Two pages of absolute gibberish in the can. This should not feel so slimey. But I'm still standing, several hours of contemplation and deep conversation later. Note to self: 2 am is no good for nostalgia, emotional breakthroughs, or existentialism. I miss morning being a novelty. I've seen the wrong side of 3 am far too often for my liking this month. But I know that far too soon I'll miss this, will crave this intensity and craziness.
Recap of the Dead List:
Dead:
Logic Three Pager
Seven Pages of IA
Dying:
Logic Presentation
3-5 more pages of IA
Working knowledge of Russian
'Eh. Who the hell cares:
Aural Skills
Spanish
Workbook and Corrections
Practicing (HHAHAHAHA)
And I'm out. Smokey-fish, signing off.
"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz..."
About Me
- Me, I'm holding out hope for a zombie attack
- “What are you, life? A silent theater of Chinese shadows, a chain of dreams, a charlatan’s store? Or a gift of unrequited love---that’s all that is intended for me? What about happiness? Ingrate, you’re alive, you weep love strive fall and that’s not enough? What?...Not enough? Oh, is that so? There isn’t anything else.”--Tatyana Tolstaya
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