All I Ever Needed Help With Was You

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

I've lost my T.S.E. and its making me lonely. Rarely do I misplace books important as he is. As it is Saturday I am again writing, though the moment isn't very inspirational. Overworked would be the word I think, and under-eye dark-worry (can you tell I've been reading Anglosaxon? The kennings just keep coming....and alliteration, too, apparently).
Things I'm in love with:
food. pretty much any kind, because there is very little time, I've discovered, to fit it in between running five blocks to class (hefting a hundred-pound bag in the process), running five blocks back again, seven blocks sideways to honors (which involves demonstrating your smarts, preferably at highly audible tones for the benefit of your presumably deprived classmates), and then shimmying into business attire for evenings of semi-exhaustion as a fairy-tale (according to the oregonian - something I would have to contest. if you saw the amount of work involved you would agree with me) librarian.

Brits. They are quite lovely and well educated. And who else, when speaking of an author, would murmur confidingly to you over a dusty book, "mad as toast!"

Tender Loving Empire - discovered in the same week by myself, walking by it in downtown ptown, and also by a friend online. Oh Portland. Thank you for a having a real live etsy shop.

New Pornographers. I know its old news to all you young indies, and yes Sufjan Stevens has a new album out, but how can anyone tire of listening to this? It gets me through my many many hours of life right now.

It is way too late for me to be typing on here and not reading Montaigne or Huizinga or unknown Anglosaxon poets, so farewell my lovelies until next time.

No comments: