what are sports teams for if not getting drunk?

cate: i ate five twinkies in 30 seconds.
me: ...how?
cate: i don't know. it was crazy.
me: that's, wow. that's 6 seconds per twinkie.
cate: *nods, drinking milk*
me: so you could eat half a twinkie in three seconds.
cate: *laughs and spits milk all over herself and both our computers*

(no subject)

my sleeping habits are too, too weird. and i have to write this goddamned essay today. this teacher fell in love with my first one. there seems virtually no chance she won't find the second disappointing. also, i still owe you an apology whether you want one or not, but i'm still not quite capable of coherence.

i don't like temptingly beautiful days.

the essay cannot be written outside.

pet peeve:

in. correct. punctuation.

GRRRRRRRR.

learn how! for god's sake, it's not hard!

better than hugs? o_O

noisy, sordid snuggles for you and your little kookie too. and for you, more translated neruda from veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada.

In my sky at Twilight

In my sky at twilight you are a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.

The lamp of my soul dyes your feet.
My sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song.
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depths of my eyes, your plunder
stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins.

essay-writing...

who wants to write a novel about making virtue of necessity?

how depressing.

but i might want to do it. mmm. potential for goodness. villette is good, despite being by a brontë and rather long-winded.

i have 7 pages of notes from my last class--wow.