I'm trying to get the murders and manslaughters straight in my head; trying to remember those defenses to equitable servitudes; trying to sort out the hearsay exemptions. But really, all I can focus on is: whence came this headache?I took, ahem, shall we say, a study vitamin this morning. It is purely experimental, just one-third of what a doctor would ordinarily prescribe a narcoleptic or one who suffers from sleep apnea. I'll say that the bulk of the day flew by and I was even inordinately happy for a solid two hours of it. But this headache now -- is it worth it?
Unless... the headache is from the indomitable scent coming from my bathroom, drifting from the damn Glade 3-in-1 toilet bowl tablet I hung on the rim of the bowl yesterday. It's some "fresh rainshower" crap and it is killing me softly. It smells like the bathroom of Fry's; I don't need this kind of industrial strength in my little boudoir.
Unless... the headache is coming from having used too much perfume this morning, which continues to nauseate me. On a lark, I decided to use the old Estee Lauder Pleasures collecting dust in the corner of the vanity. Mistake. Should have left that stuff back in the 11th grade, because the muskiness is simply too much.
But the good news is that I found my Fiona Apple When the Pawn CD, and it's breathing wonderful late-night life into my study routine. Now if I only I could find my U2 All That You Can't Leave Behind, I will be golden.
The following two passages mark the mood for the conversations I have had tonight.
"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. ... A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things."- H.D. Thoreau
Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills,
'Cause I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up.
I got to fold, 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold.
Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love.- F. Apple
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 11:46 PM
1 Comments:
Awww, Karen. I keep getting these reminders that you're no longer the young, perhaps naively happy little girl who used to prance around pirouetting and say "I've gotta go Pleasurize myself." You've grown up into quite a remarkable young woman. Although you've been seasoned by both dark and light aspects of life, I think your constant struggle to better yourself is very admirable.
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