I have always wondered what kind of people actually took poetry audio-books and actually listened to them, and I found the answer in my own iTunes playlist. John Updike's "An Oddly Lovely Day Alone", Jimmy Santiago Baca's "I Am Offering You This Poem", and David Ignatow's "The World Is So Difficult To Give Up..." are on the top of the list (not counting Tolkien, of course).

And my first edition hardback of "The Dark Tower" (C.S. Lewis, ed. Walter Hooper) came yesterday! I carry it around the house with me as I work and beam fondly at it every few minutes.

And I've had an oddly lovely day alone today. The repetition, pattern, and rhythm of daily chores are somehow comforting. The feel of things, the smell of things, the way light reflects off of things as the sun sets . . . Very S of me, really. Mondays seem to do that to me, for some mysterious and unexplained reason.

My room is as predicted, ready for studying and muddling and humming over things, but as it is a Monday I'm not sure if I should be allowed to get anything done, really. Tomorrow I'll be up early and ready to take a liberty stand with my leather portfolio in one arm and a cappuccino (how does one spell that, anyway?) held high, marching decisively into the computer lab and getting a lot of Things done. But today, today, today I don't really want to be anywhere but where I am.