sublingua | |||||
The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
The Demon Who Patrols the Borders of Angst
It�s the second day of school. Here is the diary entry from the paper diary: Walked behind myself on the way to campus this morning. Walked behind the struggling fat chick in size 30 pants, with nondescript hair, plain brown coat. Wrote �myself� on my hand to remind me of it. Felt? Don�t want to admit that I felt sympathy or sorry for her. (Which was it?) That was me and I used not to be able to have sympathy for myself. I did go to class this morning: A biochem class I�m trying to yellow card into. I�m not thrilled that I didn�t have the foresight to register for it earlier, long before the class filled up. But I was being flaky about school as usual, and so didn�t. The lecturer is not a talented lecturer, but it will be bearable, I think. If I can get in. After, there was microbial physiology with Sophistica�s old lab daddy. He is known for never making eye-contact with a student if he can help it. I sat in the first row of the lecture hall, and lo-and-behold, he made eye contact a whopping five times. (I�ve decided that the game I�ll play in his class is to make a tick mark in the corner of my notes every time he makes eye contact. I used to do a similar thing with a professor who used the word �ultimately� a lot. One day he said �ultimately� twenty-three times. I�ve also been known to keep track of a professor�s clothing, so that each day�s lecture notes begin with a description of what he or she was wearing that day.) And not only did he make lots (for him) of eye-to-eye contact, but he also made eye-to-cleavage contact another three or four times, a number I consider a personal triumph. After class, I ran into Mayflower and x and we went over to Starbucks for coffee. Mayflower brought a woman that she works with in the molecular facility and then proceeded to tell the story about how, when we first met, she hated me because I was so loud. (Which is true: I am very loud. I hated Mayflower in turn because she had all these weird little self-protective mechanisms in place which led her to be very suspicious of me even aside from the din that I create in any given space.) We chatted for only a very little bit before it was time for them to go off to work and for x and I to go and meet Mel for coffee. Mel was meeting her friend Syd, so we went along and pretended that we were cool enough, x and I, to hang out with all the subculture kids who obligingly fulfilled my second-hand smoke quota for the day. I called Magdalene to make a later-in-the-week coffee date, went with Mel to the bookstore and bought nothing as my quant text was sold out, met up with Max and came home. I did get to chat a bit with Ladas after dropping Max off at work. Ladas told the story of his son�s recent fourth birthday party, a Spongebob Squarepants ordeal complete with pi�ata. Be grateful, Sublingua. These are your friends and you love them. This is the time to be grateful.
More lies:
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