Oui, je t'aime, ne me quitte pas.

I think snow makes me crazy. Like crazy where I'm jittery and anxious mixed with sleepy depression feelings of crawling into bed. I've been this way all day while working. I can't focus more than ten seconds. I've already walked away from the computer twice while attempting to type this.

My shoes came today. All but one pair fits, so I need to return them, but they were the least necessary of the bunch. Not bad. I love all of them. Even the bright orange sneakers that DYA said they remind her of kids who ride the special bus to the special school. But these orange shoes are kangaROOS with a special pocket that's about large enough to hold a special quarter which I can use to call home and get a ride after getting beat up for wearing special orange shoes. She also wants to dirty or scuff them all up, but I like them all looking a bit pristine. They're currently on display on top of their respective show boxes, strewn about the....what's that room called? The center room? It's too big to be a foyer, even though it's where the front door is. The spiritual room? The sitting room? Anyway, that's where my shoes are.

I just had to switch out my crazy jazz Mahler music, that was making me more spastic.

I just started reading this bizarre book that I'm in love with: Boris Vian's Foam Of the Daze. It takes place in New Orleans, and I wish I could read it fast enough and send it home with thebrownhornet, who I get to see in person tomorrow. Twice even. Once for breakfast, then later on at dinner with some other fabulous people I've been missing, like vfc and Miss Rook.

Of course what I should be reading is Henry James's Daisy Miller for my critical paper, but after finishing The Plague I wanted something more quirky and lively. Stoic well-crafted narratives are nice and all, but they don't get me hard. Ok, well sometimes they do, which is why I get all obsessed with Proust and ordered a differently translated version of his insane novel which I'll probably never finish reading even though I'm including his long sentences in my paper, because I love long sentences except for when I find them self-indulgent and even then I wonder if it's just intellectual envy. Um, I'm going to stop writing about this now.

Back to work. And for right now, by "work", I mean watching Alias.