Friday, March 21, 2003
 

thirty pages of type exist today that did not at this time yesterday, and i am accordingly sleeping in a cubicle at the expense of my esteemed employer.

thirty pages. fifteen hours. zero rest.

beat.


 

okay, here's a challenge for you.

which one is james cromwell?


Thursday, March 20, 2003
 

mad.

i'd rather be doing just about anything than writing twenty pages tonight on a subject i don't even care about. anyone care about building national identities among the soviet successor states? no? really? how surprising! i'd rather read one of the dozen books on my shelf i've been ignoring since i bought or received them in december. i'd rather listen to my new cat power album, which has been sitting, neglected, on my desk for days. i'd rather scream and yell at the person who invited me to study at the library and wasn't there when i arrived. or at the kids who don't care that despite whether the war across the world is justified, there are people dying over there. i'd rather send fan mail to people who want it. i'd rather ignore my roommates, who are playing music and sorting through the clothes they just bought in preparation for the trip to spain they're departing for tomorrow. i'd rather find out that the war was over.

mad.


 

making light of a truly, truly horrifying and saddening time:

(09:23:53 PM) staaaaaaan: when all this is said and done, if rummy doesn't have his own late night talk show
(09:23:57 PM) staaaaaaan: i don't know if any of this was worth it


 

studying, writing, reading, writing, reading, studying, and it all blurs together

sometimes this library feels like a prison...


Wednesday, March 19, 2003
 

a couple things:

and finally:


Tuesday, March 18, 2003
 

for me, turning in a paper that i wrote in the very final hours before it was due is like going to meet some hot stuff someone i'm trying hard to convince of my overwhelming coolness. there's a tremendous amount of brain actitvity near the end, right before i leave. as i rush out the door i quickly pull on a cute ensemble and sweep back my hair, messy because in my hurriedness i haven't had time to fix it. i race to my destination, windows down, stereo up. i do a fast and fantastic parallel parking job, exit the car and slam the door, and stroll casually up the stairs and across the courtyard, looking amusedly at the stressed-out, scurrying people around me and acting like i'd been meaning to do this forever but i only just now finished having the greatest sex of my life.


 

beware the leader who bangs the drums of war in order to whip the citizenry into a patriotic fervor, for patriotism is indeed a double-edged sword. it both emboldens the blood, just as it narrows the mind ... and when the drums of war have reached a fever pitch and the blood boils with hate and the mind has closed, the leader will have no need in seizing the rights of the citizenry. rather, the citizenry, infused with fear and blinded with patriotism, will offer up all of their rights unto the leader, and gladly so. how do I know? for this is what i have done. and i am caesar.


 

considering that one gallon of gas costs me $2.33, i think it would be cheaper to fly to the bay area (from san diego) than to drive there.

anyone know where i can find a swell deal on plane tickets?


Sunday, March 16, 2003
 

so we're eating ice cream and talking about the seminars we've taken, and suddenly kara says,

"if you ever want ultra-lean ground beef for twenty-nine cents a pound, go to albertson's at 8:30 and talk to caesar. seriously. he will give it to you."

on another note, does tina fey have a web log, and if so, where can i find it? if not, why not? actually, forget i asked that last bit. no satisfactory answer exists.


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