crazy shade of winter
well it is here, if you must know. yes we're going through the motions of dry-cleaning coats, pulling out the woollen hats and getting used to the blasted heat inside the buildings. oh what excitement.
in stories that haven't been told so far:
the vanasson had her marxist beau over from sweden. he wore a corduroy coat, spoke a british syntax trimmed with swedish accent, ate middle-eastern food, called giddens names, made bland salmon dinner, romanced loudly, laughed like that cackly-shrieky ex-girlfriend of chandler's, didn't have eyes like mats wilander, or smile, and was sad that the subaltern studies guys had moved on from marxism.
so.
i survived without losing my temper. vanasson of course might have lost her heart.
oh and M.Yuri and i found his t-shirt in the kitchen while rummaging for food one friday afternoon. she giggled and behaved. i giggled and told the story. many times over.
speaking of the SS club, DC-Babu (the preferred title, i hear) assigned the other of the obnoxious Cambridge scholars for reading. i didn't recover from the readings in time for the class so what i presented was limp and vapid to say the least and it showed. mostly on everyone's faces.
it took a looooooooong bus-ride of cajoling myself into believing that i don't do their business and so should reclaim and maintain my rightful place as persona nongrata. if i drive myself to hard about this course i will soon be...excuse the pun...history.
my hanif is not well. the world looks faded, when not told through her lenses.....ouch that was unintended...and i can't wait for her to be back in the boomsian groove again.
well it is here, if you must know. yes we're going through the motions of dry-cleaning coats, pulling out the woollen hats and getting used to the blasted heat inside the buildings. oh what excitement.
in stories that haven't been told so far:
the vanasson had her marxist beau over from sweden. he wore a corduroy coat, spoke a british syntax trimmed with swedish accent, ate middle-eastern food, called giddens names, made bland salmon dinner, romanced loudly, laughed like that cackly-shrieky ex-girlfriend of chandler's, didn't have eyes like mats wilander, or smile, and was sad that the subaltern studies guys had moved on from marxism.
so.
i survived without losing my temper. vanasson of course might have lost her heart.
oh and M.Yuri and i found his t-shirt in the kitchen while rummaging for food one friday afternoon. she giggled and behaved. i giggled and told the story. many times over.
speaking of the SS club, DC-Babu (the preferred title, i hear) assigned the other of the obnoxious Cambridge scholars for reading. i didn't recover from the readings in time for the class so what i presented was limp and vapid to say the least and it showed. mostly on everyone's faces.
it took a looooooooong bus-ride of cajoling myself into believing that i don't do their business and so should reclaim and maintain my rightful place as persona nongrata. if i drive myself to hard about this course i will soon be...excuse the pun...history.
my hanif is not well. the world looks faded, when not told through her lenses.....ouch that was unintended...and i can't wait for her to be back in the boomsian groove again.
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