older
guestbook
profile
|
personality crisis, got it while it was hot
On 2001-12-03 at 5:52 p.m.... So I'm in mourning. Not really in the manner of a Sicilian widow, but I am traumatised. My CD player decided that the world was too beautiful, and consequently flung itself out of my bag and down four floors of a concrete stairwell. The funniest thing was that I did a slow motion 'NOOOOOOO' dive, trying to save it. Despite my having the reflexes of a (heavily anaesthetised) cat, however, it plunged unabated, smashed into a drainpipe and bounced at least twice off the indisputably solid floor. Now, of course, it's imbued with a kind of tragic beauty because it rests in my palm, whirring and buzzing and clicking, trying desperately to please me and anoint my ears with tuneage. It's like a dying hamster, all brave and wounded. I think I'm still in shock. Most tragi-comic thing about this weekend: the post-game riots in 'I'm activist and liberal, honestly' Boulder. Tear gas and rubber bullets versus the highly-trained militia CU population. I live with someone who was there, and he said it was a perfect example of why everyone hates the police in this country. Hm. I've yet to experience the long arm of the 5-0, but they seem a lot more militant than they are in the mother country. I think it's all to do with that 'nation of law' stuff, or maybe it's the kind of people who are attracted to the job. It's definitely one of those Cultural Differences which I'm increasingly disappointed to find out actually exist. Because that way I'm not automatically all-knowing and omnipotent. For example, I know that my friends here speak American and I speak British, but it's frustratingly difficult to pinpoint what the differences are. Oh, finals week. How you taunt me with visions of efficient revision, and then actually find me writing poorly-constructed DiaryLand entries. However, now I must succumb to your siren song in the manner of an Odysseus with thirty-five pages to produce by next Friday. Which would have been a really, really dull myth.
|