2004-10-28..1:58 p.m.

I've a bit of a wanky headache for the past two days, and the words 'self-indulgent monkeyfuck' have been on rotation ever since I stepped onto the tube yesterday morning. I think that much is possibly in connection to the film I saw Tuesday, Coffee and Cigarettes. Beautiful and poetic without question, but still a director's cut of self-indulgent visual wankery. The last scene was sincerely gorgeous though. I had weird dreams last night, but can't remember any of them. I've been having a lot of weird dreams lately. Maybe I've been eating too late. I took one of my emergency soups (that I now keep in a sad crate of foodstuffs on the counter in the kitchen that will one day move with me out of hobodom and into a flat of my own) to work for the second time this week for lunch because all the money I've got in the WORLD was to get to work today and hope for a little extra to pay for a granola bar for supper.

A whole �5.47 was it. But it�s shrunk to �1.37 because I�ve been conducting experiments. I did an experiment with getting a bus to London Bridge after work and then the overland across home yesterday to moderate success and decided to try it this morning in reverse this morning. I rather figured it'll be the same degree of traffic and if I can do it in 45minutes then WHEE! I'm sailing! Or bussing. AND I�d be making enormous saving in travel costs, because DUDE. �5.30 peak-time travel carding three times a week is painful on my delicate pocket.

But it was a blinding failure and I was twenty minutes late for work, which could have been SHOCKING but no one was in. I�m working at the Marquee so can�t try this next plan of attack tonight, but come Monday we�ll (the royal me. La Roi Moi. Ecce Rex Es.) be trying out getting a bus from Butt-Fuck Nowhere South London (Brockley) to Holborne and transferring onto another one that will take me all the way up to Caledonian Rd. I now know more than I ever wanted about London�s various bus routes. My main aim here with all of this is that if it takes 45minutes then I'll be able to sit in a coffee shop after work and drink and read Joyce til I finish my coffee and have no excuse to still be sitting there, or until my little heart's content. Wait. I got that backwards, didn't I.

So school is going really rather well, though I�m already getting poxed by the thought of looming essays (looming as in not until February, but they still make me nervous). Although Tuesday�s seminar was the shittiest thing I�ve been to since second year.

[The short story: Tuesday was a waste of time because the two seminar groups that make up my course converged for the day and the convener, Derval, effectively spent an hour ignoring the subject at hand. Because that subject was Structuralism, which isn�t easy, and because she�s patronising it made me and my half of the group really quite annoyed. The Long Indignant Rambling Mess In Which I Use Gratuitous Language To Convey My Frustration:]

SERIOUSLY! WE ARE FUCKING MASTERS STUDENTS! We wasted an entire fucking hour doing totally-unbeneficial-except-for-the-convener admin bullshit that really ought to have been done on our own time in a pre-arranged meeting with her. What�s more she�s not even MY convener! We combined seminars Tuesday because my own NONE BULLSHIT convener was at a conference being scholarly! And our side had already gone over this shit � taking all of FIVE FUCKING MINUTES � the week before and had AGREED to please make arrangements to come and see HER. ON OUR OWN TIME! NOT WHEN WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE STUDYING FUCKING SAUSSURE! Jesus.

(Yeah, I�m still kind of riled about that one.)

In any case, the whole exercise of Tuesday�s seminar felt like a giant leap backwards and no one felt like Saussure was made any clearer. Seminars discussing linguistic philosophy and structuralism aren�t the easiest thing at the best of times. But they are made infinitely worse when all but three of those participating have no philosophy background, and worse still when the entire shift of thinking leaves the academic and moves on to an hour of admin. A stupid exercise in which no one paid any attention to anyone else until it was their �turn� to be addressed by Derval.

Whatevs. I shouldn�t even think about it, it just makes me irritated. In any case, after class we all headed to the student union and got mildly wankered which is becoming a bit of a post-seminar stopping point. Great fun, but crap if you�ve got to be out of the house by ten past 7 the next morning.

Right. LAST thing. Regarding M (my friendly neighbourhood boyfriend). I�ve been staying with the boy for nearly three weeks now and have come to the following conclusion: it�s weird living with him. I like it, I mean I like the coming home to him and knowing he�s coming home to me. I like the domestic cooking for each other and going food shopping and arranging furniture. I love that we work well together and can do our own thing, but I hate that we don�t have dates any more. I really miss that. But as I have a fairly interesting lead to cease the shack-up at the start of December and not with some sleezoid London landlords expecting me to shell �110 per week for some scummy laminate kitchen table clothes to sleep under either, but with a girl on my course who lives in Stokey. If this comes together it will mean that our (M and my) dateless dating will come to an end and it will be back to nervous anticipation and giggling at the thought of seeing him FOR THE WHOLE NIGHT!

Jesus. DID ANY OF THIS MAKE SENSE???

****meepopolos