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Today I feel like shit. Probably through lack of sleep. Transplants have a way of fucking things up.

Still, it meant I felt that a big old caffeine high was in order for the morning, so I've been pouring espresso down my throat for a fair chunk of the day. And all that time my mind (unsurprisingly) was buzzing and shooting off on all kinds...
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This week is half-term, so I don't have (evening) classes. This theoretically means I get home on time and can have a leisurely dinner in front of the TV, or surf the net, or drink beer, or play video games.

However, for reasons unknown to me, my subconscious appears to have decided that I need to step up the extra-curricular activities to fill the gap....
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sloane:
Thank you! blush
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I miss Boston. One of my friends from there - well, actually from Jersey, but I met her when we were both living there - just got engaged, and it reminded me of what a great time we had.

Watching the Pats win the superbowl, seeing the Red Sox, Legal Seafood, Sunday morning eggs benedict on Charles Street, the bands in Harvard Square, the dive...
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It's beem a little while since I listened to SuperUnknown (that's Soundgarden's finest, for the uninitiated), and I had forgotten how beautiful it was. The way Chris Cornell's voice segues into Kim Thayil's guitar, supported by Cameron & Sheperd's powerful rhythm section.

"She lived like a mother but she died so sweetly..."
And the greatest solo in the history of guitar.

Sorely missed indeed...
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Today, my phone is quiet. The air at home smells of dust, coffee and lavender. I have time to read, to listen to rock, to sleep. And time to go dancing... biggrin

To paraphrase Aristotle, a life without dancing is not worth living.
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Today I had my wisdom teeth out. Just on one side though, on the right. It's all a bit of a mess, I can't eat solids and I'm not supposed to drink alcohol for 48 hours.

It reminds me of snapping my ACL (thats the anterior cruciate ligament in the knee) in a funny kind of way. I was skiing in New Hampshire with some...
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weekends... how do they manage it? When a musical and mildly alcoholic evening rears its beautiful head from the smooth surface of the mirror-like surface of a diary page, there was a hunter with a harpoon ready to kill it. The guilty party will be punished - she knows who she is. Actually, she probably won't and she doesn't - which is just as well,...
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