daddy rolling stone
12.05.04 @ 12:25 a.m.
I have the title song stuck in my head and have ever since, uh, well, I'd say "this morning" but I didn't wake up until 12:30 and then stayed in bed until 2 finishing a book. And I didn't listen to music until after I had eaten, showered, and dressed, which brings us to 4 PM. But hey! It's twelve thirty! Guess where I am! The Library!
I've been here since six, rather amazingly, reading about eight different biographies of St. Brigid/Brigit/Briget/Bride of Kildare and three or four books on Celtic mythology which either say "Hey, too bad Goddess Brighid and St. Brigid get mixed up all the time, eh? Probably because her abbey is built approximately where the druidic shrine used to be! Crazy, no?" or "Guh, there was no St. Brigid, the horrible Catholics just coopted our lovely pagan goddess, the bastards."
This, to pump out my ten page paper on the syncretism (maybe) of Christianity and paganism in Ireland, as exemplified by St. Brigid. (The computer I'm using is so nasty. The keys stick, there is a grease smudge on the screen, and the keys feel oily. Effing public terminals. I'm just so weirdly happy about being in the library in the middle of the night.) I've got a great source in this one book by a priest named Delehaye in which he gets all huffy about people claiming that the cults of the saints are basically Jesused-up versions of Greco-Roman gods and demigods. The guy seriously has his panties in a bunch and you can easily see it in his writing. He gets SO MAD and doesn't allow for any middle ground or compromise. It's actually a lot like how I used to write Philosophy papers: doesn't matter what you believe, just pick the opposing view of the work you're analyzing and go nuts on it. And I generally did pretty well. The problem is that I need this book, because my wrist will fall off if I try to hand copy bits I like and I'm not putting that much change in the copier. The circulation desk closed at seven, so I'm going to have to come back in the early morning (so I have lots of time to write the actual paper, due Monday) and check it out.
I am so totally awake. And hungry. Damn, almost nothing is open. Even Taco Bell's drive through will close before I get to one. I guess I'll be having some Ramen when I get home. I am seriously just wiiiiiide awake. Maybe one of the FIVE BAJILLION DARIMARTS in this town is open--There are two within five blocks east and west of my new apartment, seriously. I want some pepsi or something, I feel perversely like staying up all night long, or maybe 'til the sun comes up.
I feel like this writing is coming off like the fast paced words of a cocaine user or something. It may not be apparent that my inner monologue is moving really, really quickly.
Jesus, I should go. It's not like I don't have internet at home still. And I could watch TV (read: a tape or DVD, nothing on at this hour except "CAN'T SLEEP? MAYBE YOU SHOULD VISIT MATTRESS LAND!" with the terrible adult contemporary station playing.) And eat.
I love being noturnal, maybe more than I should.
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
