Bloglet, the gentleman's mock turtle soup --
Moss made it sweeter than myrrh ash and dhoup


Bleh. That didn't work very well, did it? So much for willpower.

Spot of good news, though -- my roommate said he'd be happy if I stuck around for another year, which was awfully nice of him, considering I see the guy maybe twice a week for five minutes at a time. I'm punctual with the rent, buy communal groceries and supplies, don't make too much mess or noise, and even clean the place when it gets dire, but I'm afraid I don't contribute much to the social life of the household. Not that they aren't lovely fascinating people; I dig 'em both something crazy. But when I'm awake, they're at work, and when they're at home, I'm asleep, and everytime they have a concert that I really really want to go to, I always seem to be previously engaged. Rar.

Anyway, I'm glad that he doesn't seem to have taken it personally, and that he doesn't mind living with a spectral presence. I guess I was nervous just because so many of the other people whose places I looked at last summer complained that their former roomies' worst faults were "not being around much" or "not hanging out with us enough". But it was my luck to land a pair of busy-as-hell, independent, forgiving, introverted types. So phew. I don't want to leave; the neighborhood is groovy, it's a half hour to K.'s place and work and less than an hour to Hunter, and, as I said, the company is tops. Plus it's Manhattan, and I'm paying about the same for a beautiful (if icky-colored) bedroom with four big windows as anything else I looked at, including grotty partitioned living rooms in Brooklyn. I just wish I had a day job, so I could blend in with the whole music-making milieu a little easier. Soon, I hope. We'll see. _
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05:10:54 AM, Sunday 27 March 2005

The English Subjunctive is dead! Long live the English Subjunctive! _
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03:46:24 AM, Sunday 27 March 2005

Ok, I'm pressing the wireless button now. I'll turn it back on for a little while after the paper's typed up. Oy, this is agony. Adieu, adieu. Remember meeeeeeee... _
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02:11:45 AM, Sunday 27 March 2005

The Fatal Week. Deadly dull, but I need it, so forgive me.

Saturday: Finish typing up paper, create structural outline of argument, shuffle paragraphs around to approximate outline, supplementing gaps with bracketed summaries, reread play.

Sunday: Cut out excess, fill in bracketed bits, begin polishing sentences.

Monday: Continue polishing sentences, paying particular attention to introduction and conclusion.

Tuesday: Finish up style corrections, proofread, do citations and bibliography. Give to K. to read.

Wednesday: Write statement of purpose, fill out application, read Dubliners, revise paper into final version. If recommendation hasn't arrived from Fe tutor, begin to panic.

Thursday: Get recommendation letter from Hunter professor, print out paper and statement of purpose, make copy of St. John's chart, write check, put everything in neat little envelope. If recommendation hasn't arrived from Fe tutor, commit Hara Kiri.

Friday: Turn in application. If recommendation arrives from Fe tutor in mail, hightail it back to school and turn it in separately. If not, kick things. Otherwise, rejoice. Maybe go to All Night Odyssey Marathon. Maybe not. Rejoice a little more for good measure. Then wait. _
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02:05:12 AM, Sunday 27 March 2005

Holy damn, yo. How awesome is Songs to Wear Pants To? _
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07:20:36 PM, Saturday 26 March 2005

First in a series of Classicist/Lepidopterist pickup lines:

"Baby, you put the Oryba in Corybantic." _
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