free from the clutches of poseidon
2005-07-10

Back from the beach with a lovely tan on my front, and blotchy peeling skin on my back, and five extra pounds of PURE CALORIC VALUE OF ALCOHOL on my belly. The Outer Banks are a lovely place, and I had the pleasure of spending a week with wonderful people who let me into their conversations despite the fact that most of them knew me from seeing me once at a party. And I also got to sleep in a hammock and swim in the sea and read [i]A Year in Provence[/i]. The last thing is not actually something special that I got to do, though. It's just something I did. I heard Peter Mayle really, really likes Provence. But maybe it was just a terrible lie. TRUFFLES.

I am having a life crisis, because I was deeply interested in a conversation about digital law, which really should be the most boring subject in the world. I also read my friend's law books while she is making me drinks? Does that mean I should become a lawyer?

This is obviously one of those things like in "Your Body and You!" type books where a young man frets that he is gay because he touched his friend's penis, but he is not gay at all, just experimenting which is totally normal! Only in this case I wouldn't catch Teh Gay Germs but instead go to school and delude myself into thinking I am going to get a lot of money.

That was the lamest metaphor ever. Like a horse with three broken legs. Oooh I just can't stop myself today!

I'd say it in email but I can no longer access most of the parts of Diaryland for some reason, so, pollymagoo, glad you are safe - hope you are doing all right.