what this month has shown me:

exactly.

gerunds! what? yes please. more.

Nothing like news you've been waiting to hear since you started: another exit ramp in sight; another jaunt across the wire; another junction; a new set of strings. Or, you're graduating in May of 2009, officially. Or, faculty members saying the right things about you around one another.

Something else you might have thought of: A capstone project.

*

I took the afternoon off today. I didn't work out. I spent some money. J would consider what I did as personal time. There comes a point when your level of output can't match up to your level of input and all you can do is throw your hands up and turn around. Sometimes you wake up and realize that the idea of making breakfast was simpler when you smoked--a piece of toast and a cigarette. And sometimes, you'd rather sit on your porch in a fall sweater with a comrade for the entire afternoon and not think about going out or making any kind of plans.

For now, I'll imagine that I am. That's good enough. Maybe tonight I'll play golf indoors and finish a few Thom Jones stories while the Japanese ladybugs collect and crackle in my light fixture from the warmth of the glass.

Meanwhile considering how the deer was already dead before we hit it, and gray scale of the sky today.

I really could've titled this blog, "Looking at this weekend and wishing it were last weekend" as well.

The farmer's market was one of a kind. However, they weren't selling mangled venison. Instead, there were gourds enough to go around Madison's capitol building. It had squeaky-cheddar cheese, kale, rhubarb, and children dressed as pirates with eye patches shaped like large donuts on their small faces.

The Madison didn't feel that far from home, but sleeping in my bed as opposed to on an air mattress with J made me miss the company of the weekend. That old stench of familiarity that, when packing my dirty clothes in my duffel bag, the odor of cigarettes climbs inside me and I remember how we always wanted to be drunk, but would complain about how we couldn't get there. If there's one thing to be said about the Madison, the curry parkway, biscuits and gravy of familiarity, the heavy iPoding, the eating dinner with the most suitable company possible and chasing it with far too much home brew and wine, the trivial pursuit, or the pensive dog--I'll just leave it at "Books are gay." It seems the simplest way to describe the jaunt of the weekend.

*I didn't just unpack today, or finally wash my clothes today. Rather, I'd written half of this and decided to wait. It happens like this sometimes, but I don't think it's any less relevant or any less sincere. The weeks fly by--I can say that much.

Also, I'll change the background color by the next blog.

I'm considering robbing the library

of a book I've wanted for quite some time. I could, copy the pages out that I like. But I notice that in the plain view of the book, there are three stickers / barcodes to pull off: two on the cover and one a few pages into the book.

Fuck I sound poor.

to listen, wednesday 10:55pm

thus it will be another late night as I've a test and a paper to write before the end of the week and want to get it done RIGHT NOW, I've compiled a list of tracks for the evening and a large cup of variated tea bags I found in my collection.

1) Endless Miles - Sundowner
2) Resurrection Fern - Iron and Wine
3) The Old Holland - Rocky Votolato
4) Windowsill - Arcade Fire
5) All Cleaned Out - Elliott
6) Pamphleteer - the Weakerthans
7) One Night in Bangkok - Murray Head
8) Bad Blood - Bright Eyes
9) Gleemer - Ben Gibbard
10) Days on End - Buck 65
11) Eli, the Barrowboy - the Decemberists
12) All the Wine - the National
13) Jackie Lee - off with their heads
14) Runnin' the Front - Toys that Kill
15) Title Track - Okkervil River
16) Window Bird - Stars

*
also: new font.

I'd like to put you on--I'd like to wear you out

This is the first Coca-Cola I've tasted in quite some time. Thursday will be the first Madison I've visited. The best road trips start in the night, with the sky black and the interior lights illuminating the car. Stealing your attention. The Shepherd's Dog on the stereo and 300 open sober miles.

See, here you're supposed to take the urine on your kitchen carpet (yes, carpeted kitchen floor) and find comfort in the fact that aside it someone's also busted a watermelon whole on it and seeded the room. You're supposed to be the only person with a spine. You're supposed to come home at 5am after just having closed the store, open a bottle of yellow tail for yourself to ignore the fifteen animals still awake.

It will be good to sit around a table with a shorn dog wearing wayfarers barking at me, and I, eating cinnamon rolls, blending in--in the comfort of three perfectly touched individuals who are loud and smart and unfettered.

dear blog, what do you think maya angelou's car is made out of?

Actually, I think it's made of bananas and wasted fruit. But, don't worry--it all breaks down in the ecosystem, just like scrap metal rusts and renders itself useless.