I do... do

she said she would love to and asked me whether I thought I could. I said: I do, don't. and so we decided on the sweet blissful tasty status quo.

summertime, your daddy's a lecturer, and your mamma too

The lack of back-channelling devices in my Father's conversational style makes me feel highly uncomfortable when talking to him on the phone. I wish he was able to distinguish the difference between the lecture and the non-lecture speech mode.

distraction is female and her name begins with M

1. I'm gonna drink less. 2. I'm gonna smoke less. 3. I'm gonna sleep more. 4. I'm gonna work more. 5. Tomorrow I'm gonna work out. 6. I'm gonna create conditions that will enable me to concentrate. 7. I don't believe I'll succeed.

define the creature in the mirror

read the poem
read it to me
read the poem to other texts (and let them talk to each other)
read the texts of culture
read between the texts
read the contexts
get into the intertextuality
surrender
surround
yourself with the motifs
give in to the structure that determines you as a person as a woman as a mind
read the pages
read the palms of hands
read within
and get back to get the perspective right
let yourself be the transmitter of the content
let it flow, let it flourish through you and beyond
you're the servant, you're the queen
human being
homo sapiens
homo

I've

grown addicted to social interactions.

oh well

so I shouldn't have told her. classic attribution error: she ascribed what I did fully to my personality. she puts out of her mind the situational factors that actually were the determinants. she blames me. she harasses me. 'are you feeling any better now? do you get any satisfaction?' 'yes, I do get satisfaction.' after all, who would believe in the argument that 'it wasn't like me'. it was me. drunk, after a long fucked up day, without her, but with someone else by my side. still, it was me.
tough luck. tough luck. I ain't gonna be a drama queen. I ain't gonna moan. my flat mate gave me three ripe apricots. I am. so, tough luck.