2001-10-26 | 5:44 p.m.
another beautiful rainy day in a sucession of beautiful rainy days. every morning the sky makes me want to open the blinds wide instead of crawl back into bed. it matches me so much better than the hectic exuberance of sunshine. gray and quiet, holding back with everything before bursting. thunder and lightning. then forgetting. then gray and quiet again.
i didn't get what i wanted. but maybe i got what i need.
i don't like arguing with my father. we're both stubborn as hell and we back each other up into these ridiculous corners where we sputter and fume. and then he comes at me with i win because i'm older and i know more, and i counter with you just invalidated everything i said, i can't argue with you, and then we simmer for a while and then feel silly and it all blows over.
i love the afternoons lately. i make lunch and we sit together at the table, my dad and i. i put some music on the stereo (rimski-korsakov is his absolute favorite, but yesterday we had chopin, and today beethoven), and we have lunch and read our respective books or the newspaper, or sometimes just chat.
i'm loving the james michener. it's not thomas pynchon, and right now i'm thankful for that, just turning pages and getting lost in the story. i don't know how accurate the novel is, historically, but at least it will inspire me to find out.
i don't know what i want, and i think that probably i never will. it's not that easy, is it -- part of being here is never knowing. negative capability, negative capability -- i miss reading keats. it's been a while. i don't like that it's been a while.
i found this yellow legal pad in a pile of stuff yesterday. all these notes from the first half of freshman year. the beginning of a keats essay for prof. sharp, addresses of clubs in columbus, outline of the religion midterm and a note to go study in the library with natalie and this hour on this day . . .
the doorways of buildings must be covered in brown leaves and the orange wings of japanese potato beetles now, in gambier.
