lundi, août 29, 2005

stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead

what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this

I'm feeling gross...bleeding...watching t.v....girl 6...now something set at a girls boarding school...It's hot...I'm ready for fall. Saw a great sun set from a roof in Brooklyn. thinking...tap tap tap...thinking about what to do next.

mercredi, août 10, 2005

july july july

what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this what is this
two twenty-eight. seven twenty-nine two-thousand five.still no wireless connection. Sigh. Time to practice typing without looking.Granted, something I should have learned long ago. I've been a non-typist for the last thirty some odd years. I figured I'd never have to be anybody's secretary that way. Now being a secretary doesn't seem as bad to me. Now it seems like a noble profession. Noble to be so helpful without desiringglory or credit. Sadly, secretarial work often takes place under horribllyinhumaine lighting.
sigh;;hmmm...what should I type about?
Something reflective I suppose...unexamined life such as it is.
Technology and me: &arrgh.
work: I dig the routine...biking, picking up books, judging them by their covers,putting them where they go...alphabetically, checking in with people, going to lunch,setting aside books to buy, trying to stay out of harm's way, trying to stay amusedand appear productive, riding home with my new derailer...my new head light...my new books:
hero with a thousand facesanias ninquanity theory of insanityslow learnercrime and punishment
the weather: finally cooler. Blissfully cool. very fine. no longer horribly, miserabllyhot and humid.
joints: slighty less achy(sp?) since I started taking the glucosamine.
finances: ok...barring unforseen disasters.
roomates: amusing to tolerable...disregarding smelly cat-box and the feeling that no one is cleaning anything.
future: unknown with a hint of bleakness. I am looking forward to my birthday and seeing the new show at ps1.I keep intending to compose letters to former professors asking for letters of reference for graduate schoolbut I keep putting it off since I haven't decided which program to which to apply.(what awkward phrasing)MFA? MUP? MARCH? MAH?
grip on reality: (desperately?) (deliberately?) depressingly tight.
and the great indicatior of well being:
laundry: 80% clean