"and I've heard the sound from my cousin's bed, the hiss of the train at the railway head, always the summers are slipping away"

these hills are still golden to match the weather, but I once again have further responsibilities instead of the air-conditioned lumbering eunni that occupies me when available to not be so responsible-- forgetting the taste of the freeingly-oppressive heat outside and what it makes you want.

the intro lecture to Postmodernist Fiction tonight has promised me and my similarly lit-obsessed friend jaime mental amounts of mind-blowing literary analysis complete with equal amounts Pynchon and Simpsons. she and I obviously think more alike than assumed, as we met in our last lit and registered for this without knowing the other did. plus, we were the only people who openly laughed at his jokes about IKEA and the suburbs.

postmodernist thoughts back to the car and even the suggestion of hinting at discussing Fight Club a few lectures from now and i already feel ashamed of my cluttered life. Luckily, not about the latest score.

epicly, in what I remember to be an unstoppable slow-motion, I ruined my old powerbook g4 last november, making it now a desktop that cannot be unplugged which is upset with you --angry fans heard across a room with the tv going-- if you do much more than look at it. working and summer classes mostly prevented me from spending money with distraction in the first place, but that 16-year-old willpower to save lunch money rather than eat did finish the needed non-spending to afford the new macbook I nearly hyperventilated over last wednesday, just as the foodless lunch periods did the powerbook back in high-school.

so my cluttered life, though needed desperate decluttering in the eyes of its owner, seems to only grow with to-do's and files to sort with these intentions to purge and grunge. only sections of life seem like me.

like the moccasined student, unwashed/thrifted shorts chains cardigan and large thermal sweatshirt over skin that's numbing in 70 degrees of summer night, can't get to the car fast enough straight out of Chemistry attempting an understandable image of unrobbable confidence despite being frozen, but helped by the beaten tan leather messenger bag, practical ponytail half that now falls to pieces, and small laptop inside it's older sister's too large case, depicting her idea of her that maybe others consider too.

I understand that. I see me there. cluttered with practicality and art-- my too requirements.