:: Modes of Fretting ::
I think it's too soon to say...| [::archive::] |
|---|
| [::points of reference::] |
| :: Local music tastes best [>] |
| :: Why I'm in gradschool I [>] |
| :: Why I'm in gradschool II [>] |
| :: I like to lurk at thresholds... [>] |
| :: fullest props [>] |
| :: Repetition is a form of change [>] |
| :: Art [>] |
:: Tuesday, September 04, 2001 ::
Tuesday.Spent the weekend in the land of my birth. Mostly I read Martin Amis' memoir Experience and felt a peculiar multi-pronged nostalgia: for college and its combination of "intellectual industry" and "acute irresponsibility" (Discontent), and for a huge sprawling ancestral home. I don't know where I got this idea - it must have been Dead Babies or Success.
So I decided that in addition to my sister's family living "over the ridge," it will henceforth be said that the neighbors' land which borders our backyard will be known as "the dell," and that the bit of rusty iron fencing by the back room (the one that looks like something out of Zork) will now be known as "the back garden." Nobody else seemed to understand what I was talking about, but curiously enough I didn't care.
And Monday I sat at the lake house my parents borrowed for the day and read and thought about the end of the summer and the beginning of fall. I also swam for the first time this season (excellent timing, I know). And I had an avuncular chat with my nephew. Tried to come up with a haiku for the day but could not.
All in all, a good weekend. And all in all, a useless blog.
:: aaron t 5:54 PM [+] ::
...
