02180
i think i work better under pressure. i have a french paper on Colette due on tuesday, and i'd finished everything else due on monday and tuesday before the weekend. as a result, i've taken a very leisurely approach to this paper, and progress is slow. im sure if i had something else pressing, i might be mostly done by now. but as we can see by my livejournal update, thats not happening. i dislike drawing things like this out, but oh well.
im playing shannon's russian techno very loudly through my headphones as to drown out most of the rest of the world. russian and french? seems counterintuitive, i realize. im trying to write about colettes use of metaphors and description to convey a certain subtlety. this subtlety then reinforces her themes of hidden emotions and motives in the interactions of couples. romantic couples. supressed thoughts. a silent infidelity. and how feminism somehow fits into this entire scheme. ooh francais...
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i'm infinitely anxious to arrive home on tuesday afternoon.
to reconvene in charlie's basement, home of pool table talks, true creative genius, surprise parties, the dill-show, non-cable television, "you never heard me tell you this, but.." conversations, poptarts, an excellent wintertime fire, laughing fits and the my most comfortable memories. its the starting point, and the ending point. where we make plans. where we dont bother to make plans and just sit around being ridiculous. his dead end street always struggling to accomodate the abundance of cars. turning around is always a bitch.
maybe even to return to singing sands, our summertime oasis, in the freezing cold. where we hit 110. was it 110? where i swear we saw an unidentified flying object. where my feet cried with pain from running on the sharp rocks at night. where jen clinton liked to tease the waves. and where we'd sit in the sand with pants on in a circle and chat. i wonder if this break will leave the time or summmon the motivation to make this trip.
if not, prehaps lago will suffice. please? im sure our rope swings have been destroyed entirely by now and the forest floor is covered in a dull brown carpet. and we'll sit and talk about the adventures we can have once the surface freezes.
i miss susie's laugh that turns into a snort, that makes us laugh all the harder. i miss where our abnormalities are well and fine. we can say stupid shit like "yaaa-ohh-ayy" and "liiiiife" and people will know what we actually mean. and we can debate who is truly home depot's best seller.
i could go on for hours. but in the essence of time, i will leave it here, waiting for tuesday night.
i like reminiscing. i'd hate to forget all of this.
im playing shannon's russian techno very loudly through my headphones as to drown out most of the rest of the world. russian and french? seems counterintuitive, i realize. im trying to write about colettes use of metaphors and description to convey a certain subtlety. this subtlety then reinforces her themes of hidden emotions and motives in the interactions of couples. romantic couples. supressed thoughts. a silent infidelity. and how feminism somehow fits into this entire scheme. ooh francais...
- - - - -
i'm infinitely anxious to arrive home on tuesday afternoon.
to reconvene in charlie's basement, home of pool table talks, true creative genius, surprise parties, the dill-show, non-cable television, "you never heard me tell you this, but.." conversations, poptarts, an excellent wintertime fire, laughing fits and the my most comfortable memories. its the starting point, and the ending point. where we make plans. where we dont bother to make plans and just sit around being ridiculous. his dead end street always struggling to accomodate the abundance of cars. turning around is always a bitch.
maybe even to return to singing sands, our summertime oasis, in the freezing cold. where we hit 110. was it 110? where i swear we saw an unidentified flying object. where my feet cried with pain from running on the sharp rocks at night. where jen clinton liked to tease the waves. and where we'd sit in the sand with pants on in a circle and chat. i wonder if this break will leave the time or summmon the motivation to make this trip.
if not, prehaps lago will suffice. please? im sure our rope swings have been destroyed entirely by now and the forest floor is covered in a dull brown carpet. and we'll sit and talk about the adventures we can have once the surface freezes.
i miss susie's laugh that turns into a snort, that makes us laugh all the harder. i miss where our abnormalities are well and fine. we can say stupid shit like "yaaa-ohh-ayy" and "liiiiife" and people will know what we actually mean. and we can debate who is truly home depot's best seller.
i could go on for hours. but in the essence of time, i will leave it here, waiting for tuesday night.
i like reminiscing. i'd hate to forget all of this.