tavie.com

Things, things, things to say that don't really matter to anyone else. And some things that do. Let's tick them off on our fingers:

Got more KITH tix in the mail yesterday. Front row Philly. Yes.

Mike's mom took him to the hospital last night because his back hurt so much. I am worried-duh. Francesca is worried-duh.

Poetry paper has been extended a week. Therefore I am going to allow myself to not think about poetry for at least a whole day. And yesterday I chickened out about asking my prof about what poetry is, but I did ask him to correct me if I'm wrong about wanting the paper to be more than just a personal narrative about my personal relationship with the poem (as others in the class seemed to think?). But I will certainly share if I do ask him, and my guru did explain it some to me.

For some reason, Kitana doesn't seem to see herself going to a U.S. grad school. But her Canadian inferiority complex, rather than a sense of loyalism, is the reasoning behind this. Tavie no understand. Tavie no understand. She can obviously go to any grad school she chooses. Obviously. Obviously. So I think she's actually just reluctant to go to school in a different country, but doesn't want to say so for fear of being booed at by her American friends. This is the only logical explanation.

I finally get Winter's on the Wing out of my head and someone brings it back...

Matt's biological clock is ticking. I must introduce him to Adam, who had a baby at age 20. That will sober him up. Babysit, child. Find some babies and play with them for awhile. Hm. Maybe I should introduce him to Nina...

Still no San Francisco tickets bought, but I am definitely going to Las Vegas (and so are my sister and Gina. So those tix better go on sale already.

Today on the 1 train the conductor was smoking some sort of crack, because he kept us at the 14th station for way longer than was necessary so he could repeat in a firm, slow, condescending voice, "The next stop on this train will be Houston street, and then Chambers. I repeat: the...next... stop... on... this... train..." (etc) "There is a train DIRECTLY BEHIND THIS ONE that will be making all local stop. I... repeat: There... is... a.... train...." He went through this several times, while some rolled their eyes, sighing, and others (like myself) snickered behind our hands and reading material. Finally we pulled out of the station, sped along... la-dee-dah... right past Houston and stopped at Canal.
He didn't even apologize, either. No "My bad, people... I'm on crack this morning." The guy standing next to me fumed, "After all that noise he made...! After all that noise he made...! He doesn't even apologize!"
Subway fumes rot your brain like it was crack cocaine.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:59 AM | shower me with attention