June 18th, 2004
I did get on the train to visit Charles (and Clive got on the plane). A word to those visiting unwell friends on Bloomsday: don’t even suggest reading from Ulysses. I did read a few chapters on the train and remembered that it was the domestic bits that really enthrall me.
Went to the nurse practitioner this morning, who I decided is definitely a lesbian, which made me like her even more; we spoke about dogs and sagging breasts. Then had misgivings, while walking through that piss poor park near Friends Seminary, that if knowing someone is a lesbian makes you like them more, is that not somewhere along the same spectrum as people who like people less if they discover them to be a lesbian. I think this useless thinking may be attributed to the heat. I say piss poor park because at the moment I am enduring one of those acute episodes of geographical infidelity. Periodically I awake from the fact that I live here convinced that I have slept through a whole existence that was meant to take place in verdure, simplicity, and relative quiet. The park in question seems to allude to a space reminiscent of the Tuileries, but it leaves me dissatisfied even with its fountain limping bravely in the heat. Grandiose notions in small quarters. Poor park seems dislocated too, or perhaps I just judge it harshly because I feel that way this month.
Thread needs closing.
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I did get on the train to visit Charles (and Clive got on the plane). A word to those visiting unwell friends on Bloomsday: don’t even suggest reading from Ulysses. I did read a few chapters on the train and remembered that it was the domestic bits that really enthrall me.
Went to the nurse practitioner this morning, who I decided is definitely a lesbian, which made me like her even more; we spoke about dogs and sagging breasts. Then had misgivings, while walking through that piss poor park near Friends Seminary, that if knowing someone is a lesbian makes you like them more, is that not somewhere along the same spectrum as people who like people less if they discover them to be a lesbian. I think this useless thinking may be attributed to the heat. I say piss poor park because at the moment I am enduring one of those acute episodes of geographical infidelity. Periodically I awake from the fact that I live here convinced that I have slept through a whole existence that was meant to take place in verdure, simplicity, and relative quiet. The park in question seems to allude to a space reminiscent of the Tuileries, but it leaves me dissatisfied even with its fountain limping bravely in the heat. Grandiose notions in small quarters. Poor park seems dislocated too, or perhaps I just judge it harshly because I feel that way this month.
- rachael 6-18-2004 10:01 pm
Thread needs closing.
- alex 7-14-2007 6:52 pm [add a comment]