Everyone is Talking About Everything
Feb. 17th, 2010 07:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
niriniaThe world did revolve slowly sometime between Saturday and Sunday this weekend, when we were piled on the floor and nothing moved. We re-had old conversations, concluded that men ought to read and be beautiful, and I'm told we had a serious popcorn fight. I pulled out Father's old atlas of human anatomy last week, and poured over it, cross-legged and with a steaming cup of coffee. There are endless bones, crevices and tissues connecting my arms to my torso, and torso to the brain. The linea mediana anterior is without a doubt my favourite anatomical feature, and now I know what it is called. Although it will always be the 'dividing line' in my head. I wonder what it feels like to trace it with a scalpel, through skin and fat.
I'm working on a new theory of friendships: there is a point where you need to have drunken conversations about life, the universe and everything at 3 am. This stage must be passed, along with exposing any embarrassing, or not easily visible, tattoos.
Sleepwalking through A Passage to India (E.M. Forster for a class, attempting to savour Point Omega (DeLillo), haven't had the heart to start Monsieur Pain (Bolaño) yet. Supposed to read Waiting for Godot, but I never succeeded in falling asleep during the play – I think I can pass that off as seeing it? – and am relying on sparknotes. And a poor friend for whom I took notes on 'Combray' (Proust, part one of In Search of Lost Time), who feels she owes me something in return.
I'm working on a new theory of friendships: there is a point where you need to have drunken conversations about life, the universe and everything at 3 am. This stage must be passed, along with exposing any embarrassing, or not easily visible, tattoos.
Sleepwalking through A Passage to India (E.M. Forster for a class, attempting to savour Point Omega (DeLillo), haven't had the heart to start Monsieur Pain (Bolaño) yet. Supposed to read Waiting for Godot, but I never succeeded in falling asleep during the play – I think I can pass that off as seeing it? – and am relying on sparknotes. And a poor friend for whom I took notes on 'Combray' (Proust, part one of In Search of Lost Time), who feels she owes me something in return.
