Indian Summer?

It's fucking hot! I mean, for November. 85 degrees? That's a little ridiculous. Of course, I kind of love it. Drinking iced-coffees, drifting off to sleep reading a novel, cleaning the kitchen, acting the real southern belle, à la liz taylor. I love how liz taylor and the other one, (scarlet o'hara), are the penultimate southern women. They're not even American! oh, how funny. if you think that's funny, i got more where that came from (my head).
Okay, I have to get into *serious* mode. I'll be sitting in on a conference on "Saving Time: Memory and Memorialization". This is no joke. This is serious, high-minded thinking. No one will stand for my funny reflections on the British take-over of the American deep South.
Oh, by the way. My $12 hour at the spa a couple of weeks ago was really nice. I realized I'm really bad at relaxing, thinking of "nothing." I'd sit in the sauna, reading the New Yorker, and think, "should I really be reading? shouldn't i be not doing anything? thinking anything?" then i'd put the magazine down and just lie there, but then I'd get all obsessed with how hot I was, you know, temperature-wise. The finest moments of the hour were lying on the bamboo slated floor and staring out the open window, which over-looked a koi pond. Cheesy, but worth twelve dollars. If you ever visit (whoever you may be) I'll take you there.

Night Tennis

October pretty much sucked. And, since I gave my presentation on Tuesday, November has been smooth sailing. I hate, HATE speaking in front of lots of people. I don't know if it's because I fear they'll think I'm stupid, or if because they'll think I'm acting all smart. I think it's the former. Anyway, I agreed to give half a lecture on *Beloved* after Thanksgiving. Maybe then November will suck too.
But since the time change, pretty-boy and I have been playing tennis under the lights. Well, we did last night at least. It kinda hurts my eyes. But I'm a slave for tennis. (you'd think I'd play better.)

Silence is Golden

I find that neglecting to update this site for weeks at a time simply makes me more mysterious. What is that girl doing these days? What's she thinking about? Where is she? I'll never say. Thus, you poor forsaken readers are left only with your imaginations, which are probably much more lively than my day-to-day existence.
Truth be told, I'm lazy. But if my laziness inspires distant musings, then it was all worth it.
But I suspect that I'll have more interesting things to say later on today, since I made myself an appointment for 50 minutes at a spa here in town. For only $12! I need a schvitz. More soon . . .