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yes no yes no yes no yes
no.
sigh.
I feel torn. I mean, I'm
basically a coward. When something hurts me, something inside
or someone outside, I don't really like poking that scab with
a stick, even if it would drain the infection.
On the other hand, nothing
would make me happier than to stop feeling bad. In fact, I'm feeling
pretty bad right now, just thinking about it. Blech.
Hm. That's pretty bizarre
about the search engine, although I should've expected it. To
my knowledge, there are currently 3 Geocities sites with partial
diaries on them...which one did you come across? The current?
Darcy - do you remember
Darcy? He was on the Lit for the last couple years - he once found
my page during a search for Robertson Davies. He knew it was somebody
he knew, he could recognize Lady Godiva & Wilson & Fungtoberfest,
he just couldn't figure out who the writer was.
Yeah. I'm just like the
Shadow. I cloud men's minds.
This is wide of the point,
however.
I've been dreaming a lot
lately, about Lady Godiva and Ophelia telling me what happened.
Every dream, a different answer. In one, Lady Godiva told me that
I was coming on to her too much, and she got freaked out. Yeah,
right. It's kind of like when you have a big problem, and you
try to dream of a happier mental plane. When I worry about money,
i tend to dream about having a job. And so forth. I'd enjoy closure,
I can't say that I wouldn't. I'm just afraid of everything hurting
more. Like when you swab out scraped knees with hydrogen peroxide,
hurts like a bastard.
Sorry about all the medical
similes. I'm working in household chemicals now, and you'd think
that all my metaphors would deal with tile grout. Clouding men's
minds. Yeah.
As to your current pain,
all I have to offer you are the words of your own friend Dave:
it always gets done. It's one of those phrases that lacks the
polish of the prophet, but works nonetheless. If it makes you
feel any better, my last essay was a week late. It was on romanticism.
I thought I'd have to read the introduction to lyrical ballads
again (yuck!) but I managed to stick to Blake & Byron. My point
is that as of the essay due date, I hadn't opened a single book.
I'd barely picked my topic. Yet a week later, there was an essay
sitting in front of my Welsh T.A. (he's Welsh, not the course.
And I have a bit of a crush on him, although I can't figure out
why...one of those hollow-chested academics with bad teeth and
an endless collection of sweaters. But he has a British accent
and he knows a lot about medieval history and he's smarter than
me and I have a bit of a crush on him. Dumb.)
"you're overtasked,
good simon lee."
- wordsworth, but I always hear a massachusetts accent
Will you be at Dirk's
birthday barbecue on Sunday? As far as I know, it's an open invitation
bring yer own edibles sort of affair. Lady Godiva has pledged
to Dirk that she & Ophelia will attend in bondage gear. Could
be amusing. Then again, it may be boring, but I'd like it if you
could come out for a little while. I gave up drinking for lent,
and I need the distraction of your company.
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