A Trivial Comedy for serious people archives

Everyday I'm waking up to you,
Every time I see your face I'm feeling something true.
And since we gave up drugs and started drinking I feel new.

I think I learned to love because of you.

Oh how I can't sleep. And I don't really feel like anything, except that silly song which is in the volvo across campus.

2003-09-03, This double bubble plastic wrap will save you.

I've a sort of dread weight on my heart right now.

I'm going to try to forget about it and just go to the gym.

2003-09-01, spike and burn

First day of classes, and not a class for me. I realized that I might like to take a class on European history in the 20th century about fifteen minutes after it started, I sat in on a Medieval Latin course that I don't think I'm going to take, and my film studies class didn't seem to be held.

An utterly unexciting day, truth be told. At one point during my jog I had a panic that a car was about to run me down, but aside from that I haven't strayed much from the level. I honestly can't complain too much.

Certainly some of my friends have had worse. One friend is totally justified for her foul mood, another claimed a bad day but I think she might have been joking since she later revealed that she'd spent most of it sleeping.

Two of my friends are studying German, and I'm taking a German history class, so I'm wondering what kind of Germanophiles we've gone and become. I met a sweet looking froshling waiting for the film class that was not meant to be, I got an interview tomorrow for my job, I got good books out of the library - Steven Pinker and Angela Carter. My computer is being weird. I'm in danger of becoming a shut in.

2003-08-31, news from the mawr

George is dreamy.

2003-08-30, better news than my slanted ceiling

I think the realization that my room will have a slanted ceiling is about to make me cry, and that I am tremendously emotionally unstable, and that I should go find a therapist to give me some mind control drugs, and that it's not as good a thing as I would think to feel everything good or bad like a stab wound, and being intense is all fine and good for poets and other bohemians but for me it gets in the way.

But I will hit my head, you don't understand, I will hit my head.

Woe!

2003-08-30, a resounding "what the fuck?"

Last day of work! Oh praise Jesus!

It was a cute one, though. My coworker and I were installing some shelves, and I had a shelf that was a bit warped. I went to put it in the reject pile, and he shouted "Maybe I can bang it into place!!" He was just so ready and excited to use his mallet. My supervisor and I laughed at him. What a cute boy.

Then, later on, he sought me out in the stacks to show me "a 40 year old rubber band, Margaret! It looks like a piece of uncooked spaghetti!" He was so excited. About the rubber band. My insides were convulsing with laughter.

2003-08-28, last day

I hate it when there's stuff I want to say and I forget.

Here's a funny story: The other day I was cleaning my room, and I found a black bra that was definitely not mine. I started hollering for my cousin, asking if it was hers, or if she knew whose it was. I wondered quite loudly where this bra had come from, and why it was in my room. All of a sudden my brother came up in a panic on the verge of hysterical laughter, telling me to shut up! "I threw a party Margaret! Don't let mom and dad hear!"

Someone other than me got naked in my room! Ugh!

I told the story to Becca and she revealed fantasies about my house. Dude. No. No fucking on my dining room table - the thing has a center support and it's wobbly. She's nuts. Furthermore, it is my house! No lascivious fantasies allowed!

(For all my bawdiness - I was hitting on Becca all night and by hitting on I mean lots of "How you doin?" and "Who loves you, baby? You're beautiful," and "Wanna go to a cheap motel on the turnpike, you and me?" - I am really not all that kinky. Nor thrilled that drunken highschoolers were fooling around in my bed.)

Meanwhile, my great and unabiding love for Duran Duran has suffered another one of its flare ups, and so I've been driving around on these warm summer nights blasting Ordinary World. I drive in a trance, taking in everything with my eyeballs instead of focusing. What a sad, sad song. It's like he's resigning himself to mediocrity, and he's not sure if he'll survive. How sad. I thought about the summer, and how mostly I've just felt a kind of dead inertia and numbness.

There have been good bits, though. The last few weeks have been really a grand improvement. But I haven't done some really important things, like write Gabe or scan some of his letters for him. I find myself craving him lately (water for thirst), but I need to write. But this inertia rides me like a baboon on my back. I did work out today, despite a hangover and generally feeling nasty, and finished feeling so strong and so sexy. How do I love my muscles?

Is it wrong to love Duran Duran more than you love your mom? Sure, your mom brought you into this wretched and unpleasant world, but Duran Duran is a bunch of very pretty boys. The winner is clear.

2003-08-26, the lights, the TV and the radio.

I used to think that I could will myself unfoolish, but that doesn't seem like it's going to happen anytime soon.

I spent the day sewing a lovely pillow and shopping and washing my hair. (Yeah, I know.) More interestingly, I also dug through the attic, searching for fun things to bring to school with me. I found some choice children's books, a ceramic egg that says "Margaret" (because what do you do when you forget yourself?), a box with frogs on it, and best of all - a small metal suitcase. I opened it up, and it smelled like a perfume of my childhood. Various pilfered potpourris and candles filled it at one time, but it held all sorts of doll paraphenalia at one point. The rush of memory made me feel a little dizzy and frenzied.

I also finished watching Rosemary's baby. I belive I'd saw off my left leg to spit Cassavetes' character in the eye. What's your take on Cassavettes inDEED? In addition to being fully qualified to author the pamphlet "So you've been mistakenly raising the anti-christ as your own child," I can write "What to expect when you're expecting the anti-christ." What a fabulous movie.

I can't wait to have an author blurb where I may write these things. "You may remember me from such guides as 'So you've been mistakenly raising the anti-christ as your own child,' and the best-selling classic 'What to expect when you're expecting the anti-christ.'" See, my lust for horror movies can lead to a career as a best-selling author. I should let my parents know they can quit the tuition payments.

2003-08-24, The cross I'll bear, the wave I'll ride, if thou but with me now abide.

My hair smells like salt. I'm staying up too late these days (all the fault of le George). Today was one of those days I want to marry. The sun bleached out my hair. We stood in the water, while the children body surfed. Really, now, if there were no ugly days could I not appreciate today?

2003-08-24, I don't think so!

Their fan I tickle
From serpents to dragons
Id immerse you in flame
Your milk and your passion
Lead weight for his from his old turn
The young, I was eagerest
On using the stairs I
How nested to find you
I buckle and rosed...

2003-08-23, frou frou foxes in midsummer fires

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