December 14, 2003, 11:54 p.m.

He's a fag, he's an office temp, and...

back & forth

It has come to our attention that we are now twenty-six, as in,

Okay. One day, in the late mid-Eighties, I was in my early late-20's. I had just been dismissed from University after delivering a brilliant lecture on the aggressive influence of German philosophy on rock and roll, entitled "You, Kant, always get what you want." At twenty-six my academic career was over, I had never kissed a boy, and I was still sleeping with Mom.

Current sleeping arrangements: Do not include Mum [good]. On the other hand do not include anyone in particular except my large, orange, feline boyfriend. [Meow senza Rrrow]

Current academic career: Pining for the fjords. ECG has given me a silver dry-erase board to help me on my quest. It looks spaceshippy, and it's magnetic.

Current thanks: My lovely housemates and honorary housemate SWW made me pineapple upside-down cake and watched the second half of Angels in America with me. Meryl Streep just gets cooler and cooler. WB and A got me soused at Ch*rl**'s on Friday, too, where we saw MRB and (come sempre) some people who went to college with WB.

This week has gone altogether too well (even though I'm still not employed). Like a canny voyageur, paddling my futon into Monday morning, I can smell the pear-shaped coming 'round the bend in the river. Something can always be counted upon to go wrongly.