Music: the Joe Meek favorite, Have I the right?, with its trashy-fuck-pound-on-the-floor drums during the chorus and Dennis Dell's [?] enthusiastic singing.
Drink: home made orange-lemonade.
Cats: ZD is lying on the mat in the downstairs bathroom looking more like a thrust-aside tea cozy than a cat; M's front legs are tucked under his chin so that he looks like a kind of large, furry, three-legged squid.
We did our manners proud: MG and I shooting an encyclopedic amount of shit in (in turn) my workplace, in D*v* *nd**n B*str* over artfully-presented pakoras and chilled watermelon soup, and on the front porch at the Q***r W*rld. This last accompanied with a great deal of white burgundy and explicitness. We are dismayed by the crass self-centeredness of our dismal species. Our we is editorial, even though it applies to two people. People need to be reminded of their place in the universe; we're just the people to tell them.
Clashing tunes: soupy hymns on the carillon and the B52s' Rock Lobster. Watch out for that piranha!
The idea of grad school only gets scarier the more real it becomes. It and I are the main characters of an Italian thriller from the 70's. Eventually the main characters meet, and that's the best part.