Thank goodness. I was trying to hold my tongue last month when my summer threatened to drone on into a uneventful blob of self-pity. But then things started looking up, in a subtle way, only perceptible to one in desperate need of subtle changes.
Dave's friend in Sacramento gave me a *miracle cream* for those of us with sensitive, annoyingly inscrutable skin. Seriously, I don't know what it is -- it's from some chinese herbalist in SF -- but it fucking works. I was a monster of a bridesmaid in New York this past June. And now I'm like, you know, perfect again. wink.
I've been to the beach, and should go again soon if I know what's good for me. As soon as the weather gets nice again.
We've been swimming at the university pool, which I've never done as long as I've been here. It's not exactly fun -- cause, you know, we're "working out" -- but I like it.
And I just finished a week-long, intensive Dickens conference at school. Now, i don't know shit about "Boz," and I am a sorry excuse of a Victorianist. In fact, I'm decidedly not a Victorianist (in fact, I'm not sure I want to be an anything-ist). But it was a pretty genial environment, geared for grad students -- getting us schmoozing with the profs in a more or less democratic manner. Sadly, one night I had a smidge too much to drink which led to an unpleasant next morning in seminar. See what happens when I'm deprived of social encounters -- excess, my friends! Beware.
1 comment:
forget brooklyn.
Paris, all the way.
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