wow. just—wow.

by A.

I just finished Ballard’s Cocaine Nights. Hands down one of the best books I’ve read in years.

I should have been doing a thousand other things, mainly studying for the Spanish test tonight that I surely will not pass. Just not enough hours in the day.

Was feeling lazy, so I walked down to the football field and jogged a half-mile on the track. I felt like going farther, but my iPod died. Due to my family (who thinks it’s a wonderful idea to move other people’s stuff without telling them), somebody hung my coat up in the hall closet when I was at my aunt’s house. My iPod Nano is still in the pocket of that jacket. So I have to use my hella old iPod that barely works (the battery lasts maybe three hours, and it will barely sync, I think there’s a bunch of bad sectors on the hard drive). I miss my Nano, it can be almost dead and still last through an entire workout.

I don’t know what I’m doing today. I feel this wall of apathy that I can’t break through. I still only have written two pages of the four that I’m supposed to write about that poem. Also, I’m supposed to have a zero draft. I plan to write some dada masterpiece to pass off as my zero draft, but I doubt I’ll have time.

Ah, my roomate just got home. It’s beginning to get dark.

Walking to class this morning was like taking a 20-minute cold shower each way. It’s the worst feeling getting out of the elevator and realizing that you don’t have enough time to go back up to your room and get an umbrella. Class was so-so, I mostly wrote haikus about how much I disliked the class. 2-3 people actually did their homework. We’re not even pretending any more. Whereas before I felt alienated because I liked the short stories, now we’re doing all this medieval poetry and it is boring as shit. Let me compare thee to a summer’s day? Let me compare thee to a Summer’s Eve. I just don’t know how to write pages and pages about a poem that’s 14 lines. How much is there to say about a poem like We Real Cool? That poem has become a running joke in the class.

I should go down to the language lab and study. I should do a lot of things. Pay off my credit cards. Unsubscribe from the UO email list. Donate to the ACLU and the EFF again. Write a calm e-mail explaining that I was incredibly insulted by what he did although I still have feelings for him. Stop waiting for torches to burn out. Stop reading TechCrunch and Gizmodo, stop spending hours on Reddit.

I feel trapped by the impending shitty weather. Summer feels free, a bountiful harvest of possibilities. Winter feels like a wet, dark tomb.