BLACK HARVEST MOON OVER MY HEAD
The primary thing I should mention is that I miss Ram. I think he's still with his family on a trip out to see Mathu (his sister) graduate from Brown, but I'm not sure, and it's been a week since I've heard from him. You may think me feebleminded, reader, but it's hard to go from lots and lots of daily contact to none for a week, and then a brief and happy bit for a little while, and then none for another week. And then, the great looming trip to India. Which will be wonderful for him, and I know it's going to be a great time, but I still know that it's going to be hard. I want to be back at school, take a walk around with the gang, buy my books, and shoot some shit over coffee or whatnot with everybody. Most of all I want to see Ram walking through my door. I'm sure that most of my longing would be abated if I got a letter from him, but I know that nobody's at his house . . . oh Ram, why don't you come home now?
Ah, well. In other news, some things that constantly impress me:
1.) My ability to buy even more t-shirts from the Goodwill, even though I have two boxes of sweaters and a bureau full of random clothing in addition to a pretty big closet packed full of other clothes.
2.) Mulholland Dr. still keeps me from being able to go to sleep immediately (because I keep on thinking about that homeless man/monster scene behind Winkie's. Come on, you know what I'm talking about.)
3.) Elvis Costello's early twangy voice.
4.) Lewis Carrol. I feel an addiction coming on.
5.) Jenn's new blog, which brings so much interesting self-introspection to the table, way more introspection than this vain little blog of mine.
6.) Those early Beatles records. I know I've said it so many times before, but go listen to "I Call Your Name," "You Can't Do That," and "I Saw Her Standing There." And please join me in the twist.
7.) Ram Subramanian. He waves "hello" to all animals and babies, charms waitresses and old people (although some of the D.C. cops don't seem to appreciate his sense of humor . . . and vice versa . . .), sounds a lot like a girl for the first verse in "Sweet Adeline," looks better in my t-shirts than I do (and disagrees when I say so), knows almost everything there is to know about every Beatles, Pixies, or Radiohead song, has a messy room at school (but not at home), has cold hands, wore a shirt and tie throughout high school but stopped because so many people at school did it mindlessly, doesn't eat eggs, loans me good books, carries a handkerchief, eats a lot of candy, fulfills every requirement on the list of essential boyfriend characteristics I made about a year ago (especially "has a good time in a toy store"), can eat a footlong veggie sub from the "O", is afraid of insects, mashes up his sambar, curry, and rice into one big conglomeration, doesn't wear shoes if he can help it, and makes me feel calm and happy, like we're the two people on the cover of "The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan." Need I go on?
The primary thing I should mention is that I miss Ram. I think he's still with his family on a trip out to see Mathu (his sister) graduate from Brown, but I'm not sure, and it's been a week since I've heard from him. You may think me feebleminded, reader, but it's hard to go from lots and lots of daily contact to none for a week, and then a brief and happy bit for a little while, and then none for another week. And then, the great looming trip to India. Which will be wonderful for him, and I know it's going to be a great time, but I still know that it's going to be hard. I want to be back at school, take a walk around with the gang, buy my books, and shoot some shit over coffee or whatnot with everybody. Most of all I want to see Ram walking through my door. I'm sure that most of my longing would be abated if I got a letter from him, but I know that nobody's at his house . . . oh Ram, why don't you come home now?
Ah, well. In other news, some things that constantly impress me:
1.) My ability to buy even more t-shirts from the Goodwill, even though I have two boxes of sweaters and a bureau full of random clothing in addition to a pretty big closet packed full of other clothes.
2.) Mulholland Dr. still keeps me from being able to go to sleep immediately (because I keep on thinking about that homeless man/monster scene behind Winkie's. Come on, you know what I'm talking about.)
3.) Elvis Costello's early twangy voice.
4.) Lewis Carrol. I feel an addiction coming on.
5.) Jenn's new blog, which brings so much interesting self-introspection to the table, way more introspection than this vain little blog of mine.
6.) Those early Beatles records. I know I've said it so many times before, but go listen to "I Call Your Name," "You Can't Do That," and "I Saw Her Standing There." And please join me in the twist.
7.) Ram Subramanian. He waves "hello" to all animals and babies, charms waitresses and old people (although some of the D.C. cops don't seem to appreciate his sense of humor . . . and vice versa . . .), sounds a lot like a girl for the first verse in "Sweet Adeline," looks better in my t-shirts than I do (and disagrees when I say so), knows almost everything there is to know about every Beatles, Pixies, or Radiohead song, has a messy room at school (but not at home), has cold hands, wore a shirt and tie throughout high school but stopped because so many people at school did it mindlessly, doesn't eat eggs, loans me good books, carries a handkerchief, eats a lot of candy, fulfills every requirement on the list of essential boyfriend characteristics I made about a year ago (especially "has a good time in a toy store"), can eat a footlong veggie sub from the "O", is afraid of insects, mashes up his sambar, curry, and rice into one big conglomeration, doesn't wear shoes if he can help it, and makes me feel calm and happy, like we're the two people on the cover of "The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan." Need I go on?
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