Monday, May 12, 2008
Showering at the Rec Sunday morning, I spied a roach the size of my palm climbing along the wall... toward my towel. I pulled the towel back from the wall and observed Gregor creep around the wall and out of sight, presumably to return to his nest to tell all his friends he saw me naked. I made a mental note that Gregor should be destroyed if we would again encounter each other, but not in seriousness; a roach that size would easily hold me in a headlock. As I stepped out, I looked around to determine Gregor's whereabouts, to dissuade him of any notion he might have that, because I spared his life the first time we met, we were then friends, and he might, hiding in my backpack, accompany me back to the Lauree Lair.
Gregor had, in fact, crept underneath the overhang of the door opening out of the shower, presumably to leap onto my head as I exited. This I managed to avoid, as I saw him first. I dressed quickly, since I had forgotten to bring Rodrigo, my boxcutter.
I meant to begin this with my thoughts on Romans 7, but no one would find them worth reading.
Oooohhh... kitties!
Labels: backpack, boxcutter, cockroach, Gregor, kitties, Romans 7, showering, student recreation, The Lauree Lair, towel
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:39 PM]
We Are Never Out Of It
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
This morning the rain beat thunderously loud on the pool roof, which, relievedly, drowned out the pop music station enough that I could kickboard along to my own imagination for once. The noise made me consider whether a nuke might have dropped; this then led to what I might do after nuclear fallout. Ere I paddled along, I glanced over at the other swimmers and wondered, if we were the only people on the planet to survive, which of us would be eaten first. I figured the tall bald guy would be first to get roasted, then perhaps the Asian.
I emerged from the pool and showered in disappointment that the bomb hasn't dropped yet.
Too tired after a three-hour workout to do anything else, afterward I read Doctor Faustus for German class for about three hours, sat through class (watching scenes from a production of The Ring Cycle and trying to pick out the German), then napped. Now I am at the coffee shop, pretending I am doing something dreadfully important. I might return to the Lair to cuddle with Kermie, for whom I never have to pretend anything.
Labels: bombs, coffee shop, Dr. Faustus, German, Kermit the Frog, kickboarding, nuclear fallout, pretending, rain, sleep, swimming, The Lauree Lair, The Ring Cycle, working out
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:20 PM]
Bob Dylan Is Not A Crazy Old Man
Thursday, March 27, 2008
In an advising session with Dr. Lavigne this afternoon, he mentioned, after I decide which graduate school to attend, he would take me aside for a "send-off". I worry this means he's going to break a liquor bottle across my side. I would almost rather have a sex talk with my dad. Normally, the "send-off" occurs between Dr. Larmour and the graduate students who are leaving the University for a PhD program somewhere. Being yet an undergrad, I get Avril, but I might put in a request that Dr. Larmour be present.
The shifts I work at Fuddruckers only last between three and six hours, nights, which makes this the cakewalk job I had hoped it would be. A tire blowing out on my tank, however, complicates transportation from (I catch the bus to) Fuddruckers to The Lair, which is about four miles away. The walk takes forever, but I still arrive at The Lair with time enough to work for a little bit before bedtime.
Labels: advising, Bob Dylan, car, Fuddruckers, grad school, senility, The Lauree Lair, transportation, walking, working
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:43 PM]
We May Not Awaken You
Sunday, March 02, 2008
In lieu of preparing for exams and catching up on sundry coursework assignments, I spent the past three days sleeping, working out, and reading Benjamin. I also applied for a few jobs.
Now my tummy hurts. I may return to the Lair (from the coffee shop) earlier than I had intended, for the purpose of conducting a drug-induced sleeping expedition. Last night's sleeping expedition did not fare well- the wind howled against the building without relent; Kermie and I cuddled the tighter, but never settled into the comfort of full slumber.
Nevertheless, despite feeling extremely alert this morning, I managed to avoid reading Plato's Apology. I ate breakfast and somehow felt accomplished enough.
Lubbock winds tarnish everything, to include the shoes, encrusted with wind-blown dirt, that I threw out this afternoon on account of their over-worn condition. Ow. Sleep.
Labels: breakfast, coffee shop, dirt, job searching, Kermit the Frog, Lubbock, Plato, reading, shoes, sleep, tests, The Apology, The Lauree Lair, Walter Benjamin, wind, working out
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:55 PM]