(no subject)

i started reading mrs. dalloway on the bus to krys's house when finn was in and around philadelphia, and i actually read mrs. dalloway when i went to see him in london, but i still did not finish it. i put it down next to my computer with only four pages left. i finished it tonight. virginia woolf, i love you more than i can say. my women in literature professor's grandmother was in love with you also. she went to college, and read what you wrote as it was published. sometimes they could only get a single copy to her school, and they'd pass it around like a secret. she was devastated when you died. she still loves you. she gave you to her children, her grandchildren. i am terribly jealous of that. and you say things, things like:

what is this terror? what is this ecstasy? he thought to himself. what is it that fills me with extraordinary excitement?
it is clarissa, he said.
for there she was.

and it just makes me want to cry. so i want to keep parts of you. i want to keep septimus and his italian wife and sally and elizabeth, whom i barely know but who is so like a lily by the side of a pool. i want to keep you all in my heart, sewn up tight, and i want to give you to everyone i've ever met.

the moon is big and full. it was windy today, and cold. i rather liked the wind, but i'd left my emo scarf at home, so i would rather it had been warmer. usually when i notice that it is very windy i think that it has something to do with krys, and usually i am right, so i'm hoping that she is ok just now.

whitney gave me bubbles when i went to see her, so now when i am sad i stand in my room and blow bubbles and pop them until i am happy again. they are cherry flavoured.

lately all i want to listen to is mozart's requiem. i shall play it over and over again. i let my gothboy dress me today, and that was fun, because i'd almost forgotten where my eyeliner was, and my fishnet shirt had just been pining away without me. but then they had no earl grey at school, so i had to drink normal tea, and lipton is simply a crime against nature. i knew that morrissey had a new album coming out quite soon, but i didn't know that there was a song already flitting about until swirl_girlx told me. she is a wee prophet, apparently one with large breasts. if only all prophets were so thoughtful. and by thoughtful, i mean busty. use them interchangeably from now on.

i was listening to the pixies last night so i decided that my blazer needed a purple debaser button, but now i'm not so sure. should i be striving for condensed intellectual irony? would i do better to quote baudelaire? making meaningless statements is hard.