(no subject)
The mystery has been solved. That is, the mystery of what has been missing. A temporary answer is always better than none at all.
My computer is back, but the poignant double-edged blade now reminds me that I have no further reason to go and lean on the railing of the deck outside the library, dangling my body out into a crisp evening, smoking cigarettes and letting a lack of light persuade me that the campus pond is pretty. I am not driving to campus just to smoke and eye pretty hipster boys with gorgeous hipster girlfriends and a debacle of a body of water.
I am so enigmatic that you don't even know I am an enigma! It is my own special secret.
This thesis of mine, it will get edited. As much as I loathe the prospect of reopening a period of my life so carefully, tenderly closed, I will do it. One night in a fit of coffee and gravy cheese fries, I'm sure. This is all because I want so badly to start on my new projects. I hate having project ideas, but when they arrive, so I depart with them. With a few notable exceptions, but they were nodes, little temporal anomalies floating around, vortexes of evil. Let's not talk about them. I'm done with nodes, anyways.
We're reading lectures by Adonis, an Arab poet, for my lit crit class, and I am enchanted. There's a sensual satisfaction to falling for something, or even someone, that gives the whole world such a delicious flavor and glow. I am awash in these sensations. Thank you Adonis, among others. I collect reasons to smile secretively, furtively, but with a soft giddiness.
My paper, "Ben Franklin: Plain-clothes Superhero, Cult Classic" received an A. Such a pleasant surprise, plus the dry little witticisms of my professor inserted into margins.
I picked a daffodil on campus between classes and pinned it into my hair.
My computer is back, but the poignant double-edged blade now reminds me that I have no further reason to go and lean on the railing of the deck outside the library, dangling my body out into a crisp evening, smoking cigarettes and letting a lack of light persuade me that the campus pond is pretty. I am not driving to campus just to smoke and eye pretty hipster boys with gorgeous hipster girlfriends and a debacle of a body of water.
I am so enigmatic that you don't even know I am an enigma! It is my own special secret.
This thesis of mine, it will get edited. As much as I loathe the prospect of reopening a period of my life so carefully, tenderly closed, I will do it. One night in a fit of coffee and gravy cheese fries, I'm sure. This is all because I want so badly to start on my new projects. I hate having project ideas, but when they arrive, so I depart with them. With a few notable exceptions, but they were nodes, little temporal anomalies floating around, vortexes of evil. Let's not talk about them. I'm done with nodes, anyways.
We're reading lectures by Adonis, an Arab poet, for my lit crit class, and I am enchanted. There's a sensual satisfaction to falling for something, or even someone, that gives the whole world such a delicious flavor and glow. I am awash in these sensations. Thank you Adonis, among others. I collect reasons to smile secretively, furtively, but with a soft giddiness.
My paper, "Ben Franklin: Plain-clothes Superhero, Cult Classic" received an A. Such a pleasant surprise, plus the dry little witticisms of my professor inserted into margins.
I picked a daffodil on campus between classes and pinned it into my hair.