Entry tags:
there are thieves, who rob us blind
This is my time of great unrest, the time of of the Great White Western Privilege Troubles. South America seems so long ago, like a fairytale out of a book I read a long time ago, when I was a child and still believed places could be uncharted, a colonialist's wet-dream.
Well I'm homeless now, sleeping on couches and rolling into law school with unbrushed hair and an intellectual swagger. I'm not exactly a humble person, and practically living in a building that was built specifically for the law kids, which includes the most amazing University library you will ever see and secret nooks and crannies filled with couches and floor-to-ceiling windows, well, that doesn't help my enduring sense of entitlement.
Scenery matters to me, and while I'm kind of lost at the moment, stumbling around the city in a house-hunting-induced delirium, with no footing but that found in half-cocked classified ads, leaping puddles and trying to remember those long ago times when I landed back in Melbourne and found out China Town had turned into a river.
The weather's bleak now, nothing dramatic and nothing sunny, just grey, sometimes a little greyer, never comfortable. I can never be happy in my own skin when the sky is sky and not roiling clouds or blinding blue. There's something indecent about whether in which you can neither curl up in front of a laptop nor go outside and read in the sun.
...I think this is where Wes Anderson steps in and force feeds a deranged literate parrot, a half-blind limousine driver and a long-lost celebrity brother into my life.
-
Books I've read over summer if anyone wants to talk about them:
Tender Is The Night - F. Scott Fitzgerald (every single song in the world now reminds me of this book)
The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath (I stayed up all night because I couldn't face finishing it in the morning, it was so bleak and so lovely)
Love in the Time of Cholera - Gabriel García Márquez (swimming in tears and light, because I can't not get purple-prosey about my love for this man's genius)
Franny and Zooey - JD Salinger (haters gonna hate, I'm a convert)
Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters & Seymour: An Introduction - JD Salinger (he is so much wittier and lighter in spirit and heavier in soul than I ever imagined)
The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro (a kind of simple perfection)
Jack Maggs - Peter Carey (dark, amusing literary hat tricks)
The Aleph - Jorge Luis Borges (he breaks my mind)
Well I'm homeless now, sleeping on couches and rolling into law school with unbrushed hair and an intellectual swagger. I'm not exactly a humble person, and practically living in a building that was built specifically for the law kids, which includes the most amazing University library you will ever see and secret nooks and crannies filled with couches and floor-to-ceiling windows, well, that doesn't help my enduring sense of entitlement.
Scenery matters to me, and while I'm kind of lost at the moment, stumbling around the city in a house-hunting-induced delirium, with no footing but that found in half-cocked classified ads, leaping puddles and trying to remember those long ago times when I landed back in Melbourne and found out China Town had turned into a river.
The weather's bleak now, nothing dramatic and nothing sunny, just grey, sometimes a little greyer, never comfortable. I can never be happy in my own skin when the sky is sky and not roiling clouds or blinding blue. There's something indecent about whether in which you can neither curl up in front of a laptop nor go outside and read in the sun.
...I think this is where Wes Anderson steps in and force feeds a deranged literate parrot, a half-blind limousine driver and a long-lost celebrity brother into my life.
-
Books I've read over summer if anyone wants to talk about them:
Tender Is The Night - F. Scott Fitzgerald (every single song in the world now reminds me of this book)
The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath (I stayed up all night because I couldn't face finishing it in the morning, it was so bleak and so lovely)
Love in the Time of Cholera - Gabriel García Márquez (swimming in tears and light, because I can't not get purple-prosey about my love for this man's genius)
Franny and Zooey - JD Salinger (haters gonna hate, I'm a convert)
Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters & Seymour: An Introduction - JD Salinger (he is so much wittier and lighter in spirit and heavier in soul than I ever imagined)
The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro (a kind of simple perfection)
Jack Maggs - Peter Carey (dark, amusing literary hat tricks)
The Aleph - Jorge Luis Borges (he breaks my mind)
