been reading too much kant. ( suddenly pentameters leap out at me from the page )

mutilating chekhov. mutilating tolstoy. it's lovely out.

1. & saturday i go out to play / sunday i go to church, yeah / lord & i

over load, lover ode. yesterday in zhenya's tolstoy class a very piggy oldish man with a very soft voice & a will of iron came in to mumble about the ethics of translating. he looked directly at sam geller (who was having a rough day anyway because he had just decided not to let the paradox sell single cigarettes anymore) & said an eight-line ( Read more... )

( толстой говорит, что... )

bike ride to the cute SE pdx tool library in a corner of an old episcopalian church, weed-wacker bouncing along the bumps. kale-banana smoothie, bergman interlude, indian leftovers. now: what does it mean to be a modern human (& more importantly who is my favorite one), attic dust, coffee or beer. (maybe the arcade fire is my favorite modern human ( Read more... )

1. cause these people they gimme / they gimme the creeps / anymore ( Read more... )

last day of latin. mom-&-dad to arrive early this afternoon. naomi said Are you going to latin on friday? i said Yes because dido kills herself on friday & i didn't read nearly all of book 4 just to miss her suicide. naomi said Well does she kill herself in the morning or the afternoon ( Read more... )

( sam says it's hard to get one's hands on a reliable caesura )

( poor butchered osip m. )

today élan wanted to know what is the sonnet of critical writing? i said the five-paragraph essay. on another note entirely: the next two stanzas will trail along eventually, but thus spake the little engine that could--

( i think it scans i think it scans i think it scans )