PJ Harvey and computer terminals
I'm at school, trying to make last minute edits on "Seeing Things," the short story I'm workshopping for class next week. It's the shortest story I've written in years (about five pages), and although I know length (or lack of it) doesn't matter, I still worry that it's not enough. Maybe I should have prepared another short short, and turned them in together. Except I don't have another short short. And writing one would have distracted meReally, though, I'm just procrastinating on my revision of "Irene and Pale Man." I wrote a little more of the new scene on Metro North this morning, and actually have a pretty clear picture of how I want to end the story. I don't know why I'm reluctant to work on it.
Jason just called. He just got off the Bronxville train -- and I'll meet him at the library after class at 5:30. We plan to have sushi at Haiku, a great new Japanese restaurant next to Slave to the Grind. I look forward to the sweet potato tempura sushi.
I've been reading Dan's blog (angryandsloppy) lately, and it makes my blog look like a quaint girly diary or something. I wish I had it in me to write intellectually stimulating rants. Guess I just don't.
This morning John and Stella (his new girlfriend, at least until she leaves for Taiwan -- actually I think she's leaving today) were making strange noises in his room. Jason thinks they were on acid, but I'm not sure what on-acid sounds people make. They spent what felt like hours in the bathroom, and then Stella left a compact with a broken mirror carefully taped into it, labelled "Stellie." Mysterious.
posted by Empress Girl @ 2:11 PM
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