09.03.05..7:39 pm

NINE HOURS DOING NOTHING IN THE LONGEST DAY OF MY LIFE AND I STILL DON�T FIND TIME TO POST THIS

I�ve got a song in my head that goes I DON'T WANNA WORK, I JUST WANNA BANG IN MY BED ALL DAY except that I�m almost certain those aren't the right words. Pretty accurate nonetheless.

M emailed me bragging that HE gets to listen to an alt-country version of Milkshake by Kelis sung in falsetto by some scruffy twanging dude called �Buddy� (odd that he�s monikered so singularly given the twang and the scruff and the apparent yokelly yodel, no?), which is SO UNFAIR. I�m stuck at boring work doing boring NOTHING and M gets to listen to all kinds of OBVIOUSLY great stuff* that I have no access to. Fucker. I want to hear it. See? If I weren't at work I�d be able to hear it, or at least be able to bang in my bed all day. If for no other reason than because I am obviously getting stupider just sitting here: I have gone through 'woirk' 'woor' and 'woork' before stomping out 'w-o-r-k,' �gort� �gor� and �fot� before managing �f-o-r� and �becusue� �beasue� and beciase� before navigating the keyboard to get to �because�. Jesus fuck me.

*Actually he just told me it�s beginning to grate on his nerves and is fighting the urge to hurl it (single and CD player) out the window.

NOW IT�S FIVE HOURS LATER AND I�M AT THE LIBRARY AND I�VE WRITTEN A POEM

Senate House: the most warehouse creaking library I have ever entered that smells so like slowly rotting books and corroding metal shelves I fell in love the moment I walked through the revolving weirdly up-to-date barcode scanning barrier: A poem by Gallant Meeps (Ms.)

Senate House, your juxtaposition throws me
With a barcode thing at the entrance, I really did not expect
To see books lined up on the floor like that.

Senate House, your scent appalls and delights
It�s the smell of bookrot setting in, and mold on the drain pipes,
And perhaps some left over asbestos lying around.

Senate House, your creaking bones bow under the weight
Of leather and gilt lettering, pressing into the dubious spaces
between ceiling and floor ready to sink at the slightest shift of the
Earth�s plates.

Senate House, your immensity enthralls me, but to be fair,
I was a little disappointed that the catalogue lied so much,
With several of the books I was looking for
Being Missing in Action, or at least not in the stacks.

Senate House, for all your enormous collection,
I was surprised too by the fact you have no section for Derrida,
Yet many for a few philosophers I recognized SO LITTLE that
I didn�t bother taking down their names, but still.

Senate House, what I�m really asking is:
Where is Kate Millet? Where is Jacques Cocteau? And where
In fuck�s name can any Japanese literature be found?

I think you�ve overlooked something here.

But Senate House, I think I will love you long and hard
Like an ape loves an ant hill after she�s found a stick to poke inside.
In spite of and because of your rows upon rows of dust covered
eather-bound spines, spine that have not had a students slow caress,
Overwhelmed, stricken, awed to near tears, tracing carefully
Their embossed letters.

PERHAPS THAT STILL NEED SOME WORK, BUT HERE: COME SHARE MY INDIGNATION

Before heading up to the wonder of libraries, I met up with some old family friends, Louise and Patrick, who have been living back in England themselves for the past year and a half, but rarely come down to London so this was the first time I�ve seen them since I moved over nearly two years ago. Louise is everything-intolerant so I took them to a little cafe in Neal's Yard for coffee � the vegetarian/vegan one with chocolate muffins I weep for joy over every time one of them finds its way into my awaiting gob � whereupon I feasted on one of those sumptuous vegalicious muffins and a �soyaccino� that came �2.20 per! �2.20! Now don�t get me wrong, because �2.20 for BOTH TOGETHER would have been the deal of a lifetime. This sum does not befit both coffee AND muffin, but for the teeny coffee. The teeny coffee by itself. THE COFFEE! ALONE! TWO POUNDS TWENTY! Two pounds twenty can and frequently does feed me for a whole day � there�s an awful lot of fresh fruit and veg you can pick up for �2.20 � plus a cheapo loaf of the Sainsbury�s organic bread and you�re set. And yet they were all, Wow! How extraordinarily inexpensive! We really must come down here again! For the Cheapness, for it is So So Cheap! Outside of that it was great to see them, they don�t dawdle over banalities until you�re all just sitting there wondering when you can leave.

I got a text from my cousin Sims Saturday too, but THAT AFTERNOON ran out of credit, so couldn�t respond. It�s been fecking ages since I�ve seen that dearest cousin of mine! Not that I�m complaining (much), but the tripartite attack of Uni, two jobs and attempting to maintain a feasible sextastic communicating relationship leaves room for little else. I managed to put out a couple of reviews at the end of February and felt like I was flying on a vinyl carpet. On Thursday when I managed to go out with the Wendibird I floated away feeling like I�d achieved something miraculous: the quick glass of wine equivalent of curing blindness.

I�M STILL AT THE LIBRARY AND ABOUT TO DO THAT CHEAP LISTY LIST LIST LIST BLOGGER THING

Reading: The Phenomenology of Mind by Hegel (And actually rather enjoying it, his discussions on sexual desire and the consciousness are dense and fascinating without being sordid or cheap)(Not surprising if you consider it was written in 1807, and sexology was right around the Cenozoic corner); The Politics and Poetics of Camp ed. Moe Meyer (I�m perusing it for essay purposes, but some of the articles in this text are priceless); The Artist of the Floating World (by Kazuo Ishiguro, so tightly constrained the fearsome narrative. Very beautifully written).

Listening: Frances The Mute by Mars Volta (over M�s shoulder, he�s going to their show Sunday and I�m grasslike with envy); What�s It All About by Andrew; and The Bishops EP (They finished it on Saturday and M made me wait a whole day before I could hear it. Bad Stuff: There are some spots that I�m a little critical of, M�s vocals aren�t as sharp as they could be which he knows, but the time and money thing really gets in the way when you�re having to pay for it yourself and then go to work the next day. I think that if I were to review it I�d probably give it a good one, but on the firm acknowledgement that this is a very early EP in the scale of what�s to come. Good Stuff: It sounds fucking AWESOME!! They pulled up the drums which just lends so much ENERGY, the guitars and bass are really tight, and every time I hear M�s voice I see stars and shiny things and start talking in tongues.)

Watching: North by Northwest (for class tomorrow.. I know, what awful awful homework. Awful.); Desperate Housewives (really trashy, I�m not really sure why I like it so much. I often feel violated after it finishes); possibly The Thing or Casablanca this weekend.

HEALTH INQUIRY BECAUSE YOU WANT TO HEAR IT HERE FIRST

I have no ready explanation for this. Maybe we�ve got some really heavy duty crumbs in the bed. Maybe I�ve been tearing at myself in my sleep, maybe M�s been fondly a little too aggressively. Maybe we�ve just got a gremlin under the bed who, sometime around three in the morning, tries to stroke lovingly my arm with its talons. I just don�t know, but when I woke up the other day I found long parallel scratch marks running from the top of my armpit around the curve of my breast. The next day I couldn�t touch my bicep above my elbow because everytime I did it felt like my fingers had been replaced with icicles. The day after that I had a rash on my wrist that vaguely resembled three month old chicken pock scars. Two days ago the thumb on my other hand felt like it had been thrown into a kennel as a chew toy, and everytime it throbbed I pulsed beneath my earlobe. I don�t get it. M suggested it might be stigmata, but instead of Christ I was the cursed one. This is obviously why I love him. Not sympathy, thank you I don�t want it, but if you could just compare me to Satan, I�m sure I�ll start to feel a lot better.

THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT

No really, I�m leaving

****meep has tuperware in her bag