This weekend I helped C the subletter move some of her things into her new place in preperation for C the roommate's return this evening. The cats have been confused all summer long. It's been cold. They're used to it. Bothways. All the moving around inspired me to reorganize my room, which makes it sound like I'm thirteen, so maybe I'll call it my space which is a little bit more sophisticated but again takes us back to something else. It's not my apartment so I can't call it that. I got it: my bedroom, which isn't exactly true, since my bed is in the closet, but it's close enough. My office / sitting room / cat palace. Who cares. Anyway, I moved stuff around from four in the afternoon on Saturday until two o'clock in the afternoon the next day.

It was a total waste of time. Friend S suggested that it was theraputic in the sense that it fulfilled a need to destroy something. Mm. Maybe. But I pretty much put everything back where I found it, coming to the realization that it had gotten it right the first time around. Anyway, in the process I did some mega cleaning and found this piece of paper, written when I was nineteen and fresh off the plane in Japan (click to enlarge to read):

In more current discoveries, I've been really enjoying the new Mount Kimbie album "Crooks & Lovers." This song is my favorite thus far but it's all nice. That, and the new Joanna Newsom album, which came out four or five months ago, where it's taken me this long to listen to the three discs enough to get to know it as something other than homework. Such an amazing writer she is. Okay. The sun is out and I need to go where they pay me. Tomorrow is the last day of the semester. Ya.