Yes.
Last night's show was fantastic. Oh good lord.
And now it's over.
It feels like the world was movingmovingmoving with no-stops-no-breaks-just-keep-on-going, and delectable fever-bright epiphanies of holy fuck ain't this magical and all the lies we used to propel us forward (we'll never feel this way again) just bled together and trickled down our trembly limbs until we'd exsanguinated ourselves in the name of the cause. We conserved our breath because we had to; our bodies implemented compensatory survival mechanisms to bring us back to homeostasis; we were all sharp angles and live wires and sine wave sensations, with a passion at odds with exhaustion and no end to the battle in sight.
We were Something, and now we're back to normal. It's all just suddenly sort of stopped, reversed, and gone back to how it was before: reading, coursework, exams, papers, useless information, pseudo-profundity, midnight coffee, 10ks, kissing, and requisite existentialism.
I talked to Tait about my paper yesterday, and tried to explain, really poorly, why it was the least practical/persuasive thing he'd probably get in. Not because I'm a poor writer, necessarily, so much as I can't quite write how he wants us to. My two modes are scientific (e.g. neuroscience) and creative (e.g. poetry). I don't do well with philosophy, and as such my outline was terrible, and the arguments within it even worse.
As I relayed all this, he observed me clinically for a bit and then essentially said that what I had currently was just going to flop and that I'd be better off starting over. So, now I've made a new outline and am hopefully on the way to something better than my first go.
I need new glasses.
I have a lime green cyclopse monster mug from Starbucks, currently containing Twining's Cranberry tea with a bit of lemon and honey. Someone is baking something nearby; I just can't tell what it is. I'd put my money on a cake.
Sometimes it's nice to be near you.
And now it's over.
It feels like the world was movingmovingmoving with no-stops-no-breaks-just-keep-on-going, and delectable fever-bright epiphanies of holy fuck ain't this magical and all the lies we used to propel us forward (we'll never feel this way again) just bled together and trickled down our trembly limbs until we'd exsanguinated ourselves in the name of the cause. We conserved our breath because we had to; our bodies implemented compensatory survival mechanisms to bring us back to homeostasis; we were all sharp angles and live wires and sine wave sensations, with a passion at odds with exhaustion and no end to the battle in sight.
We were Something, and now we're back to normal. It's all just suddenly sort of stopped, reversed, and gone back to how it was before: reading, coursework, exams, papers, useless information, pseudo-profundity, midnight coffee, 10ks, kissing, and requisite existentialism.
I talked to Tait about my paper yesterday, and tried to explain, really poorly, why it was the least practical/persuasive thing he'd probably get in. Not because I'm a poor writer, necessarily, so much as I can't quite write how he wants us to. My two modes are scientific (e.g. neuroscience) and creative (e.g. poetry). I don't do well with philosophy, and as such my outline was terrible, and the arguments within it even worse.
As I relayed all this, he observed me clinically for a bit and then essentially said that what I had currently was just going to flop and that I'd be better off starting over. So, now I've made a new outline and am hopefully on the way to something better than my first go.
I need new glasses.
I have a lime green cyclopse monster mug from Starbucks, currently containing Twining's Cranberry tea with a bit of lemon and honey. Someone is baking something nearby; I just can't tell what it is. I'd put my money on a cake.
Sometimes it's nice to be near you.