in my cubicle, if anyone in the vicinity wants to see it.
Saw Michael Chabon again last night. I'd pay huge money for recordings of him reading his books. Hell, I'd pay huge money for recordings of him reading a shopping list. I've decided that being in houses of worship really comfort me. Also, he kind of remembered me and made my knees turn to mush.
Phrases jotted in my (previously signed) Moleskine:
-I haven't lost anything that isn't lost by everyone.
-Another doomed autumn trying to atone.
-I am an American, of course, what else could I be?
-Heartbreakingly impossible
-Imagine the presence of mind needed when you have slashed your femoral artery with a thrasher to take out your phrasebook...
-A lonely business, transgressing...
-Rapturous apprehension (I may need a shrinkydink of that)
-"consensus reality"