Bloglet, the gentleman's mock turtle soup -- Moss made it sweeter than myrrh ash and dhoup
Bleh. That didn't work very well, did it? So much for willpower.
Spot of good news, though -- my roommate said he'd be happy if I stuck around for another year, which was awfully nice of him, considering I see the guy maybe twice a week for five minutes at a time. I'm punctual with the rent, buy communal groceries and supplies, don't make too much mess or noise, and even clean the place when it gets dire, but I'm afraid I don't contribute much to the social life of the household. Not that they aren't lovely fascinating people; I dig 'em both something crazy. But when I'm awake, they're at work, and when they're at home, I'm asleep, and everytime they have a concert that I really really want to go to, I always seem to be previously engaged. Rar.
Anyway, I'm glad that he doesn't seem to have taken it personally, and that he doesn't mind living with a spectral presence. I guess I was nervous just because so many of the other people whose places I looked at last summer complained that their former roomies' worst faults were "not being around much" or "not hanging out with us enough". But it was my luck to land a pair of busy-as-hell, independent, forgiving, introverted types. So phew. I don't want to leave; the neighborhood is groovy, it's a half hour to K.'s place and work and less than an hour to Hunter, and, as I said, the company is tops. Plus it's Manhattan, and I'm paying about the same for a beautiful (if icky-colored) bedroom with four big windows as anything else I looked at, including grotty partitioned living rooms in Brooklyn. I just wish I had a day job, so I could blend in with the whole music-making milieu a little easier. Soon, I hope. We'll see.
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05:10:54 AM,Sunday 27 March 2005
The English Subjunctive is dead! Long live the English Subjunctive!
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03:46:24 AM,Sunday 27 March 2005
Ok, I'm pressing the wireless button now. I'll turn it back on for a little while after the paper's typed up. Oy, this is agony. Adieu, adieu. Remember meeeeeeee...
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02:11:45 AM,Sunday 27 March 2005
The Fatal Week. Deadly dull, but I need it, so forgive me.
Saturday: Finish typing up paper, create structural outline of argument, shuffle paragraphs around to approximate outline, supplementing gaps with bracketed summaries, reread play.
Sunday: Cut out excess, fill in bracketed bits, begin polishing sentences.
Monday: Continue polishing sentences, paying particular attention to introduction and conclusion.
Tuesday: Finish up style corrections, proofread, do citations and bibliography. Give to K. to read.
Wednesday: Write statement of purpose, fill out application, read Dubliners, revise paper into final version. If recommendation hasn't arrived from Fe tutor, begin to panic.
Thursday: Get recommendation letter from Hunter professor, print out paper and statement of purpose, make copy of St. John's chart, write check, put everything in neat little envelope. If recommendation hasn't arrived from Fe tutor, commit Hara Kiri.
Friday: Turn in application. If recommendation arrives from Fe tutor in mail, hightail it back to school and turn it in separately. If not, kick things. Otherwise, rejoice. Maybe go to All Night Odyssey Marathon. Maybe not. Rejoice a little more for good measure. Then wait.
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02:05:12 AM,Sunday 27 March 2005
Holy damn, yo. How awesome is Songs to Wear Pants To?
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07:20:36 PM,Saturday 26 March 2005
First in a series of Classicist/Lepidopterist pickup lines:
"Baby, you put the Oryba in Corybantic."
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(1)
06:11:54 AM,Saturday 26 March 2005
I feel like an Arcimboldo painting. Which wouldn't be so bad, except I want to feel like this one, and instead I feel like this one.
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05:32:05 AM,Saturday 26 March 2005
I wish my computer didn't have an integrated wireless card. It has a little "turn off wireless" button, but that doesn't do me much good unless I put barbed wire around it or something.
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(1)
04:37:27 AM,Saturday 26 March 2005
I hate this. I suck. I hate this. I suck. I hate this. I suck.
Oh, for god's sake.
I hate this. I suck. I hate this. I suck. I hate this. I suck.
Stop whining and get to work, dork.
I hate this. I suck. I hate this. I suck. I hate this. I suck.
You'd suck less if you didn't keep lollyfutzing around on the internet hour after hour after hour.
I hate this. I suck. I hate this. I suck. I hate this. I suck.
Why do I even bother?
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04:32:57 AM,Saturday 26 March 2005
Nobody here but us suckmonkeys. And the trackback spam. I've wasted four hours tonight. The application's due in a week. I've got to revise my senior essay, write my statement of purpose, and fill out all the forms. The last one is easy. The second one is, at least, mercifully short. But this essay... argh. I've just put it off for so long. It's this horrible looming thing. It's currently 21 pages long, but the writing sample should be between 12 and 14. It's essentially a rough draft (I turned it in without even proofreading it), and it doesn't make a linear, coherent argument. I think it could, given proper tweaking, but I don't know whether it's more important to correct the structure or the style. I started rereading the play, but haven't finished it. I should probably rent the movie and watch it soon. I need at the very very least to type the whole bastard into my computer so I can print a clean copy, even if I run out of time to revise it. This shouldn't make me as nuts as it does. I wish I could stop bringing my computer to work. Then I'd just read novels all night and be happy. But I'd still despise my own guts -- because I have to figure out how to trounce temptation, not just lock it away from myself. Goddamn bastard timewasting pathetic wretched addictive useless* pablumpumping losermaking internet.
*not strictly true. all debts of gratitude freely acknowledged, etc. etc.
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(1)
04:13:28 AM,Saturday 26 March 2005
Har.
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03:43:50 AM,Saturday 26 March 2005
My brother, by the way, is currently writing his PhD thesis, and having a bloggy amusing time about it.
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03:13:10 AM,Friday 25 March 2005
I cried four times today. Once from chagrin (a misunderstanding, quickly cleared up), once from sympathy, and twice from joy. It's not even hormones. I suppose it could be sleep, but I don't think so. I'm just riding lower in my psyche these days than I'm used to, I think. It's better and richer all round than the high and dry style I've had for the last many years. It just takes some calibration.
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03:10:20 AM,Friday 25 March 2005
Eeeeh! Exciting burblings on the job front!
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(3)
12:34:06 PM,Thursday 24 March 2005
(from the Johnny Xpress Mailing List)
COLLEGII SANCTI JOHANNIS
ANNAPOLITANI APUD MARIOPOLITAS
Nos Praeses Decanus et Professores Collegii Sancti Johannis (in Marylandia) testamur (name of candidate) probum et ingenuum Adolescentem humanoribus Litteris Philosophiae et Eloquentiae apud nos feliciter incubuisee; ac postquam Curriculi sui Spatio peracto in Aula nostra, coram Curatoribus multisque aliis Civibus dignissimis ad Examen revocatus, se in omnibus hisce Studiis satis versatum abunde comprobasset, ex Curatorum Mandato in Publicis Comitiis (date) celebratis BACCALAUREI ARTIUM Gradum esse consecutum. In cujus rei Testimonium his Litteris majori Collegii Sigillo munitis Die Annoque praedicto nomina subscripsimus.
We, the President, the Dean, and the Professors of St. John's College (in Maryland), bear witness that these youths, tried and true, have happily applied themselves among us to humane letters, philosophy, and eloquence; that they have passed the period of their course in our halls; that they have been called to examination in the presence of the Trustees and many other worthy citizens; that they have abundantly proved themselves well versed in all these studies; and finally that, in accordance with the order of the Trustees, in this public session on the . . . day of . . . . . . . in the year of Our Lord . . . . . . . , they have reached the degree of Bachelor of Arts. In witness of this, we have on the aforesaid day and year subscribed our names to these letters, which have been confirmed by the great seal of the College.
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10:57:57 AM,Thursday 24 March 2005
O.o.C.Q.o.t.D: "I didn't get a boob job. That's why I got to keep my imaginary friends."
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10:40:21 AM,Wednesday 23 March 2005
The last four spam emails to my thomasaquinas account have come from Passerby P. Substantiated, Decoder H. Fragment, Expeditious E. Elwood, and Vulgarism H. Goatskin. I'm smirking in spite of myself.
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(6)
12:43:53 PM,Tuesday 22 March 2005
The mom is gone in a black Lincoln towncar. It was wonderful to have her. Now I go read Eco inertly 'til class.
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11:53:14 AM,Tuesday 22 March 2005
As a kid I called turmeric "termatic".
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02:36:14 AM,Tuesday 22 March 2005
I washed my phone. It was in my pants, and my pants went through the wash, and as I was putting them in to dry, I saw a little shiny thing and it was a wet, dead phone. But I took the battery out and, cradling it forlornly in my hands, took it to the phone shop down the street -- an hour, $25, and an industrial-strength hair dryer later, it was good as new. Lucky little bastid, me. (I know I keep saying that, but it keeps being true.)
Otherwise the weekend was unadulteratedly glorious.
K. bought me two books of postcards, one all Durer and one miscellaneous Renaissance illuminations. Also this. Rrrowrl.
But the hilarious thing was that the next day my ma took me to the Neuegalerie. After a kickass lunch of skate, cabbage, avocado and crabmeat salad, chestnut tart, elderflower soda, and bittersweet hot chocolate, I saw this photo and stopped dead in my tracks. "K. needs this," I said, and raced down to the gift shop, where I discovered that it was the same damn photographer that took my skinny-tied, harem-trousered bifurcated beauty! Tickled me no end.
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07:47:53 AM,Monday 21 March 2005
