who the helllll does construction at six am?


Then again, the heat is ungodsome, or will be in a few hours. It’s lovely at this second.

RIGHT. Eating watermelon (like a boss), doin’ Accounting (like a bawss), and looking up e. e. cummings poems (like a mildly lonely girl looking for beauty! …and a bawhss). The new fridge came with dryer sheets in it, so it smells nice. They also added a hint of flavor to the watermelon. Mmm, laundry.

My life is eighteen credits long. I have more books to read than hands to hold. My seminar teacher showed up an hour late, and it is a mark of love that we called and waited there for him. (He thought the class was at six, and no one showed up and went home. We came at six thirty and went, buh? A guy called his home number.) I want a friend to get into Lord Byron so I can argue with them and work out how I feel about that petty tyrant. (Good artists are often good people. Great artists are often assholes who live on their own planet in terms of human morals and norms.* It makes them interesting and fascinating to read/see/hear, but pretty terrible to interact with.)

*Byron falls under the latter. OH WOE MY BASTARD DAUGHTER DIED I AM DISTRAUG- hey, are you charging me full price for that coffin? There’s only like, a third of a person in there, you can’t make me pay that much. I WILL DO ALL IN MY POWER TO HONOR HER SMALL LIFE WAH.


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