June 27, 1999.

If I may be allowed a touch of melodrama for a moment, I feel like my life is an exercise in failed trust.

I trust the Irish down the hall to be reasonable and they bully me and libel me throughout residence (the story going around is that I complained at 4:30 when they were being utterly quiet).

I should've trusted myself more and them less.

Guy has tried to persuade me of the justice of their case. He's right in that they have very little idea how loud they're being. But that doesn't make me any more sympathetic to bullying. In my harsher moments, I'm convinced that Guy has no idea of what's right & wrong in the case: he just wants to fuck a piece of Irish ass. But those harpy moments soon pass, which is for the general good of the world I think.

But last night was wonderful. I was experiencing one of those moment of antinomy where my academic needs were battling with my restlessness and guilt at cloistering myself with 10 year olds for the next month. Chances are good that I won't see Stacy & Scott again until August, so this was a necessary visit. As well as being a kick ass time, I mean.

We played the Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? drinking game, in which you match a character's boozing through the movie. Much simpler than other drinking games, but also more hardcore: they go through bottle after bottle of booze on screen, with characters typically drinking for ten minutes at a time. Stacy & I chose Martha, Scott & Q drank with George, and an intoxicating time was had by all. The projection teevee just made it all the more surreal. I haven't been to a good booze up in a while...and by that I mean, where everyone is matching me and I'm not just heading down a lush road with nausea as a crowning moment.

We also got through a good half of the Blues Brothers, which excited notions of spontaneous street performance. But that, my chickens, is for a month in which I do not have to write exams or ride herd on children.

Watching Ackroyd & Belushi up on that enormous screen, singing along to the soundtrack with Scott & Pixie, discussing the danger of letting Aretha have backup singers in a fight...it was like a return to some of my favourite moments in highschool. And as Little Spider is the only one of that little group that I want to speak to these days, I wished she were there to share the warm glow.