I was hoping that between Sunday and now I would have a dream I could add to Dustin and Disa's visions of a soft apocalypse-- and maybe mine would also include an image of the flooded plain, like hers, because it touches my mind in a strange way; and then I could post it here and sum up Everything; but all my dreams this week have been just absurdly lame. Like oh! Fly buys a new magazine and I go next door to check it out! or, Doqz lists his five favorite Buffy episodes on livejournal!

But see-- Sunday, when I mentionted my inexplicable burst of optimisim-- the night before I had been lying in bed and I asked for an angel to deliver me from my despair; so I think that night I probably had some kind of ecstatic epiphany dream that I don't remember, which blew a fuse in my . . what? my superconciousness circuit. My angel machine.

the optimism is lingering, too, and it's not even a result of zen-like indifference, but that I'm actually feeling good and enjoying my classes a little. And--

oh god, wait, I meant to mention this, it's great. Last night I was assigned a topic for my end-of-term presentation in my Postmodernism class, right? And guess what topic I got. Online journalling. ahhahahha. You just wait to see what kind of retarded conjecture I come up with.

so school, while ridiculously overpriced and designed to manufacture citizens whose greatest study is of investment & credit instead of history & philosophy, is all right. My classes, aside from Postmodernism, are Italian Renaissance Poetry (during which I keep hearing disa's line in my head, over and over, "forget the birthplace of Petrarch--"), and the second half of--

wait, I told you all this before. Why didn't you stop me?

But also, I did manage to get into that Images of Jesus class; and it's cool except that it stresses group work, to which I have an aversion. Because all my ideas are the best. and private.

there was a funny story I was going to tell, but I've forgotten it. I have to go anyway; I'm doing laundry and babysitting Aisling tonite. I'll catch you in a few days. Love.

alestar

***
Yes, they lead us thither, I say, us who are poets, who by our natures are prone not to excellence but to excess.
~ Thomas Mann, "Death in Venice"