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it's very bright
Jan. 26th, 2002 10:37 amright now i can't tell if i am still drunk, already hung over, really tired, or some combination thereof. i am taking a coffee break from packing bbecause otherwise i am going to just pass out. i really did not mean to stay out late last night, and it started out mellowly enough, charlie and i just went to pplanet thailand for dinner then to the minimall over on bedford and browsed through the used bookstore where charlie got snubbed by the snooty accented pomo clerk when he inquired about agatha christie novels. sheesh, agatha christie is a classic! not robin cook.
anyway, then claire called and said she was on the train to new york, by then charlie and i were out at the blu lounge with ilka, whom i am excited to hang out with more outside of school, i drank a couple of whiskey sours, which is odd because i rarely drink them anymore, but i felt like one tonight. ilka's roommate is going to teach me to touch a cherry stem with my tongue, i have always wanted to learn to do that. then we went to ilka's apartment in east williamsburg and drank some more then went to rami's party which of course was vortex central, prompting us to create elaborate theories of the vortex axises (is that even a word?) and just in general be silly. i met a cute boy who is an architect and we talked about the fountainhead, of course, since that's the story of all of my interactions with guys since age 16. then we kissed on the rooftop, it was cute. but then charlie was talking to me and i totally blanked on the boy's name so i was like "where did the boy i was kissing go?" and charlie was like "he is right there" and he was right behind me, it was very 7th grade. but still cute.
then i read "kissing in manhattan" which ilka gave me on the way home. i realized that i had read one of the stories before called "the smoker" in the new yorker. i've really been on a short fiction kick lately, interrupted only by "giovanni's room" which i am 10 pages away from finishing. i almost don't want it to end because i want the narrator to be redeeemed in some way but i feel like it's not going to happen. damn it, that's what modernist fiction does to me! reading cold pomo novels i detachedly revel in the disaffect and moral bankruptness and isolation of everyone in the book.
now i have like 4 hours to wash and pack all my dishes and the various other crap strewn about the room.
ooooooh, coffee almost gone.
anyway, then claire called and said she was on the train to new york, by then charlie and i were out at the blu lounge with ilka, whom i am excited to hang out with more outside of school, i drank a couple of whiskey sours, which is odd because i rarely drink them anymore, but i felt like one tonight. ilka's roommate is going to teach me to touch a cherry stem with my tongue, i have always wanted to learn to do that. then we went to ilka's apartment in east williamsburg and drank some more then went to rami's party which of course was vortex central, prompting us to create elaborate theories of the vortex axises (is that even a word?) and just in general be silly. i met a cute boy who is an architect and we talked about the fountainhead, of course, since that's the story of all of my interactions with guys since age 16. then we kissed on the rooftop, it was cute. but then charlie was talking to me and i totally blanked on the boy's name so i was like "where did the boy i was kissing go?" and charlie was like "he is right there" and he was right behind me, it was very 7th grade. but still cute.
then i read "kissing in manhattan" which ilka gave me on the way home. i realized that i had read one of the stories before called "the smoker" in the new yorker. i've really been on a short fiction kick lately, interrupted only by "giovanni's room" which i am 10 pages away from finishing. i almost don't want it to end because i want the narrator to be redeeemed in some way but i feel like it's not going to happen. damn it, that's what modernist fiction does to me! reading cold pomo novels i detachedly revel in the disaffect and moral bankruptness and isolation of everyone in the book.
now i have like 4 hours to wash and pack all my dishes and the various other crap strewn about the room.
ooooooh, coffee almost gone.
