friday.

overcast days spent half asleep walking to the transit center which is approximately a mile from our house, ipod blaring, mind somewhere in the clouds, or for that matter, the golden foliage which so lavishly litters the streets, thinking about the Red Bull in my bag which will get me through The Canterbury Tales and the subsequent classes, because as usual i was up too late the night before, and now i find myself absentmindedly humming whatever musician is singing only for me at the moment, like Morrissey most of the time, Joy Division if the sky is especially gray or I'm in the mood for Ian Curtis' delight in the miserable, Be Your Own Pet for the increase in speed it lends to my walking.

that was arbitrary, you're thinking. i guess it's one of those days.



sarah silverman really is the shit.