for the second night in a row, i stayed up til 3 a.m. talking to ben. the phone startled me out of my pre-bed ritual: cautiously entering the apartment, turning on all the lights, furtively glancing behind doors. my imagination projects bizarre characters lounging in chairs, their suave a contrast to my on-edge. music helps so i rush over and turn it on, often choosing bachelor #2 b/c it's the first cd of the first artist on the machine. gradually i sit down and try to relax, disguted at what a wreck i become alone at night (my suitemate having unaccountably disappeared.)
when the phone rang, i jumped. morose, sick, ben was still better company than the insidious silence of 7F.
this morning i put my feet up in what's become something of a ritual: my chair in the corner (unpopulated by the sinister cigarette-smoking demon of my fears), a roll with cream cheese, yogurt, water, and roots, which i'm really into. at points the blatant sexism of the society disturbs me; i have to remind myself that it's 1750, and whether on or below the surface, essentially all societies were set up the same way.
i wish i'd been alive when the book -- and then the movie -- hit the u.s. i have the impression that it made quite a stir, although maybe i'm totally off. anyone remember/know?
sir marc extended a generous offer to save me from possible housing hell next year. it's good to know the option exists, at least, though i'm waiting to hear from the triplet and/or sorelle before i commit to anything. it would certainly be Going Home Again, a return to year 1 at swat, being surrounded by marc, joc and kenny, ruby and david, ross and rob. ahhh just fast-forward me to wednesday so i can know how this all turns out.
my brother adam emailed me hilariously from australia. i wish i could paste the whole thing up here; instead i'll treat you to an excerpt:
back in sydnay: this is all one nite -- i went on a pub crawl (organized bar hopping with a group) and was talking to this girl all nite, doing really well, definitely going to hook up with her, than she got one glass of white wine ahead of herself and threw up on her shirt. done; she ran to the bathroom and i never saw her again. (same nite) moving on on the pub crawl i met lawrence fishburn. here's the entire transcript of the conversation:
adam -- "i'm sorry, aren't you lawrence fishburn?"
larry -- [stares right at adam, says nothing]
adam -- [grinning like the drunk yid that he is] "yo, you were the man in
apocalypse now . . . larry fishburn, that was pretty cool . . . i don't know
if that's one you get a lot"
larry -- [still staring right at adam, says nothing]
adam -- [accepting that larry is just not gonna say anything] "so, you're
here filming matrix 2, right? probably, i mean they're making that in
australia . . . alright, sorry man. you're the fuckin man tho." [turns
around and trips on his friend eric, who has walked up behind him without
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