There's that pervasive sort of tiredness

that you can almost feel leaking into your bones. I'm not feeling it now, so I have to say that any attempt at describing it right now would not reach the level I would want it to reach. So I'll just throw it out there for now. There is that pervasive sort of tiredness.

I am happy that I have more time left, but I wish that I had more. I do not want to die. I would like to have enough time to do everything I wanted, and to do it without feeling that I'm doing it just so I can cross it off of some transcendental to-do list. I want to live and experience without constantly feeling that I'm doing it so that I can say that I am living and experiencing.

I am not dead

yet.

When you get an order

at 1 a.m. that's due at 8 a.m. and you haven't packed yet, you know you're in for a good night. :)

Not to mention the art hum paper that hasn't written itself like I thought it would, or the Italian presentation that hasn't even started invading my consciousness yet.

My customer's name is People222 apparently. I hate People222.

I will get back to your query just ever so shortly. If I didn't have this pile of junk sitting in front of me, I'd do it right now. But I'll do it.

And I still need to figure out exactly which books I'm bringing back with me... (AGH! Just remembered that I was going to pick up my copy of Grapes of Wrath from my dad's house - and I was there tonight! Dammit!) Thinking about my Faulkner anthology. Thinking about others. I just want to bring them all, even though I know I won't read them. Maybe though. I like for them to be around, always just in case.

Short pants

are glorious. And nice weather certainly makes me more libidinous.

I wrote a version of chapter one. It's not what I wanted it to be, but I am not defeated yet. There is time yet.

Still need to make the chapter outlines. I have no idea how many chapters I will end up having. Nervous about the whole project. Filled with doubt.

Haven't done any "work." Also haven't contacted stepmother. Dreading.....

Behold my glorious words!

Johnny Cash said it

I'm going to Jackson (end quote), where the current temperature is 65 F and the high is a crazy 77!

Still packing...whoops. (or not, I suppose)

I'm bringing some books that I've ruled out having the time to read so they can find room on the shelves at home, but I've also realized that I've got to return with a few as well - books that I've realized I can't properly function without.

I really like that sort of thrill.

I will write chapter one over break, so I will let you, dear blog o'mine, know how that goes.

One more

man.

Just a few more

of these days, and then home for a bit of sun and rest. It seems that the weather is going to be pleasant on arrival - high of 76, low of 60. Unheard of temperatures for this poor southern chap hibernating in the still blustery north. Today has been relatively nice, though. There was a particularly bright sun this morning literally bursting through the slats in my blinds, and while I stood watching children with swords do their strange dance around a makeshift star, I could feel the warmth of the sun on my cheek. Spring is coming, yes?

Well, I can't believe that I've got class in 20 minutes. And with the Barnard construction still going on, the necessity of navigating the winding and thin tunnels makes the trek quite long and annoying.

Then work.

Then work.

I like to think of myself as a usually happy-go-lucky kind of fellow. I don't often find myself being grated by external circumstances to the point that it affects my entire person. I may be grated, but it doesn't have to extend itself into the inner works, you dig?

But damn, when it comes on, it comes really fucking hard.

I had a day today that I'd say comes about once every six or seven months. Maybe not even that often. Maybe there's no way to give it cycle (that is, I sure haven't monitored it) - but damn.

There was a short period of time during which my throat felt like it was constricting, and I could feel the acid in the back of my mouth, and I just wanted to launch the apple on my desk against the hallway wall as hard as I could and yell out, "There's your exploding apple, mother fuckers!" But I didn't end up doing it exactly that way. I gave warning. I made sure to clean up. I can very easily imagine myself in more dramatic scenes than I will ever actually perform. I don't really tick that way. And it may be better if I did tick that way. Suppressing emotions leads to a great deal of neuronal breakdown and cell death.

So I don't know if I am over my funk just yet. I will probably not think about its causes for a while. It comes and goes, though I've noted that those persistent little bugs have been buzzing quite often behind my eyes, specking my views. But I'm just not good at doing things about what I'm feeling. I just don't feel that what I'm feeling is that important. I know that probably sounds oddly proud or self righteous, but I don't mean it to be. I just don't put a lot of stock in my own "emotions," which I can objectively say is odd since I put an amazing amount of stock in other people's emotions when I want to gauge how they might act. But I don't know what to do about it.

So, I was just sitting here a moment ago when all of a sudden an entire hour slipped out of existence. That was saddening.

Weather: It rained a lot today, especially up near Fordham when I met Clare for lunch. As it moved on toward evening, the rainfall decreased and the winds picked up. Howling at times, blowing me back. Skipping across the streets.

As per March 4th

http://www.newsweek.com/id/119010

When 2:30 a.m. rolls around

the thought crosses my mind that I will be waking up in less than seven hours, not only perpetuating this semi-functional, caffeine-dependent Will. It's not necessarily a bad Will. My ability to think is dulled, and I mind that to some degree, but there's also my inability (in this state) to freak out too much. And I don't mind that. I like to think of myself as a pretty chill individual, and I think that I've reached that point where things start to lose some of their import as I slip farther and farther away from the clutches of sleep. My sheets don't get too ruffled - I sleep stone.

And nightmares. None of those lately. In fact, I cannot remember the last time that I had a real nightmare. Lauren mentioned stress nightmares, and I think I know what type she was describing, but I haven't even had one of those in quite a while.

So strange. Sleep, dreams, the extents and extensions, man.

Weather: I think it was pretty humid today, and today's cold made me think of the cold back home. It's that sort of cold that doesn't need to register in the teens to make you fearful of the incredible blue or the wind to pierce every single pore straight into your bones, freezing the marrow. Blue.

Why can't I grow a beard? (A non-molester beard) :(

When I open my window at night, the chill rolls in and soaks my feet.

It's a bit past

my bedtime. Good night!

Sangria, or Mrs. Achey's Foremost Concoction

The train roared through the pristine New Jersey countryside (yep). We were on our way to Metuchen - my second time to the illustrious Casa di Carberry. Pretty sweet deal - friends, fun, and food - and that deal became all the sweeter when Mrs. Achey introduced me to her wickedly delicious sangria.





The recipe being saved from complete destruction by pure luck and curiosity, it was all the better savoring it, knowing that it could have been lost, that Mrs. Achey might have had to double spike the whip cream to get everyone as happy as she did. Luck, yes. Luck in liquid form.





Things quickly became funnier. I would never say that I got drunk, but it was the most alcohol I've ingested since my last run-in with the clear liquors which, believe me, did not go as planned. This time, though, with a little moderation and plenty of Ms. Carberry's wonderful treats around to keep the stomach full and the face happy, things went smoothly, and I enjoyed that little bit of loss, of hilarity.



There is a "Greatest of" list waiting to be compiled. There are also many hours of sleep gone forever, but I won't miss them. I was laughing so hard and so much my teeth started cutting through my cheeks. That's nice.

On a completely different note, the first read-through of the manuscript is finally over and Adam was right, "It could have been worse." It still wasn't good, but I've decided that there is just enough potential in it, and in the things to come, that I will continue to push forward with it. It's a massive project, and I don't really know what realistic time projections will look like. I've got a timeline in my head, but I don't know how loaded my summer will be - and I won't until I'm in it. A lot depends on how quickly I can start creating again - that is, after I go through the rough draft and totally scrap all the X-ed out words, paragraphs, pages of material that was just so bad as to make me want to stab my hands for writing it. But, that's the nature of the beast, I guess.

And summer - that's a good front. Things are really moving forward, or so I'm told. :) My voluntary LOA from Facebook has basically meant that all the housing plans have been moving forward without any sort of involvement on my part. And this is fine by me, at least for now, and I really appreciate Cathy's help with all of that. I'll be back in the game soon, and then I can start doing something a little more in the way of, you know, "helping."

Got a request from Melville House Publishing for an interview, but I don't think I'm going to do it. The position is unpaid, at a slightly smaller house than Arcade, and is in a remote part of Brooklyn that looks like it might prove difficult to access by subway. Plus I'm lazy and reluctant to enter the corporate world without someone to try to peg me as functionally illiterate. So, there ya go.

Life's pretty good. I'm looking forward to a break from school and warm weather, but I am in constant awe that this semester is so quickly moving past. I know that it will be summer in no time. And with it, new frontiers.

Weather: Surprisingly mild. I know I saw Jupiter tonight, so I'd say it's pretty clear, although I don't know if that's holding. Sunny day. Hard for me to distinguish it from other days. I missed about half of it. But I caught the very beginning as it floated in on bird song.