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And the sign said the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls...
It's amazing how much my posting rate goes up when I have interesting-to-me non-angst-based things to write about.
Today's Odd Thing that I forgot to mention earlier: In the Arts block women's toilets, end left stall, there is a sticker. Someone has, at some point, tried to remove this sticker, but it shredded, leaving glued-on paper residue.
On this paper, three words are written.
In my handwriting.
They've been there about nine years now.
Other graffiti has come and gone - in the long tradition of university toilets, scurrilous toilet humour regularly shares space with grand ideological battles and simple exclamations of raw emotion on the toilet walls. (My current favourite: Reid Library, first floor, women's toilets, right-hand stall: Fuck comp.sci deadlines and segfaults.) Periodically the walls are scrubbed blank, and then the conversations start anew. (Another favourite: a warning against toilet vampires having been seen in the area.)
Somehow, those three words - a remnant of an ideological fervour I outgrew not long afterwards - have remained.
I am not sure what to draw from this, really.
Meanwhile, for vague reference, today's book tally:
Bought:
History course reader (well, ordered; they'd sold out)
Dear Fatty, by Dawn French
Borrowed (Reid Library):
A History of European Socialism (Lindemann, 1983)
Scottish Harbors (Morris, 1983)
The History and Archaeology of Ports (Jackson, 1983)
I'm not sure why they're all from 1983.
The three borrowed books are vague pre-reading, trying angles in search of a topic for the 4,500 word research essay I have to write by the 20th of May. Perhaps something on the ideological movements of the Industrial Revolution, perhaps something on the effects on and of trade both domestic and overseas... Perhaps nothing related to any of this, but I live with the belief that no knowledge gained is worthless.
Today's Odd Thing that I forgot to mention earlier: In the Arts block women's toilets, end left stall, there is a sticker. Someone has, at some point, tried to remove this sticker, but it shredded, leaving glued-on paper residue.
On this paper, three words are written.
In my handwriting.
They've been there about nine years now.
Other graffiti has come and gone - in the long tradition of university toilets, scurrilous toilet humour regularly shares space with grand ideological battles and simple exclamations of raw emotion on the toilet walls. (My current favourite: Reid Library, first floor, women's toilets, right-hand stall: Fuck comp.sci deadlines and segfaults.) Periodically the walls are scrubbed blank, and then the conversations start anew. (Another favourite: a warning against toilet vampires having been seen in the area.)
Somehow, those three words - a remnant of an ideological fervour I outgrew not long afterwards - have remained.
I am not sure what to draw from this, really.
Meanwhile, for vague reference, today's book tally:
Bought:
History course reader (well, ordered; they'd sold out)
Dear Fatty, by Dawn French
Borrowed (Reid Library):
A History of European Socialism (Lindemann, 1983)
Scottish Harbors (Morris, 1983)
The History and Archaeology of Ports (Jackson, 1983)
I'm not sure why they're all from 1983.
The three borrowed books are vague pre-reading, trying angles in search of a topic for the 4,500 word research essay I have to write by the 20th of May. Perhaps something on the ideological movements of the Industrial Revolution, perhaps something on the effects on and of trade both domestic and overseas... Perhaps nothing related to any of this, but I live with the belief that no knowledge gained is worthless.