You know the feeling you get that's just a contented sort of daze that you grin fuzzily at until you either wake up or fall asleep? Mum bought me some new paper and ink for school: D Yes, I know that sounds odd to the general public, but . . . the feel of a blank sheet of paper! opening a new bottle of ink! The smoothness of writing with new ink on fresh paper with a good fountain pen is not to be slightingly thought of. Yeah, I'm sorry but these blogs don't cut it for me: )

Of course, I'm here typing about it, aren't I? How ironic. I can't use them tonight because my pen is already full of ink and the pages of my notebook are covered with the scattered pencil markings I made during Class tonight. I'll give the whole kit a purification rite of a weekend and then start afresh.

it is the coolest thing to go downstairs in the dark and see through the window a hazelnut grove with the wind ruffling the leaves like I did Joel's hair. Only the wind in the grove is like a child the same way Tom is--really as old as the hills, but there is a wildness born of long sustained innocence that you can see in their eyes. The eyes of the wind; now that sounds poetic. It is the same way that Merlin was in That Hideous Strength. I saw it in the intelligent eyes of a reptile once, and then in the curve of Ramone's back as he leapt to the window sill. This is beginning to sound silly, but I can't think of another way to explain it: ) You know what I mean, tho, right?

sigur ros' untitled album is the best . . . too good, in fact. I'm getting tired. And I have to Write some People tomorrow . . . anybody wants to meet me for caffe I'll be There in the Morning and right before Class.

"A pleasure is full grown only when it is remembered." csL