ritornerai, lo so, ritornerai!

11.11.03 @ 4:01 p.m.

I hear tell of the Department of Defense looking to hire draft boards again, "just in case" though they took the site down as soon as they started getting media coverage. Fridgemagnet's blog has a link to a mirror site. Sucks to be a young American male right now, I'd say. My second thought on that was "Ha, now I'll be having dreams about marrying my male friends to save them from the draft rather than saving them from psycho suitors." I think my mind is there because this morning I had a quite unexpected dream where I was sitting next to a girl in class who I knew was supposed to be Liz though we've never met (how is it I dream mostly about the people I've never actually met?) and I kept elbowing her and pointing to the guy in front of me, who happened to be Who Boy Nick and saying "That's him!" Utterly ridiculous as it is, I faintly hoped it was a nice little portent and I'd see him today. Didn't.

I blame it on a couple of things. One is that I spent a lot of time last night being charmed/amused by the thread on the NaNoWriMo message boards where a girl asked how guys knew when a girl was interested. The almost unanimous answer was "What makes you think we can tell? We're totally clueless." The only other answer was "All girls are interested in me, that's how I tell." One or two people listed off noticed girl flirting technique, wome of which makes me feel less stalkeristic when it comes to the Who Boy... things like placing yourself where you're more likely to be seen. Which I've mostly given up as a lost cause. The other thing was the complicated miasma of relationships between E*'s friends, which I only know very vaguely. This guy David that has been talked about SO DAMN MUCH by E* apparently lives on the block kitty-corner to our house. E* seems to have had a bit of a thing for him last year, but now is over it (maybe) but still goes all weird about seeing him. Her practically best-friend Roxy also had weirdness with David, but this weirdness must have involved sex, because last night the talk turned to missed periods. (!) So I told E* that there was this guy who rides the bus with me from our stop on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and I've arbitrarily decided to mentally label him as David. She was shocked, then described her David and it would appear I am right, which she could not get over last night. I'm also told he knows which house she lives in, so since he's likely seen me coming out of my house to catch the bus, he probably knows I'm her roommate. Not that that means anything to me, but E* is amused/preoccupied with it. Oh, and E* is pouty that she's never seen Who Boy, which I counter with "I've hardly seen him."

On the Guiseppe-weirdness front, I, ah, was passive-agressively rude by deliberately not taking my usual seat, though I only sat one apart from him. He ended up next to Chelsea, who is, I have to say, a bit of a twittery idiot. We also watched a whole bunch of Pane e Tulipani today, and Pelin came in all alarmed because Guiseppe had fast forwarded to the place where we left off last time (after Chris, who teaches the class before ours, started the DVD over for our benefit) and we ended up farther in the movie than Pelin wanted us to be. We all had to get in groups to write about what Rosalba (the main character) would do next (we're practicing future tense, can you tell?) and pretty much every single person wrote that she will stay in Venice and meet a nice younger man because her husband is a jackass. Then (ha ha) we sang an Italian song where a woman was entreated to return to the singer. ("Ritornerai...") Actually, now that I translate it it's a bit of self delusion, because that verb is "You will return." And the song talks about how when she gets lonely with her liberty, she'll return and everything will be the same again. Haha. We were told this is what the jackass husband would be doing. "Mimmo canter�!" Mimmo will sing! The whole class sang too on our third listen, giggling madly. And Pelin blatherd in Italian a bit about how she loves Paul Simon.

(My parents went to see Simon and Garfunkel without me... I could play at being put out about missing a big rock event, but I don't like them enough to have warranted spending all that money.)

Um. Anything else? I skipped out on seeing the GTFs for journalism today but will go on Thursday. Valid excuse: I forgot to bring the project I need to discuss with them with me to school. Also, no class except journalism on Thursdays, but Tuesdays mean Italian a scant half hour after I leave Allen Hall.

For now, I'm going to lie on the couch and read a Stephen King story out of Night Shift. It was very odd to read a pre-Stand story dealing with an organically formed "Captain Trips". God, is depopulation by disease popular. I feel so hacky in my own story. But really the method doesn't matter so much as the actual depopulation and the amount of fun I had writing the four thousand word prologue about the Army of the Free, which could have it's own novel, I wrote such dense summary.

Otherwise, I'm totally locked up on Traveler and have resorted to flashing back to the death of Celste's brothers and grandfather. Unfortunately, their going to die before they develop any real personality and that makes me a little sad. Hell, May is only there for a little bit and she's got more venom in her than a poisonous snake. How is anyone supposed to sympathize with the death of a pair (trio, really) of amorphous blobs? Drat. I hope this is just a Week of Fatigue thing and that the 'write less than a thousand words every night' trend is going to shake off soon.

<< � >>

Previously

fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05