Sun-dance

8.04 pm

Another raining, miserable day. Enough gray outside to wash away all the promises of springtime yesterday's sunshine offered.

I came across a wonderful quote from Don DeLillo, in a letter written in 1995.

"The novel is different. ... We die indoors, and alone, and I don't mean to sound overdramatic, but you know what I'm talking about."

He's right, of course, brilliantly so.

This time last year I was in Florida, attempting to make good on my claim that I'd written a novel. Which, over the course of last spring, turned into something that should be publishable. If I can find time in between Property and Contracts and CARC and BJIL and suchforth to properly edit the thing.

In one of those CDO-sponsored mock interviews, the lawyer asked me what she couldn't learn about me from my resume. I told her I was a novelist. Her reaction surprised me. Ed had told me to keep my writing secret from the other lawyers, that they didn't respect novelists. The interviewer was impressed, not dismayed. She suggested it be put on my resume, as something to distinguish me from the crowd.

It's a thought.

March of the Umbrellas

4.11 pm

Polka-dots: Some things never go out of fashion.

Leopard print: To help you blend into the urban jungle.

HRC: Because if we gave gay and lesbian people equal rights, everyone else would want them too.

Black: It goes with everything. Even rain.

Cherry Blossom:

Like spring in Japan,
along your metal branches
petal-drops falling.

Red: Boy, you really like to make sure you stand out in the crowd, don't you.

Powder-Blue Ruffled Parasol: It doesn't do much to keep the rain off, but at least it matches.

Word of the Day

11.05 am

Connectile dysfunction: When your computer connects to the network, but can't manage to actually open a web pages. Seems to happen most frequently when you have five minutes before class and really, really need to check your email. Suspected causes: lack of current to the correct circuits, incompetent web techs, or a computer with a truly evil sense of humor.

Res Ipsa Loquitur

3.56 pm

Found in the reading for my property class:

Chabanakongkomuk - an Indian name for a fishing place near Worcester, MA. It translates, roughly, to "You fish on your side, I fish on my side, nobody fish in the middle - no trouble".

Pastry Dough and Politics

10.13 am

There's something nice about getting up early in the morning. I like waking up as the sun is just starting to peek through my curtains. If I time my shower right, the whole bathroom is golden with the sunbeams cutting through the steam like spotlights. Plus, there's usually nobody using the laundry machines.

I made scones this morning, cutting the butter in instead of melting it. It's like making play-doh, but better. You coat the pieces of butter in flour, then squeeze and squish until they end up as small, flour covered flakes. The flour starts to get thicker, almost coming together like a dough as you plunge your hands into it and squeeze.

10.20 am

Notes of interest from the morning paper:

Apparently, experience is not, after all, a desired quality in a presidential candidate. The person with the most experience in the executive branch: Cheney. The presidents with the least experience before coming into office: Abe Lincoln and both Roosevelts.

Foreign investors are rapidly buying America. Citibank had been bailed out by Abu Dubai, Singapore, and Kuwait. Perhaps we should ask Japan to invest in Cal in exchange for requiring all students to learn Japanese and eat only with chopsticks.