January 24, 2005

beauty brain's fabulous fanny

i just popped in to tie back a mess of my gigantic, streaked hair. the color is washing out and i'm slowly getting down to a dull orange and pink rust. i ought to read another couple hundred pages of le morte darthur, but can't bring myself to it. i've been lounging about reading pattern recognition by william gibson, which i picked up, along with a vonnegut, last night in a rushed trip to borders with kat and her new dull friend. well, kat doesn't find him dull, but i have nothing to talk to him about - he makes me feel unsocial. but no more than this book does. it approaches rabbit, run in shiftless melancholy. makes me feel like a bit of a lout, but i'm enjoying the vague mystery of it. makes me want to develop a sense of style - some terribly esoteric pathologies, i'm not sure. i am so emotionally malleable, literature always does this to me, suck me along into the protagonist's mood. every lull, i catch myself falling into some tame fantasy. oh well, perhaps when this is through, i might just break out vurt again. delve deeper into the cyberpunk escapism.

p.s. i am now resolved to think in alliterative couplets, like the title, torn directly from gibson, or the lovely, "alone again, suddenly, in the crepuscular calm of a tokyo taxi." lovely.


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