Notes from the Underground

I think my neighborhood is going through a commercial gentrification process. It makes me fearful for the tiny shops which I love like first cousins. Semester is finally over, and all the preceding drama wrapped within it (I hope) is running off as well. I didn't realize how exhausted I was, until I took a moment to sit back and think. I'm nervous for next semester a nearly doubled course load. Exhausts me even to think about it Blech. Oh well. One glorious month of underwear dancing, book reading, baking, and movie watching! REVIVAL!

Went to the library today here is my lofty winter break reading list:

• Sherwood Anderson: Winesburg Ohio
• James Joyce: Ulysses (Connecticut, I will finally be able to join in on the conversations!)
• F. Scott Fitzgerald: On Writing
• Jeneatte Winterson: The Passion (again! because, it's short and I adore it)
• Richard Lantham: Revising Prose (because I must)
• Fyodor Dostoevsky: The Idiot
• Richard Brautigan: Trout Fishing in America, In Watermelon Sugar, and The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster (favorite book of time, everytime I read it I discover a new feeling it gives me, thank you Wiseone!)
• Alison Stine: Lot of My Sister (Finally)

Ex-lover is up to his old tricks. Not upset these days, how bizaare. I think I'm finally immune. What do I do with that? I hope it doesn't mean I have to start taking all this stuff seriously. Not forgetful, just immune. I would be so much less if i forgot. A showcase of how much someone could not care about another. Oh well. I still think the kid's got spunk. Too bad it's chock full of I'm too good for you and you and you too. What a waste.

Last night was perfect for so many reasons. Girls night (how surprising) with the future feminists of the world. Intellectual, strong, beautiful, and pretty fucking hilarious.
My night ended with warm blankets and an open window.
Constantly surprised by the heartless Anarchist. Probably not so heartless. Tender looks, near-sober holds, and magnolias. Deep tangled sleep leaves me warm and dreamy. A delightful crick in my neck. BUT. Self-preservation is of utmost importance. Another reason I'm glad for a month long break. Nightshade is a far safer perennial.

After I went to the library I played soccer with Hippy it was glorious, this weather is the kicks. Har har! We've patched our problems and may be able to salvage a beautiful relationship. Inside girl makes best with Outside boy. Two worlds are brought together!
By the way, I totally schooled him in futbol!

Tomorrow holiday officially starts. My posts will become more frequent and possibly less interesting. Joy. Eat Sleep Write Read and so on ta da, tra la! I intend to get it, while the gettins good.

"The history of my life is the history of the struggle between an overwhelming urge to write and a combination of circumstances bent on keeping me from it."

F. Scott Fitzgerald