I wrote this about a week ago. Things are different, as they so often are.
Hey pervs.
Youve caught me at a weary moment. You know how some people use the phrase Ive been doing suchandsuch a task like its my job!, but usually it refers to them spending two hours half-interestedly diddling and then getting up to wander to the kitchen when they arent really hungry, realizing the satisfaction theyre looking for cant be found in the fridge, only to return back to dimly lit monitors to distract themselves with 140 character tales of what someone else is doing? Well, Im no longer one of those folks. I really do read like its my job. And it is my job. Currently on the chopping block is Infinite Jest. Most people take a good six months to get through this book. Ive got three weeks. So far its tolerable, but I wouldnt say Im eating up (Pablo is covering that base nicely).
School more isolating than I expected, though it was nave of me not to expect it. Even with my bright green walls, leafy throw pillows, and soft light, sitting and reading for seven hours, knowing that tomorrow you will have to get up and read for another straight seven hours, and tomorrow another, is lonely. Ive only known my friends here for a few weeks, and who knows if theyll still be around in a few more.
Today I missed San Diego. A wholly imperfect place, but nonetheless a place where on Monday night I could get a strong, perfect martini for five bucks. A place where theres a paint-chipped porch littered with limp jacaranda blossoms going unwatched. San Diego, you and your omnipresent planes searing past my flight path home, with the large, wall-spanning window I neglected so often to crack.
My cousin, shes there to. They had a bonfire last night.
I know it will take a while to get settled in here. I feel displaced, but I think I always feel displaced.
Hey pervs.
Youve caught me at a weary moment. You know how some people use the phrase Ive been doing suchandsuch a task like its my job!, but usually it refers to them spending two hours half-interestedly diddling and then getting up to wander to the kitchen when they arent really hungry, realizing the satisfaction theyre looking for cant be found in the fridge, only to return back to dimly lit monitors to distract themselves with 140 character tales of what someone else is doing? Well, Im no longer one of those folks. I really do read like its my job. And it is my job. Currently on the chopping block is Infinite Jest. Most people take a good six months to get through this book. Ive got three weeks. So far its tolerable, but I wouldnt say Im eating up (Pablo is covering that base nicely).
School more isolating than I expected, though it was nave of me not to expect it. Even with my bright green walls, leafy throw pillows, and soft light, sitting and reading for seven hours, knowing that tomorrow you will have to get up and read for another straight seven hours, and tomorrow another, is lonely. Ive only known my friends here for a few weeks, and who knows if theyll still be around in a few more.
Today I missed San Diego. A wholly imperfect place, but nonetheless a place where on Monday night I could get a strong, perfect martini for five bucks. A place where theres a paint-chipped porch littered with limp jacaranda blossoms going unwatched. San Diego, you and your omnipresent planes searing past my flight path home, with the large, wall-spanning window I neglected so often to crack.
My cousin, shes there to. They had a bonfire last night.
I know it will take a while to get settled in here. I feel displaced, but I think I always feel displaced.
VIEW 24 of 24 COMMENTS
devilsreject:
you should come back.
subrosa:
Sup.