some kiddie called and wanted to come over to see the room. "i'm living in your room next year." (a slight pang, i think, at the idea of leaving and this becoming someone else's room.) i didn't mind her coming to visit, although i'd have to straighten up the room, but that's not a problem - i ought to clean up anyway it's too cluttered in here. and do the laundry.i walked out to the corner for lunch after this morning's lecture, which was on poe and hawthorne (young goodman brown - what a story!), although i'd gone to class thinking it was on browning and tennyson, and i hadn't wanted to miss tucker on his favourite poets. went into heartwood books on a whim, trusting in serendipity that i'll run into some children's riddle collection or folk tale book that would put it altogether, but inspiration wasn't coming that way and i left with a copy of jeanette winterson's the passion, which i am not reading, not today, not for a long time, i should think. it's a book that disturbs me profoundly, because it probes me at a personal level of - pain and passion.
and i got a mail from eunice! quite taken aback when i saw her mail because we've not seen or heard from each other for - 5 years! and she would have been one of those lost people to me if she hadn't come upon my journal tonight! dear eunice!