Snow? Snow! Oh precious fairy dust, falling from the heavens! How angels, our patrons of innocence, must blow you down! -Tiny fluttering children, messengers of a seasonal thrill- Christmas! Christmas! Oh yes I'm Jewish, but not immune, you see. Ach! But you'll fade and melt and turn the world to gloom tomorrow. For nothing born of early November ever lasts a day...
Yesterday I spent the entire day (!) in Barnes and Noble. Does this excite your fancy, dear friends? Oh yes- that lust for literature, I know it well. But I assure you- after the eighth hour in that intellectual haven passed me by... well, I'm afraid even Barnes and Noble can lose its luster. Ten hours in total! No I'm not exaggerating- as I've always thought it gauche to do so- I am in earnest! Well, anyway, while Mother was doing God knows what, (probably reading something, how unoriginal,) I managed to get quite a lot of, er, reading done meself. Two chick lit books that aren't really worth mentioning, a bit of Oscar Wilde (the Ballad of Reading Gaol to be precise,) some Emily Dickinson, a little Sylvia Plat, a pinch of Allen Ginsburg, and I positively devoured Rimbaud. What else? Oh goodness of course! Well I also read Candide- twice- and I reccomend it heartily! Oh satire... Voltaire tells the most desolate of stories in a manner that had me in peals of laughter every other line. Oh Voltaire... Well I must note, as my reading list sounds rather too impressive, that it was not, though I may be tempted to pretend otherwise, my own intellectual curiosity that lead me to peruse the poetry. It was Bridget, oh Bridget! you darling girl! who inspired me so throughly. Ah! Poetry! Well, though I'd've liked to cart off the entire stack, it was only Rimbaud I brought home to revel in. Rimbaud... oh Rimbaud. How perfect you are for the dissatisfaction of adolescence! Oh Rimbaud...
Well, this four day weekend promices to be a bore. I was to hang out with Kiko today (yes, I'm still grounded, oh joy, but Mother found her chains were rusting) but I somehow think that might not happen. Tomorrow night I go see Collin, dear boy, in Pirates of Penzance. Collin? Acting? I must admit I'm mystified. But I suppose its only natural, having exhausted both ballet and choir. An interesting boy, that Collin. And homework- oh happiness deliver me! I have rather a lot of that disagreeable stuff. Hmph.
Anyway... I suppose I ought to leave off writing for now. That child of Satan sounds like he's gotten into the cheese. (Oh curse you, devilish kitten!)
Ta ta.
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Oh you're such a doll :)