i have a date in just over two hours. he has a beautiful name and a beautiful face. he reads beautiful books. i'm nervous, but i'm not. i'm concerned, but not. i'm feeling ugly, but not. i think i need a haircut and some different clothes (so bored with these ones). but nothing matters that much. i'm just creating drama because it's easier to think about these things than what's happening in Tunisia, or Queensland, or my academic career (if there ever was one).
it's grey outside. drizzle all day. pleuve is like pleure. rain is like tears. and in learning french i surprise myself by finding such similarities between new words, new and old words, or between the sound (the word spoken) and the thing it represents. but i guess language has only ever been an ocean of metaphor.
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