Was exhausted today. After meeting Todd. Philosophy takes a lot out of you. I ate a brownie tonight. Gooey chocolatey goodness. Probably will keep me up. I wrote a poem called "Lines" about, appropriately enough, the line. No, it has nothing to do with Coca-Cola or otherwise. I like the way words sound. I'm actually keeping on the lookout for the shape, feel, and texture of words as I write. And double meanings. For that, we can thank Mallarmé. Whose work I picked up today as a replacement for a falling apart copy. In french. Cueilli something-something from apparition. Tournez la mouton. I don't know.

I have to write a french essay about Mallarmé at some point. He's been much on my mind. The more I think about him, the more I like him. The more I like him, the less I detest him. Sitting on the Peach's doorstep (incidentally hours before they showed up) trying to recall lines of his poetry.

Un-e-den-tel-le-s'a-b-o-lit
Dans-la-dou-te-du-jeu-suprême

I love that. Dou-te-du-jeu. The repetitive sounds. I could just say it over and over again.

Good news. I might have somewhere to live this summer. A friend has generously offered. We shall see. Pay and money and rent. Now for a job. But a place to live, this is a primary consideration. Even if it is in Selwood, rather farther from NE than I would have hoped. But a place is a place is a place. We must be grateful.

Well, these ramblings are done for the day. They have spun themselves and woven to a close. To all my love I bid goodnight.

Alex