Divine Design

Friday morning: Kim and I had no idea that our lives were about to change forever. I worry that you will think I am exaggerating when I tell you that this was the best breakfast we have ever eaten. It was a fluke, really; neither of us had ever heard of Clinton Street Baking Company. I found the restaurant on Yelp because it was close to the Hasidic Bra Shop where we planned to go in the Lower East Side.

Kim ordered the Southern Breakfast — two eggs any style, sugar-cured bacon, cheese grits, fried green tomatoes.

I ordered the Spanish Biscuit Sandwich — scrambled eggs, melted jack, tomatillo sauce with grilled chorizo, with hash browns.

There were many silent moments. We were shocked; we were glowing; we had connected with the Divine.

In a daze, having come closer to Nirvana than I have ever felt from eating breakfast, Kim and I made our way to the Orchard Corset Center, also known as the Hasidic Bra Shop. Again: Divine. The Hasidic man who runs this business is a kind of savant. While fully clothed, and never touched by the Hasid, I was asked to stand up straight, and then to turn around. After only a few seconds, the Hasid was able to tell me my actual bra size and the size that I was wearing when I entered his shop. He did the same for Kim.

We were given lots of bras to try on in the back, and I left with three half-priced, perfectly fitting new bras for a total of sixty dollars!

I worry that this post does not do justice/even come close to the profound planet-shifting experience that Kim and I experienced. We are frightened to go back to Clinton Street Baking Company because how could the second time ever be as good as the first?

In other news, on Friday evening, Joe and I were sitting in Madison Square Park enjoying a treat from the Shake Shack when directly across the sidewalk from us, a squirrel accidentally fell (maybe fifteen or more feet) from a tree and landed with a thud onto the pavement. The animal was still alive, but seemed to have injured its limbs. In a state of panic, it rushed like a paddling frog across the sidewalk toward me and went right under my bench and back into the grass. I can only think that this strange occurrence is somehow related to the magic and mystery of the day's events.

sturdy: capable of exerting considerable effort or of withstanding considerable stress or hardship

Here’s the unfolding thesis drama as told by emails between the director of my graduate program, Steven and myself:

Gili,

The fed ex package was sealed and didn’t appear to have been tampered with. Is it possible that you or someone just uh, neglected to put the thesis in the fed ex “sturdy pak”? I know that sounds unlikely . . .

S

***

S,

Haha. That is SO weird. No, I was the one to put it in the sturdy pak. (I love that it's called "sturdy pak." Do bad things happen more often when the spelling is horribly incorrect? For instance, do Qwik Marts get held up more than... more than what? They're all misspelled: Stop 'N Go, Dunkin' Donuts, Kwik E Mart!) It was sealed up and on its way when I left Kinkos. I will try again this weekend. Sigh.

G

***

Gi-

That is VERY strange. You should at least get reimbursement from Fed Ex, no?

Anyway, even if you wanted to bring the thesis to the residency, that would be okay--or send it a cheaper way with a return receipt so you know we get it.


Let me also check with our University mail room--but that it was sealed still perplexes me.


S

***

S--


I just talked to a very nice Southern woman at Fed-Ex. She gave me a case ID and she filed a claim (if this is like when the police “file a claim” after your bike gets stolen, we can kiss my thesis goodbye). She asked me how much the contents were worth and I lost it, laughing so hard. I told her my blood and guts were inside the package. She didn’t really understand. I managed to stop laughing long enough to let her know that I had no idea what the monetary value of my thesis was but that it was probably REALLY EXPENSIVE. She said that you should hold onto all of the materials that you did receive from them (I guess the sturdy pak). The whole thing seems like a lost cause. I DO want to get it to you before graduation because it will help me get a sense of completion.

It may take me some time to reprint it and rebind it.

Groan,
Gi

***

G—

I’ve put the sturdy pak aside—luckily the recyclers here are slow. We checked with the mail room and they don’t have anything.

Let me know if I can be of help further. All very strange.


S

the case of the stolen thesis

The director of my grad program just emailed me:

Gili—



I received a fed ex package from you today, but there was nothing in it!



S



Looks like I will have to resend my thesis this weekend. Not ideal, but not a huge setback.

According to Atu, my ki is in the right place. Maybe Aikido is helping me take things like a missing thesis in stride.

let's get physical

Today at the post office, the woman in front of me turned around and grabbed my hands in hers. She held on tightly, pulled my hands to her shoulders, mumbling something that I couldn't hear over my i-pod, and I tried to pull away. She was an old woman, wearing thick, dark sunglasses, and she didn't respond to my facial expression (alarmed), which made me wonder if she was blind.

Finally, I shook her loose and turned away from her. Then she was distracted by the woman in front of her. She held on to the other woman's hands, who seemed a lot less resistant. I thought they knew each other except the first woman left the post office without the second woman.

Because the woman with the thick glasses left alone, I decided that she probably wasn't blind (no guide dog or cane).

The intensity of the interaction felt like a dream.

Ever since I moved to New York, I've been curious about unintentional/intentional physical contact with strangers. Our bodies are so often pushed together on the train, in the stations, even in the streets. Sometimes I'll walk down the sidewalk and my hand will brush against another person's and I'll wonder who is this other body? Many times, right after a moment of physical contact something happens: an apology, a quick jerking away, a look of disgust.

At the post office, I asked myself, why was it so important in that moment to get free from her hands? What would have happened had I let her hold on?

bound (but not gagged)

Early morning Pilates with Kim. I don’t think I get the point of Pilates, but I enjoy Kim’s company, so it’s worth it to suck in my abs for an hour every Sunday morning. We met up with Umber for brunch at Ovelia (brunch is the opposite of sucking in my abs), followed by much sunning and bumbling around Astoria.

BIG news: Yesterday, I sent my bound thesis off to school. I’m having mixed feelings about finality and closure. But I’m really proud of the writing and the work I have put into my thesis.

Now, I just need to organize my seminar. I’m afraid I’ve started floating away from grad school a little prematurely; I’ve got to buckle down for this last month.

Last night Joe and I saw the new, Norwegian movie, “Reprise.” I loved the story, the acting, and the colors. Yes, this is a good one, a really good one.

Smart read: Innocence by Harold Brodkey
Because of Jens, listening to: Arthur Russell’s A Little Lost
Because I feel like it, listening to: Vetiver
Too good outside to be inside: Up on the roof
International Blog reader: Berlin! Welcome!

the kind of heartache that I crave

I haven’t been able to articulate myself; therefore I’ve been silent about Ethan Canin’s story, Batorsag and Szerelem in the collection, The Palace Thief.

March 16, 2008: I finished Batorsag and Szerelem and wept at brunch with Joe. I have thought about Canin's story almost every day for two months now.

Devastating and intensely private. (Here, I'm associating unspeakable sadness and a frightening honesty with privacy.)

For two months, I haven’t had the words.

Other short stories, which have entered my bloodstream over the years:

Some Other, Better Otto by Deborah Eisenberg
What It Was Like, Seeing Chris by Deborah Eisenberg
Doctor Jack-o’-Lantern by Richard Yates


Currently reading an arrestingly desolate collection of novellas, The Diving Pool by Yoko Ogawa.

No news is

good news?

Sunday in the Park with Kim

Socrates Sculpture Park in Astoria offers free Pilates on Sundays. To add to my evolution as captain of the hippies, I attended class this morning with Kim. We’re making Pilates (followed by Sunday brunch) a weekly tradition.

My weekly exercise regime now includes:
Aikido, Pilates, running, and meditation

Who am I? What’s happening to me?

"Like glass balls movin' in like cold streams of logic"

new practice: 5-minute meditation on the roof

words in the air: Patti Smith's Kimberly

words on the page: Aikido and the Dynamic Sphere: An Illustrated Introduction; Stop-Time; The Diving Pool: Three Novellas; Lying: A Metaphorical Memoir; and The Joy of Writing Sex.

redirection

For better or for worse, yesterday I got to put my new ideas from Waking the Tiger and Aikido into action. I figured out what I think is the main point of Peter Levine's book:

Traumatic, bad, and violating events occur in all of our lives (unless we are really, really lucky). When trauma happens, many of us instinctively get stuck/frozen/defeated. But there are ways to mentally/physically take control and power back.

I was physically assaulted yesterday (I'm okay!). As soon as the event occurred, I became paralyzed and overwhelmed. Immediately, I needed to reorient myself to my surroundings. I called Riva.

This is where things usually stop. I tell people and then don't know how to move beyond trauma.

But yesterday, I was ready for the next step. I began to visualize using a move that I am learning in Aikido to defend myself against the man who assaulted me. Every time I imagined the attack, I imagined physically taking him down. The images (of the assault and of Aikido) began to develop as a pair in my brain.

I went running and when I pictured the assault, I would physically swing my arms across my center (as though shifting his weight away from me).

In the afternoon, I attended Aikido and worked on the movement (that I had been imagining in my mind).

The sense of power I feel is new and exhilarating. Empowerment doesn't remove trauma, but it allows forward motion.

Latest metaphor: Yesterday, I was reminded of a rugby song that we used to sing in college: the basic idea is that you can't go around, over, under or behind in rugby; you've got to go through it.

real time

A couple of nights ago, I talked to Jen H. for the first time in (at least) five years. We’ve been writing letters to each other for years, but this was so different. We were bubbling over. At one point, I asked her what if we ran out of things to say to each other and then neither of us could stop laughing. We have so many shared and parallel life experiences, and we were instantly able to impart insights and ideas into each other’s lives. We talked a lot about the (dys)function of self-criticism particularly in relationship to our art. Soon, she will be studying viola in Montreal. I can’t wait to visit her. This reconnection feels like a continuation, an obvious progression in my life. (I took this picture of Jen during the first year of our friendship in 1997. We painted our bodies for fun.)

I’m headed to Mundo to meet Kim. I’m so fortunate to have such good friends from my past in my present life.

Unrelated, but I realized that today was a major commuting day. The subways I took today: V to the 7; 7 to the E; V; R to the E; R home.

Songs that I love: I Feel Like the Mother of the World by Smog and If You See Her, Say Hello by Bob Dylan.

Still not reading fiction, which might be adding to my feeling a bit unhinged lately. Taking it slowly with Waking the Tiger.

Big Brother Update: I have a blog reader in Switzerland!

photo adventure with Veronica

This dumpster is Shomer Shabbos.


Veronica and I stopped by the Chelsea Hotel for their Anniversary Photo Exhibit.

Boring blog post

Wednesday afternoon Aikido class is my new favorite time to go. Ruth is the instructor. She’s patient, supportive, and has a lovely British accent. Here's a video of Ruth teaching a class at the dojo. I worked with a woman named Gali, who encouraged me by saying, “That’s it” with sincere reassurance. I can’t wait until things begin to fall into place.

Speaking of encouraging women, Rachel K’s feedback was positive and supportive. When it comes to my writing, I love constructive criticism that reminds me where I need to keep my attention.

The students in my graduate program call Rachel the Laser Beam. Now I see why: she zoomed in on one of my big tendencies and articulated what I do with precision.

I’m a feedback junkie. This is a problem since I’m about to graduate and enter the real-world void.

One more word about Aikido (for now): In my hippie self-help book, Waking the Tiger, Levine mentions Chrysaor, who was the warrior with a golden sword who emerged (along with Pegasus) from Medusa's slain body. In Aikido, the hand-movements derive from holding a sword, which "conveys a sense of clarity and its triumph, of rising to meet extraordinary challenges, and of ultimate resourcefulness" (Levine, p. 66). So I think I'm on the right track.

*Update on Big Brother stats: another person in Canada reads my blog. Hello other secret Canadian blog reader!

revising my blog

While having a delicious lunch with Vanessa at my new favorite Vietnamese restaurant, Cong Ly, she convinced me, as a comrade blogger, to use sitemeter. I’ve never wanted to get sucked into the behind-the-scenes of my readership, but since commenting on my posts has dropped off, it’s nice to check if anyone is actually out there. Sitemeter allows me to find out where in the country you (the readers) are located, on average how long you spend reading my site, and how you found my site (which site you came from before arriving at mine). I have a reader in Ottawa! Welcome, Canadian!

I just wanted to be upfront about the fact that I am watching you, since the whole thing feels a bit Big Brothery. More updates to follow (if there’s anything worth reporting).

In other blog news, you may have noticed that I have removed the background colors from my blog. Explanation: I’m feeling minimal.

I’ve been thinking of splitting my blog into four sections (on the same page so that the screen would be divided into four boxes), but I don’t actually know how to do this. Polarchip, can you help? I would update each section separately. There would be one section where I would write about family/friends/social life stuff; one section for my writing and reading life; one section for Aikido and other physical activities; and the final section would be for ???? (Suggestions are welcome.) Do you like this idea? Do you hate this idea? Too fragmented? Not coherent? Or would it be easier to read?

This past weekend, Denise and I went to see The Universe of Keith Haring in the Tribeca Film Festival on what would have been Keith Haring’s fiftieth birthday. Denise received free tickets as a volunteer with the festival, which was such a strange coincidence because she had no idea that I was obsessed with Keith Haring as a teenager. When Tara and I were fourteen or so, we began reading everything we could find about Haring and the other pop artists in his circle. The postcard and all-things-pop collecting became an obsession.

Here is a photograph that I recently took of my bedroom in Florida, which has remained the same for the past fourteen years. What's wrong with a little nostalgia now and again?

The Keith Haring movie was a bit hard to follow and had no real narrative coherence. The cool part was that Keith Haring’s family was in the audience. AND Kenny Scharf and other pop artists from his posse attended the screening. The event made me realize how much I miss being in community with lots of creative, artistic, passionate people.

In other news, my column for bookslut has been postponed due to a mix-up. So keep an eye out for my debut in the June issue.

escucho: Aurora by Pam Berry
lei: Waking the Tiger by Peter Levine (This is an excellent self-help book about learning to live after trauma. I actually stayed up late reading it, and I'm not usually one for self-help books.)
miro: Harold and Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay (Brilliance!)
ella coadjutores: Riva taught Pipo a lesson!

Serves you right.

“If you’ve never served as a juror before, you haven’t yet lived.” So says the oldest white man on the planet, a judge at the Queens County Courthouse. I have now had the honor of sitting through his memorized, thirty-minute speech about jury duty TWICE.

I am unclear about whether or not it’s illegal at this time to state on my blog that I have strong anti-American feelings, and every hour that ticks away at jury duty, this emotional anguish, dare I say hatred, grows deeper.

I have become That Girl; no lawyer wants me to serve on the jury for their case. I’ve made this into an occupation.

Day One:

Right away, I begin to plug away on my laptop because coinciding with jury duty is the deadline for my seminar agenda for graduate school. But wait! I’ve only begun to make myself comfortable when a security guard politely yells (I do think this is possible) at me for putting my feet on the chair. As soon as he walks away, my feet go back up.

Way to stick it to the law!

Maybe there should be a special section on the jury questionnaire where you can write in a few sentences about how you respond to authority. That would save us all a lot of time.

Fine, I’m back to working on my seminar, and my name gets called.

Something to know about civil court: if it’s possible to rank lawyers based on any kind of integrity scale, I’m dealing with the bottom-of-the-barrel, or maybe the gum stuck to the bottom of the outside of the barrel.

My first two lawyers set the tone. SMARMY! I felt like I was being sold a broken down car for the price of a new one. I went into bratty mode (not hard for me) and told them how very, very busy I am with my thesis, and that it would be impossible for me to give my attention to anything beyond my education.

These lawyers like to talk way more than I like the sound of my own voice. After a few cracks at my birthplace (Minneapolis), I was sent back to the jury pool downstairs.

Just when I was settled into my chair (feet up, of course), my name got called for panel number two. You don’t need all the details. Here’s the quickie: AMERICAN FLAG NECKTIE! And of course, smarmy.

I won points with my fellow prospective jurors because one of the lawyers asked me a question and I said, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening to you.” How much would you not want me to serve on your jury? I tried to fake falling asleep, but when I reenacted this for Joe later, he said I wasn’t convincing. I’m going to try harder today.

It’s day two. I’m back in the jury pool, praying my name doesn’t get called and that I get out of here unscathed. In G-d we trust.

Currently I’m listening to Sade and reading Joy Williams. Jury duty can be a cultural experience.

Update: I trusted in G-d and they released me! My name didn’t get called once on my second day. They sent me home with a certificate of completion. This almost feels as good as finishing my thesis. Almost.

(This) Sister Almost Lost Her Traveling Pants

Today in Aikido, my gi pants almost fell off. Tim and the instructor agreed that tomorrow I can start training with the rest of the class, but I’m still such a beginner. Not yet! Not ready! Pants almost falling!


I stopped by the Jefferson Market Library where I saw the most beautiful librarian (after Riva, of course) in the world. I was going to tell her, but there was another librarian who wasn’t half as beautiful right next to her. Instead, I told her that I hope she has a good evening.

I was in such a joyous mood post-Aikido (Tim taught me how to take someone down by the twist of the wrist!) that I picked up an M&M cookie for my train ride home, which I promptly gobbled up and then followed with a bottle of orange juice.

I have a new invention. Usually I don’t like to announce them publicly because of fear that my non-patented ideas will be stolen, BUT it seems to me that a certain organization that I am affiliated with recently stole one of my ideas, so who cares? Not me.

Newest idea: Lite-Shampoo- just a quick cover-up for those times when you need to shampoo more than once a day. For instance, if I shower in the morning, go to work, then go running, what do I do with my hair? It’s not time for another intensive treatment. This merely dries the scalp. Yes, yes, I know about Kiss My Face’s Whenever Shampoo, but that’s to be used if you shampoo everyday, not more than once a day. I want super, super non-threatening twice-or more-a-day shampoo.

Finally, to address Polarchip’s concern about my blog name: I AGREE! But every time I ask for help, I am met with startling silence. So, help, or don’t tell me to change my name. I still like “My Main Character,” but somebody vetoed that idea.

Pattern: My ideas are either shot down (RIVA!) or stolen (not going to rat out those of you who have stolen from me, thank you very much!)

Oh! I’m just pent up because I need to talk to Riva and she’s too busy getting an education. Enough with the life-learning; call me!

Eyes on the prize: Joy Williams’ Honored Guests
Ears on the preers: Kiss Me Only With Your Eyes by Future Bible Heroes

It's all happening.

Yesterday was kind of major for me. My thesis mentor has finished giving me all my feedback, and my thesis is on its way to Rachel Kadish. She's my reader and I'm definitely curious about her opinion, as my mentor is really the only one who's read my work in its current state.

I can't believe my graduate program is almost over. I feel like my head has been buried in the sand, and yesterday I finally looked up at the sky.

Or, another metaphor: I feel like Michael unleashed me and I'm not quite sure how to walk around now that I'm so dependent on the leash to guide me.

Going to Aikido tonight to celebrate.

Achey Bakey Heart, I miss you already

Heather and Abbey, sisters of the traveling serious fun.


Emily in Central Park.


Nick, I've let you down: sending you back to VT without a boyfriend. Don't give up on me.


Adorable, camera-shy Abbey.


Oh? You want to take my picture? Oh, okay.


Foxiness exuding from the other side of the table. Franny and Heather: boiling plates.


Abbey, I promise that if you move here, I will stop myself from non-stop Aikido talk. Just give me a chance.

On that note: Even though I'm a little bit sick right now, Aikido was AMAZING today. Peter, my instructor, said that I'm doing really well for my fourth day.

Fashion tips from Franny: She suggests that I tuck my shirts more (and somehow, not in a dorky way). And she's a big fan of me wearing vests and belts. So much to learn from the good people/fashionistas of Vermont.

I have this friend, Abbey...

...and she's fierce.

Abbey and friends arrived! As planned, we kept the cash-flow to a minimum. The visitors are in love with Yaffa Cafe. (Nick, in particular, manages to find something to appreciate in almost everything. I admire that about him, and hope some of this trait rubs off on me.)

We took a tour of my old neighborhood, and we ran into Rob, good old Rob. According to him, I was lucky to get out of my apartment when I did because the kitchen sink apparently backed up and stuff came flying out. And there was some kind of flood (worse than the one that I encountered). A tenant moved in for a couple of weeks, but right after the sink problems, he skedaddled. When talking to Rob, one must assume that everything he says is an exaggeration, but still, it was nice to hear that I made the right choice about leaving.


Mostly, the five of us chilled in Tompkins Square Park: a little people watching and a whole lot of sun.

Abbey's sister, Heather, and super bff, Franny are moving to the city this summer, maybe even to Astoria. All the cool things about Abbey exist in her posse, too. Eeep! New friends!

Carry your own darn weight.

Maybe I should just rename this "Gili's Aikido Blog."

Day three kicked my buns. Mike makes funny, squeaky noises and today he showed me what it feels like to have my wrist/arm/elbow twisted off. So great!

All this empowerment illuminates how much energy people/work/things take from me instead of give me. I'm learning how to be strong, how to contain my own energy, and how to not put other people's weight on my shoulders. I can shift my weight, so that others are empowered to learn to carry their own (damn) weight.

Tonight, Abbey is driving from Vermont to New York! We're going to have a cheap-ass, penny-pinching time, hanging out together! And tomorrow, the weather is supposed to be gorgeous.

I danced on the train home, just thinking about how good I've been feeling without all the energy sucked out of me by unneeded stressors.

I wrote a secret reminder note to myself on both sides of my hand.

In honor of Pesach, today one of my new students asked me if I am Jewish, and followed up with a question about whether or not my father is a rabbi. That's a new one.

more like me

These are strange times: As I was running through Astoria today, a pigeon flew directly into my shoulder. I could still feel the impact after the pigeon had flown away. (Remember my recent pigeon dream?)

Aikido = So perfect.

I learned new falls, rolls, attacks, and movements today. Mike instructed me. Again: patient, cheerful, kind, and positive.

Veronica and I ate sushi for dinner. We’re going to have a photo-adventure day in New York soon. Both of us like roaming around the city and taking pictures.

I hopped in the tub for some much needed relaxing of the muscles post-running and Aikido, and after an hour, my doorbell rang. On the second ring, I answered the intercom. Kim was in my neighborhood, checking out the area again. This could be our summer life: stopping by to say, “Hello, what’s doing? Want to hang out?"

Watched The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 preview today. I can't wait! (Stop judging me.)

Must get some shut-eye.

I Like Not Knowing

I did it: I Aikido’d. My instructor, an Australian mate named Luke had patience and encouraged me/gave me positive feedback. He taught me basic rolls and attack positions. I’m going back tomorrow for another lesson before meeting up with Veronica in the evening.

For the most part, I spend my time participating in activities, which I’m already somewhat good at doing. I like the challenge of being a beginner in Aikido. It’s humbling and engaging, and there seems to be an infinite number of skills to learn. Plus, I have to be present in my body, which means taking a break from over-thinking. Also, I like being the new girl.

After Aikido, I met Kim at our favorite brunch spot in Astoria, Ovelia. (Did you know that sometimes omelets are made with French fries inside of them? Recommended!)

We walked back to my house and admired the view from the roof. Then, we stopped by the realtor’s office to find a new home for Kim. She may rent an apartment in a building right next to mine! I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but they are.

-Eyes on the page: The Cement Garden by Ian McEwan and the comics of David Heatley
-Eyes on the screen: Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, Coming Apart, and Kadosh
-Ears on the noise: I Got it Bad sung by Nina Simone, Hard Times in New York Town by Bob Dylan, and Nobody’s Baby Now by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

Happy day two of Passover!

the beginnings of an upswing, I do declare

Hello! What a gorgeous day to be alive in New York.

Last night, when I got home, I went up to the roof and watched the city for a long time.

This morning, I observed my first ever Aikido classes. Everyone was so warm and eager to answer my questions. I almost started crying from the beauty of watching such an understandable metaphor for life. I've wanted to do Aikido since working with Meredith in the Bay Area, and now I am progressing into more self-actualization. I feel empowered and I am regaining my strength.

Tomorrow, I think I will head back to Manhattan to take my first Aikido class (nervous!) before I meet up with Kim for brunch.

(Thanks to Mom and Dad for giving me Aikido classes for my birthday. Thanks to Gracie and Meredith for seeing me.)

Lifelong goals that are still on the list: Tap dancing, getting much better at playing the drums, and springboard diving.

Happy Passover! As the old folklore goes, because I was born on Pesach, my mother told me that my first word was, "Matzo." I'm not going to admit here just how long it took me to realize that this was a fallacy.

cher is my rock

I don't agree with plagiarism, but I'm going to pretend that I wrote this genius blog post.

my fake birthday in boston

I spent my fake birthday with my two favorite people in Boston.

a bit more bv

Everybody needs a Riva.

I'm coining a phrase (can you proclaim that?): Blogger Voice (or BV)-- When a person says a lot in a blog post, but really says nothing because they don't need the whole world to know everything about them, or even anything about them.

-About to start reading: The Selected Stories of Richard Bausch
-Finishing line: in sight for my thesis
-Friends don't let friends: go goth (thanks, Riva, for stopping me before it was too late).
-Don't know why I'm addicted to: Camera Obscura's Happy New Year