it's 12:31 pm, on December 13, 2001 - it's not the years, it's the miles.

~

It's time for an update, because I have no more finals and only one term paper left, all about Alexander and his sex life. It's good to have a hobby.

On the way home from the Latin final today ("quam primum volo dormireque omnia vito") Elizabeth and I were discussing how absolutely horrible the weather was. You know the kind of rain ("imber") that seems to, not even fall down from the sky, but also sideways and even up, from the tires on the road? The whole fucking world is grey and wet and miserable. It looks like twilight all day because of clouds.

We listened to Caribbean music ("audivimus") and talked about how lovely it would be to have a cabana girl rub oil on our backs ("tergi"), while ("dum") we sipped margaritas and sunned ourselves. It was a really nice picture, especially considering the miserableness out the windshield.

I opened this window at all, because I was reading someone's journal and they said they went home to Rockville, Maryland, and then I was going to say, "I want to see Rockville next year" because.

I also want to see the Largest Ball Of Twine.

--just spent the last like, forever, looking at mapquest.com. Apparently, Baltimore is 15 hours from Memphis. That could be covered in a day. It's a dream ("somnium") and that's okay.

Talking to claire and she's saying a lot of important things, and I'm glad to hear them. I understand her trouble ("mala") because it's universal. She just said, "For a long time I wasn't sure. But I'm sure now."

Lance wants to be sure of something; his mouth on Justin's cock might as well be it.

~*~

That's from 'encore', or sort of is. I think I butchered it.

Remembered ("memoris") what Al's little notebook said. "It does not do to be romanced with one's own mythology."

I think she said back, "bit late, little notebook". It's funny the things one remembers.

~*~

But I think it's time to take a nap, now ("iam") because I am tired ("fessa") and also, possibly read 'encore' again, before I sleep.

Michael stipe is crooning "I will survive". It feels like so many miles. Michael is now crooning "I had too much to drink, and I didn't think, I didn't think, of you", because 'half a world away' is still a love song, somewhere in my vocabulary. Somewhere where this is true:

"I feel old," he confides in her.

"It�s not the years, it�s the miles," she says.

~

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what would sith be nostalgic about anyway - November 24, 2015
moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
- - July 19, 2015
- - July 01, 2015
bruise - June 29, 2015

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