Pissing in the Wind
Compilations are being made and so I've put myself in crazy music mode on top of other responsibilities.
The library here was discovered by me today and I think it's far more condusive to productive reading-time than my home is.
This morning I awoke on my sofa to the sounds of Stevie Wonder proclaiming his faith in God answering his prayers so that falling in love the next time will last for ever...
...so I hit snooze on the cd player and flicked on the coffee maker, then pressed start on the microwave...
...when Stevie resumed his testimony there was coffee in the carafe and bacon in the 'crowave.
My knee really hurts, and never have I had pain on the right side. Always the left (due to the once-twisted vertebrae in my lower back). I feel bones grinding.
Tonight I'll sleep in my bed, but I'm still going to repeat the bacon thing. Something about the smell helps me get out of bed, y'know.
But I didn't eat all the bacon this morning. Just two strips.
My classes ran me until eight thirty, so at nine when I rolled up on my pad I nuked a tater and put butter, cheese, and the other two slices of bacon on it.
After this glass of shiraz I'm going to bed, and tomorrow I'll summon my higher consciousness to dominate the a.m. in hopes of beating down this low-brow mopey-ness I'm exhibiting lately.
In addition to my burdensome reading assignments I've maintained my pleasure readings (to keep my brain from turning to cement) while waiting for busses and walking around campus or eating...
...so I chose Catcher in the Rye because I haven't read it in about three years and though I remember not liking it, I can't remember why, and that makes me sound silly when I dog it.
Then I'm going to go straight into Franny and Zooey, which I love, so then I'll be able to properly compare the two.
I always say, "I like Franny... better than Catcher..." but I'm not sure if I'm comparing them because they're similar or simply because they have the same author.
I need more adherent adhesives for my pictures because Maggie's photo fell and broke it's glass, and then Carrie Beth's fell. They're too important to be hitting the floor.
So, in my philosophy class tonight I was labeled as a "substance dualist" because I believe in the super-natural. Then they pointed and stared.
During a break the guy behind me let me know that he too was a dualist, and though I appreciated his private support I wondered where the hell were his balls when the professor was asking if anyone believed in that which cannot be explained purely by logic.
I got my new Rolling Stone out of my mailbox when I came home tonight, so tomorrow expect me to mention their ordering of "The 100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time" because I'm already going to sleep pissed that John Foggerty made the top 50.
I love CCR but the boy couldn't play.
