This weekend was very productive for me. I took my violin bow to Elmhurst to get it rehaired. I got a haircut. I returned a long-overdue library book (The Ground Beneath Her Feet by Salman Rushdie, which is jaw-droppingly good). I wrote a highly inflammatory Northwestern essay and half of a UChicago essay. I constructed an animal cell membrane out
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And yeah, it does, especially since last winter was perfect. Absolutely perfect. From Halloween onward is going to be very hard thanks to a certain person.
And as far as techie bands go, probably something American flag-ish, assuming I don't quit in a fiery rage sometime soon. Mayo moment du jour: He motioned me over towards him during rehearsal today, and muttered, "Do I smell like smoke?" Ohhh man. My life, I tell you.
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