sporadic fulfilment

midterms are next week & we're supposed to apply to the courses we want for next semester the week after. time only seems slow when you are living it. i have a backlog of assignments & projects that i'm attempting to finish all lastminutely. is life postschool like this at all? i still haven't gone to see 'corpse bride' because the last screening, at 9pm, isn't late enough for me. maybe i'll see it at some second-run theatre when i've rejoined 'sivilisation.' normally i don't mind staying in, it's when the confinement is enforced by crappy weather & nothing being open that i break out the self-pity & liquor. (bombay sapphire isn't too bad if it's watered down 1:1 with lemongrass cordial.) there's actually a nice old graveyard with a climbable fence 2 minutes away that's perfect for waifing about in if one doesn't mind the Historical Information plaques & sounds from the infrequent passing car spoiling the mood. & there's the harbour itself of course, scrupulously clean, well lit, & picturesque [i'm growing to truly despise that word] but one can still weep there & mayhaps even fling oneself to messy death on the rocks below if one takes a running leap from the top of a restaurant or summat... then there's always drowning, which is very ophelia-like & romantic (until putrefaction sets in) if enough flowers can be strewn about to decorate the wavelets. the seagulls -- & they're fuckin' huge -- will probably get at one's eyes first, though. so, no death for me tonight. back to work; after all, what's Art without a little Suffering?