paint it, black
I admit it--I'm supposed to be writing a paper, but I'm sitting here drinking and waiting for the roommates to come back. Not hardcore drinking, though, please scrap that thought from your pretty little head. Just a bit of amaretto on the rocks--you know, after some baileys on the rocks. And Rolling Stones loudly on the radio.
I should be writing this paper. I really should. I've done a page of it so far--it's only a reflexion. It's about that Borges class I took this semester. Honestly, I've never had a class find its way into my thoughts as frequently as this one has. I'll be thinking about it for years, that's the plain truth. Something about Borges makes me wish I were about fifty years older and could have meet him at some Argentine cafe, only to speak to him for hours.
Otherwise, switching tunes, the men working on the dumpster at the apartments behind our house is still creeping me out. Hearing the banging on the metal makes me think someone is knocking on our screen door. After getting up once, I will never be fooled by that again.
They'll be back soon, then we'll go to Becki's house (probably drink) then go to Necto's. Only to dance until they close the club. And life will be good. It's always good like that.
I began this entry with the intentions of being a big sappy. Two things:
1. I never thought I'd be so glad to live in this house. I am. There's nothing like living with the (majority of) best people you've ever known. Staying up late and talking, drinking and watching Sex and the City when I shouldn't have been--feeling dead every morning has never been so worth it. Situations like that are when my whole you're not promised tomorrow bullshit gets me in trouble.
I'd do it all over again if I could.
2. This mass exodus of everyone. Eric's emails and posts lately have me thinking about it a lot more than I had been in a while. It makes me sad--because everyone is going to scatter to the far reaches of the Earth like some sort of debris from a massive explosion. It's sad because I've never had a better time in my life. Every single day gets better--and I honestly never know what's going to happen. We (I) have done so many (stupid) things in the past year and a half, and it's all been worth it. I'll never regret a second of it. Even breaking my face that one time was something I don't necessarily regret. Yeah, it would have been cool if it hadn't happened, but good things came out of that one also.
So, here's to you. Cheers and one final drink. Must finish this paper.
In the mean time, I hope that you'll find yourself a copy of Borges and read until you can't anymore.
I should be writing this paper. I really should. I've done a page of it so far--it's only a reflexion. It's about that Borges class I took this semester. Honestly, I've never had a class find its way into my thoughts as frequently as this one has. I'll be thinking about it for years, that's the plain truth. Something about Borges makes me wish I were about fifty years older and could have meet him at some Argentine cafe, only to speak to him for hours.
Otherwise, switching tunes, the men working on the dumpster at the apartments behind our house is still creeping me out. Hearing the banging on the metal makes me think someone is knocking on our screen door. After getting up once, I will never be fooled by that again.
They'll be back soon, then we'll go to Becki's house (probably drink) then go to Necto's. Only to dance until they close the club. And life will be good. It's always good like that.
I began this entry with the intentions of being a big sappy. Two things:
1. I never thought I'd be so glad to live in this house. I am. There's nothing like living with the (majority of) best people you've ever known. Staying up late and talking, drinking and watching Sex and the City when I shouldn't have been--feeling dead every morning has never been so worth it. Situations like that are when my whole you're not promised tomorrow bullshit gets me in trouble.
I'd do it all over again if I could.
2. This mass exodus of everyone. Eric's emails and posts lately have me thinking about it a lot more than I had been in a while. It makes me sad--because everyone is going to scatter to the far reaches of the Earth like some sort of debris from a massive explosion. It's sad because I've never had a better time in my life. Every single day gets better--and I honestly never know what's going to happen. We (I) have done so many (stupid) things in the past year and a half, and it's all been worth it. I'll never regret a second of it. Even breaking my face that one time was something I don't necessarily regret. Yeah, it would have been cool if it hadn't happened, but good things came out of that one also.
So, here's to you. Cheers and one final drink. Must finish this paper.
In the mean time, I hope that you'll find yourself a copy of Borges and read until you can't anymore.
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