THEY SHOULD TURN OFF THE SITCOM AND PICK UP A BOOK
I just got back from watching the documentary about Derrida with Megan and Adam. It was a great time, even though it was dreary and cold all night and we had to walk around downtown for a while to find the theater. Derrida (French deconstructionist) looks so imposing in the stills on the posters, but in reality the shock of white hair and the tobacco pipe are softened by his mannerisms. He's a really warm, funny person, a lot like Joshua (my godfather). The documentary is interesting mostly for three elements: the voice overs of excerpts from Derrida's work (which is brilliant, despite being voice over), the pure voyeuristic thrill of watching Derrida spreading butter on his bagel and closing the caps on pens, and the amazing tension between Derrida and his theories about deferral which are underlined and exploded by the reality of having cameras and recording devices around him.

Obviously, the three of us fed on this stuff like vultures, and we finished the evening with conversation about authenticity, passing, performance, self perception/awareness, Pier 1, consumerism, and it goes on. This is honestly the best feeling: having access to information and teachers, and taking it all in, and comparing notes.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT
Today: tried to print out my play, went to playwriting, tore it up with Adam A. (like always), went to jazz ensemble rehearsal, hung out with Jon on the Morewood heating grate, went to the student reading, stayed at the student reading, came home, blabbered on IM. And still I haven't written out my assignment for Jazz Ear Training tomorrow. It's going to be a late night.

A LIFE OF CONFESSIONS WRITTEN IN THE DUST
I'm forced to conclude that I must have looked really hot today. I was wearing a new black and white houndstooth skirt (from the Goodwill this weekend), my Un Chien Andalusia t-shirt, and my brown velvet blazer, and I was walking to Jay's Bookstall with Megan and Adam. As we walked by a bus stop a skeezy old-ish guy looked me over and said, "WHOA!" really loudly as I walked by. I wasn't as disturbed by it as I thought I would be by that kind o thing, maybe because I was with two people and not very worried about my safety (at that moment.) If I had been alone, though, I would have definitely been freaked out.

I got an application for employment at Jay's Bookstall, which is my ideal summer job. (I hope.) I really want to stay in Pittsburgh over the summer, and I really want to not work at Barnes and Noble. I'm sure I may have other prospects, and I really want to see whether I may be able to work at the English office over the summer. Maybe I'll just have a few jobs and see what happens. It's an exciting idea, though, the prospect of working in a book shop, especially the awesome kind that's on the McSweeney's 100. And the kind that employed Michael Chabon when he was a student in Pittsburgh.