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You know it's working cos I start writing in alliteration: "the perverse property of particular populations," fuck.
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So I got back to Vassar and got ripped off by the cabbie but I'm thinking of it as a holiday tip that he gave himself and I left my hat on the train which makes me the saddest little boy ever and I think I might actually call the train station and desperately/futilely try to get them to scoop it up and send it to me. Huge cup of coffee from the deli is working its magic as evidenced by mounting but almost pleasant anxiety and a complete lack of proper sentence structure. Speaking of, Murray called my Plato paper 'excellent, lucid, and thorough' which was a nice thing to come home to. Speaking of home, I still need to finish packing my room and throw all my shit in the car and drive home.


Also:

Tonight is the solstice. I hope that all of you who observe it have a very good one. Maybe if I take a nap beforehand I will actually stay up all night to tend to the birth. I miss being observant.
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You will all be pleased to learn that after a 2 hour long break (how did that happen) I am returning to the final stretch of my by-now-voluminious yet still tight paper.

Also man there are all these thoughts percolating once my brain can run free again. I was reading Amber Hollibaugh tonight for my paper and was struck, for the nth time, by how instrumental the writings of sex-radical femmes has been to the development of my queer subjectivity, my imagination. Then I remembered something Paige had said about the dirth of butch writings and realized a lot of things that I don't want to get into right now, except to say that I still have very distinct sense-memory of my confusion 3 or 4 years ago...'Wait, I am really really attracted to butches...' and find it interesting that butch/femme both gave me a language to articulate my desires and circumscribed what I could imagine as possible.

sturdiness.

Oh damn, "Am I Blue For You?" just came on and I'm pretty sure this is the 6th time I've listened to it today.
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Is there a word that means, "Every time I sit down to do work I am overwhelmed with a low-grade depression and generalized somatic anxiety, both of which greatly impede my ability to get said work started nevermind done"? Because yeah.

Maybe I should stretch or make a prayer or put 4 drops of Rescue Remedy under my tongue. This is kind of absurd and needs to stop.

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