so, yeah, hi.
it was an icky day today. i spent most of it trapped in a funk, which means i sat on the futon in my pajamas, eating candy corn pumpkins and watching tv. i have these days from time to time, in which i know i’ll be in a much better mood if i get up and get dressed and get things done, but i just can’t bring myself to do anything. it’s as if the gravity around my futon is extra strong sometimes. so now i just feel icky, and even ickier now, since i just realized that since i didn’t watch any britlit today, i’ll have to watch three hours tomorrow.
incidentally, i am dressed now.
i saw saving grace with my mom earlier today (i was dressed then, too). a strange film to see with one’s mom, since it’s about a middle-aged woman growing weed in her greenhouse. but it was pretty good until the ending, which was too far-fetched to be believed. i’ve decided that the norman greenbaum song “spirit in the sky” should be hereafter barred from all movies and movie trailers. i mean, think about all the movies you’ve heard that in. it’s a lot, huh? yeah.
well, i’m off to cecil’s. see ya.
okay, i’ve decided that what i’m going to do is pretend that the you that was here before you left, and the you that came back after you left, are two different people. that way i can deal with the you that came back without ruining the lovely memories of the you that left and never came back. does that make sense? is that okay? good. now we can move on from here.
okay, i’ll further explain the letter thing. today the weather was really nice, so i spent three hours outside in the sun between classes. it would have been a perfect time to write a letter to someone, had i an appropriate letter-writing person in mind. ditto this evening, when i was sitting at a table at the coffeehouse drinking wine. granted, another one of these beautiful letter-writing opportunities might not happen again, but if it does, i now have someone to write to. yay.
by the way, the front of my hair is purple.
hey, i have a question (for a change, heh). i want to write someone a letter, a letter in green pen with little pictures and doodles and stick figures all over it. is there someone out there i can write a letter to? do any of you want a letter?
it’s still nice and cold and crispy out, although i think the air’s probably going to warm and wilt pretty soon, like lettuce left out on the counter. it always does.
i just finished writing my first-ever paper this semester, for american lit. it’s here if you want to read it, although you probably don’t, since it’s geared towards my professor rather than towards a general audience. also, it’s boring. so there.
in honor of the paper-writing theme, i put up a new mp3. it’s my favorite u2 song, “stay (faraway, so close!),” which i had on repeat while i wrote a paper in ryan’s dorm room once. but anyway, it’s nice for a lot of reasons, and related to this movie, which i never saw. you should listen to the song anyway, though, even if you never saw the movie either.
what’s really nice is when you’re sitting at the coffeehouse writing a paper, and all the windows are open, and the crispy cold air is blowing in, and pink floyd’s “run like hell” comes on the cafe stereo. “run like hell” doesn’t really fit with the mood, but it’s a good song, so you go along with it.
mostly i’m just happy about the crispy cold air.
i had a dream the other night that joseph fiennes was a force of evil. he threw a glass orb at my head, making a permanent indention in my skull. my friend amanda still insisted on going out with him, and she spent most of their date hunched over and crying, which i knew would happen, because, you know, he was evil. then later joseph fiennes was a black-and-white cartoon, and he was in vanessa redgrave’s stairwell, waiting for her to come around the corner so he could kill her. as he waited, he painted his face with colors, so that he would be a color cartoon. when he painted each part of his face, he’d mutter, in french, the name of the color he was using. it was a horrible growling sort of voice too, because, you know, he was evil. he painted his eyes this really light, scary blue, and then i woke up. perhaps by now he’s killed vanessa redgrave, because, you know.
hey, do you think i should set up some sort of fucked-up-dream website? there’d be no analysis or anything, just people’s random surreal dreams. it could be fun, i don’t know. do you?
