civil unrest
So I've been writing a story which takes place in presentday and 3,000 years ago, Massachusetts. It's all about dreadlocks and mosquitoes and stuff. It's Spring and so it's mandatory that classes be held outside lounging about the ugly campus, wearing sunglasses, and when not on the ugly campus to smoke on the balcony and write stories about dreadlocks and mosquitoes and poems about unrequited love and maybe listen to one am radio or i don't know..yes, i do, cap n' jazz. Question: What do you listen to at the beginning of Spring?
The other great thing about it being springtime is that the clocks have been set forward (europe is slow on that by a few weeks) so now it's light until 9pm and nighttime is full of possibilities and wonder and luminescence and laughter and walking places. It doesn't get any better than that, except in the summer, when there's even MORE possibilities and wonder and crazy, curious luminescence and laughter and walking places. Holy shit! Summer is Awwwwesome!
This is the 3rd to last week, but the smell of the café in the lettres building baking stuff in the morning still strikes the fear of god deep in the chambers of my godfearing soul because I smelled it my first day here. I also still very often go to type my UMF password into the university computers here and think: wait. It's this nonsense word they gave me four years ago. It sounds like monsoon but nonsensed. You think I'm gonna tell you it? No way, josé!
Speaking of josé, zac's dad (from arkansas) has been here this week and last night after dinner over zac's he told me that I'm from "another country"--now I know they hate yankees but this was with British Matt standing next to me and I'm pretty sure he was saying that Matt was less from another country than I was. I sometimes wonder what life would be like if I'd grown up in the south. Would I think of Northerners as foreigners? Would I like chitlins?
The real question is: in what bizarro universe can it possibly be almost april? Is this some kind of joke?
The other real question is: why, oh why, ooohhh why must i go teach a grammar class? oh well, at least i'm gonna go to some free museums tonight with some ladies.
sionara
The other great thing about it being springtime is that the clocks have been set forward (europe is slow on that by a few weeks) so now it's light until 9pm and nighttime is full of possibilities and wonder and luminescence and laughter and walking places. It doesn't get any better than that, except in the summer, when there's even MORE possibilities and wonder and crazy, curious luminescence and laughter and walking places. Holy shit! Summer is Awwwwesome!
This is the 3rd to last week, but the smell of the café in the lettres building baking stuff in the morning still strikes the fear of god deep in the chambers of my godfearing soul because I smelled it my first day here. I also still very often go to type my UMF password into the university computers here and think: wait. It's this nonsense word they gave me four years ago. It sounds like monsoon but nonsensed. You think I'm gonna tell you it? No way, josé!
Speaking of josé, zac's dad (from arkansas) has been here this week and last night after dinner over zac's he told me that I'm from "another country"--now I know they hate yankees but this was with British Matt standing next to me and I'm pretty sure he was saying that Matt was less from another country than I was. I sometimes wonder what life would be like if I'd grown up in the south. Would I think of Northerners as foreigners? Would I like chitlins?
The real question is: in what bizarro universe can it possibly be almost april? Is this some kind of joke?
The other real question is: why, oh why, ooohhh why must i go teach a grammar class? oh well, at least i'm gonna go to some free museums tonight with some ladies.
sionara