beyond the daylight, who knew what it could feel like?

"What do you think of James Spader?"
"He needs to call me."

That's the best of what I've gleaned from watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer today, viewed in the midst of washing dishes and folding clothes and general room/apartment cleaning. Or, what I had originally claimed as reading and relaxing on Saturday. Either way, I found the show to be mildly amusing, but I don't think I can find myself obsessing over it as some of my friends who love it. I watched three episodes. Maybe I'll give it another try later. For now, I'll do as my mother does and watch Star Trek while I take care of the laundry. How thoroughly domestic of me.

In other news, I finished A Single Man last night. I thoroughly enjoyed it, especially Isherwood's well-crafted style. There are very few books I feel I could extract more than a few lines from, and this is an exception. I know I've subjected you already to one of my favorite passages, but please bear with me as I share another:

"And now, an hour maybe, has passed. And they are both drunk: Kenny fairly, George very. But George is drunk in a good way, and one that he seldom achieves. He tries to describe to himself what this kind of drunkenness is like. Well - to put it very crudely - it's like Plato; it's a dialogue. A dialogue between two people. Yes, but not a Platonic dialogue in the hair-splitting, word-twisting, one-up-to-me sense; not a mock-humble bitching match; not a debate on some dreary set theme. You can talk about anything and change the subject as often as you like. In fact, what really matters is not what you talk about, but the being together in this particular relationship. George can't imagine having a dialogue of this kind with a woman, because women can only talk in terms of the personal. A man of his own age would do, if there was some sort of polarity; for instance, if he was a Negro. You and your dialogue-partner have to be somehow opposites. Why? Because you have to be symbolic figures - like, in this case, Youth and Age. Why do you have to be symbolic? Because the dialogue is by its nature impersonal. It's a symbolic encounter. It doesn't involve either party personally. That's why, in a dialogue, you can say absolutely anything. Even the closest confidence the deadliest secret, comes out objectively as a mere metaphor or illustration which could never be used against you."

And now onto a third book. I have plenty to choose from, but first, I must get through two books and evaluations for work on Monday. Scratch that, three. My life these days is full of books and manuscripts. I've developed the ability to absorb 300 pages in 4 hours. Such is the projects I've been getting from work lately: not merely slush and mediocre writing taken from the mailroom, but full manuscripts given to me by the editors who act as my supervisors. It's nice, the responsibility. But it's also a lot of pressure. The good kind of pressure, not the Queen + David Bowie kind.

it's 3am, i must be lonely

"A performer at the circus has no theatre curtain to down and hide him and thus preserve the magic spell of his act unbroken. Poised high on the trapeze under the blazing arcs, he has flashed and pulsed like a star indeed. But now, grounded, unsparkling, unfollowed by spotlights, yet plainly visible to anyone who cares to look at him - they are all watching the clowns - he hurries past the tiers of seats toward the exit. Nobody applauds him any more. Very few spare him a single glance.

Together with this anonymity, George feels a fatigue come over him which is not disagreeable. The tide of his vitality is ebbing fast, and he ebbs with it, content. This is a way of resting. All of a sudden he is much, much older. On his way out of the parking lot he walks differently, with less elasticity, moving his arms and his shoulders stiffly. He slows down. Now and then his steps actually shuffle. His head is bowed. His mouth loosens and the muscles of his cheeks sag, His face takes on a dull dreamy placid look. He hums queerly to himself, with a sound like bees around a hive. From time to time, as he walks, he emits quite loud, prolonged farts."

It's been good to do some reading beyond what is required for class and work. This snippet comes from A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood. It's the second novel in my summer-long odyssey to finish the books on top of my dresser - I forget how many there are in total. I'll take a picture of it tomorrow. I find books to be so attractive; each one is unique, and when aligned together they make a very attractive picture. But back to my odyssey...I'm excited to be reading for leisure again. It's the curse of the student, reading academic literature and writing academic papers and at the end of the day too exhausted to even read another book.

Perhaps in the effort to keep myself writing I'll talk about the books I read; I think it'll be a nice direction for the blog, you think?