last night it rained the way you like to listen to but not the way you like to walk in and this morning the campus was littered with drowned earthworms, particularly the hill i had to walk up in the morning. i really haven't been paying attention all fall--
phineasjones may remember me saying dazedly in her car, 'when did all the trees turn colors?' well, they've now all gone from orange to red, only some of them are berries and there's sometimes a splash of gold. the shrubbery which mysteriously appeared overnight in the middle of the quad looks like it's been wounded in multiple little slashes; all the leaves from its top have fallen already, and the scarlet ones on the lower branches are sparse, each one like a little gout of blood.
yesterday in the english department hallway, lurking, i overheard someone say to her advisor with great disgust that 'everyone just tries to imitate hemingway.' and then today the professor said that 'everyone wishes they'd written
the great gatsby.' felt like waving hand in air. 'OH, OH, I DON'T! FITZGERALD SUCKS! ...what?'