Actual (kind of now inconceivable) elation at something Leithauser said--wow--in last public entry below recalls wryly repeated letters like B period L period... all semester I wanted to say something risque regarding one, but always feared the other'd sight it and get the wrong idea (my English professor, my... friend?, the -n(-way)ie who's hahahaha not getting any! [I hope] (said singsong!!!). I've been reading at a rate of 2 books/day x 27 days, avoiding alcohol after a voicemail atrocity, and am at an elavatedthough standstill. There is nothing to do in South Hadley and I'm confused about languages etc., but nothing acutely. I am going to New York tomorrow at 10:20 a.m. and I am going to be there until Monday and then I have to figure out which classes I'm taking even though I'm currently signed up for American Art and Architecture from Colonial to Nowishness, Art in the Age of the Cathedral, The Second Part of This Year's French, Intro Lit Which I Must Get Out of the Way (and shame on me for skipping ahead and writing a Kafka paper with eleven minutes to spare before the semester's end and not Building Faculty Bonds/caring about the English language for the first few months I can recall), and this biological psych seminar whatnot for distribution. I have minimal interest in l'histoire de l'art at le moment, and am kind of content with just reading Henry James dayafterday. Um, it's unbearably cold. My cheeks are perpetually pink and I'm rather excited about editorial internships to come but for now'd just like some sunshine. What's important is structure, because I've given up for the moment on passion. Hahaha how morbid. We'll see. Lovelovelove.