and touches with her hand the summer trees,
perhaps you'll understand what memories I own.
There's a dance pavilion in the rain all shuttered down,
a winding country lane all russet brown,
a frosty window pane shows me a town grown lonely.
That spring of ours that started so April-hearted,
seemed made for just a boy and girl.
I never dreamed, did you, any fall would come in view
so early, early.
Darling if you care, please, let me know,
I'll meet you anywhere, I miss you so.
Let's never have to share another early autumn.
-Camus
Sometimes I feel exactly like that.
Those stars [points up to the sky] have NOTHING to do with us! [seething. Didn't you always know?]
Other times, the red glow against the mountains facing Memorial Hill, the stars, dawn from above the clouds in an airplane, gradations of icy blue up to outer space itself--above all, the silence--I feel like I'm nothing, or just eyes. It's cold, and it's alone, but even at night there's a strange feeling of seeing everything, and I feel like I don't know or want to know anything human.
-Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine
And at present these notions have just been stirred up in him, as in a dream...
The next time I say "interesting", I'm lying.
Man C: [To man A] Have you seen Al Gore's movie?
A: Yes!
B: It's a very good movie, you know, I think he's got a very good message.
A: It's just amazing, all the ways we impact our environment without even knowing--
C: My philosophy is that if you don't know what you are doing, stop, and look around.
[while lunching on styrofoam trays; there are plastic ones too, and no, they don't have to wash them themselves]
between these armchair-politico (is there any other kind?) discussions and my supervisor's personal philosophies on everything from macroeconomics to writing letters to buttoning jackets--and they are all his "personal philosophy"--it's like I'm stuck in a neo-Dickenisian novella populated by unattractive and hoary old men, which I suppose makes me the hollow-eyed ward. Let's hope things don't end so mediocre, although, this does explain those times when I find myself focusing on the incurvations of ignominous lab bench stains for a solid 20 minutes, waiting for the centrifuge dial to tick down the seconds...
I don't know, I don't think I want to be a lab bench PhD.
Tongue's fine. Cat's got my brain.
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ckincaid10- ckincaid10
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