Day 43: Apr 10, 2012.
I'm sorry for the delayed post, I was busy writing a paper, and haven't slept very well in two days. To be fair though, I didn't sleep the night before last not because of the paper, more because of a stomach infection that had me writhing on the couch in between visits to the loo. Gross.
I've started reading the Golden Gate, I realized one page in, that the Hitchhiker's is not really my kind of thing. Or maybe I'm just not in the mood for it. The Golden Gate, however, is beautiful. The verse is rich with beautiful metaphors, very clever rhymes and it's kind of fun, really. What made me laugh was how accurately Seth describes the seeming miracle one experiences when one meets someone special, and how abrupt the descent from witty exciting banter to unintelligable, embarrassing, mush is. Oh honey, my fluffy bunny, is woefully, woefully, accurate.
My roommates pointed out yesterday that apparently I make a lot of typos in my blog. I promise, it's not out of carelessness. I do read, re-read a couple of times, but I just don't see it. I'm a little bit typo blind I guess. Perhaps that is representative of subconsciously how I give something a fleeting glance, and assume I know what it's saying. Hmm. Interesting. Maybe I judge too easily?
Perhaps the most beautiful lines I have ever encountered (yep, the needle's still stuck there):
It's wrong to say, 'I think. ' One should say, 'I am thought. ' I is someone else. I am present at the birth of my thought. I watch and I listen. I draw a stroke of the bow. A symphony stirs in the depths, or comes with a leap to the stage. It began with waves of disgust and it ends... as we can't immediately seize this eternity... it ends with a riot of perfumes."
So pretty, so so pretty. I'm too exhausted to really write anything of much interest. I'm dying to swim, read, watch some frivolous comedy, sleep and get back to work again.
My nails need painting, I need a pedicure, but I'm too, too too tired.
Man's chirping some song with head phones on behind me, she probably isn't aware she's singing aloud, God, I love her.
Weary of the demands of the world,
SV.
I'm sorry for the delayed post, I was busy writing a paper, and haven't slept very well in two days. To be fair though, I didn't sleep the night before last not because of the paper, more because of a stomach infection that had me writhing on the couch in between visits to the loo. Gross.
I've started reading the Golden Gate, I realized one page in, that the Hitchhiker's is not really my kind of thing. Or maybe I'm just not in the mood for it. The Golden Gate, however, is beautiful. The verse is rich with beautiful metaphors, very clever rhymes and it's kind of fun, really. What made me laugh was how accurately Seth describes the seeming miracle one experiences when one meets someone special, and how abrupt the descent from witty exciting banter to unintelligable, embarrassing, mush is. Oh honey, my fluffy bunny, is woefully, woefully, accurate.
My roommates pointed out yesterday that apparently I make a lot of typos in my blog. I promise, it's not out of carelessness. I do read, re-read a couple of times, but I just don't see it. I'm a little bit typo blind I guess. Perhaps that is representative of subconsciously how I give something a fleeting glance, and assume I know what it's saying. Hmm. Interesting. Maybe I judge too easily?
Perhaps the most beautiful lines I have ever encountered (yep, the needle's still stuck there):
It's wrong to say, 'I think. ' One should say, 'I am thought. ' I is someone else. I am present at the birth of my thought. I watch and I listen. I draw a stroke of the bow. A symphony stirs in the depths, or comes with a leap to the stage. It began with waves of disgust and it ends... as we can't immediately seize this eternity... it ends with a riot of perfumes."
So pretty, so so pretty. I'm too exhausted to really write anything of much interest. I'm dying to swim, read, watch some frivolous comedy, sleep and get back to work again.
My nails need painting, I need a pedicure, but I'm too, too too tired.
Man's chirping some song with head phones on behind me, she probably isn't aware she's singing aloud, God, I love her.
Weary of the demands of the world,
SV.
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