Currently listening to: Shostakovich: Twenty-four Preludes and Fugues

[This comes in
two
installments
because: 1) I am not
finished; 2) I should be
working; 3) I need to
sleep; 4) you probably
wouldn't read something
so long, anyway.]


This is not supposed to be poetry,
just poetic.
Nothing has been prosaic lately;
reading too much poetry
warps your thinking
just a
bit--
and I'm not sure that it's a bad thing, only
it gets a little weird when even your science
problems are poetic.


Yesterday dissolved.
And last week too,
for that matter--or
lack thereof.
I cannot account for this,
even though it was
my responsibility.


When you come up
from the metro station
at Place-des-Arts, there is a
flowerbed of Trifolium,
and half of it is
quadru-petaled.
Before first frost,
I will steal into the night,
trowel in-hand,
and steal some retarded clover,
so that I can grow a pot of
luck in my bedroom.


Yesterday my mom was
telling me about the things going on
in her life,
as she does,
now that I'm so much less involved in it.
She told me about a friend of hers,
a woman of about eighty
whom I've known most of my life.

Her fifty-something year-old
son
had committed suicide
just the day before.
She had found out from her
daughter-in-law,
who was in hysterics, and
could only speak
with coherence for five minutes.

And so my mom was making brownies.
She said it was a special batch
she makes for funerals.
And so my mom was going to help
the shattered family,
still in shock, with sustenance
(for really, what is harder when confronted with death?--
especially when it is something chosen, rather than inflicted);
she had already stopped by
and ordered a full dinner
for five
(for the siblings had been called home)
to be delivered the next day.

It was thoughtless; it was
'the least I could do;' it was
'all I can do, really.'
Maybe it was automatic,
bred out of bearing witness
to too many other deaths, but
even if that's so,
I don't think that diminishes
anything.

I've learned a little about
myself, and about
my mother; about how I've
thought of her, and about how I
think of her.

I'm not sure I've ever been
quite so proud
to be my mother's son.


I'm convinced
I have some of the best
friends in the world.
I only wish
more of them lived
closer, so that
love wouldn't cost
postage.

edwardlangstone

I've had a long day.  Just walking to school tires me out.  Every day for me starts at 8:30, and today once I emerged at 6 from my one-hour-overtime lab, I had to go immediately to represent the McGill Classical Music Club at Activities' Night in Shatener.

So I got home after 7 and ate and got ready for bed.  The only reason I'm still awake is that I'm not supposed to take my antibiotics for another hour.

Despite me telling my roommate that I didn't want people over late on school nights, despite telling him that one of the biggest effects of mononucleosis is fatigue, there have still been people in my apartment the past two nights, keeping me awake well into the night.  (They didn't go to bed last night until 2:30am, guess how I know that?)

When I got home today I texted that egregious douchebag stating clearly that I was going to bed early tonight and didn't want anybody over.

He just came home with his friend, and now they're watching YouTube videos.  I try to talk to him about this, and am completely ignored, as if I don't exist.  I can't help but think of murder.

I thought I was moving in with an okay guy.  Once again, I am proven to be an incredibly poor judge of character.

edwardlangstone

Currently listening to: Schumann: Piano Sonata No.2

So I'm comin' back to university and I'm feeling okay and then

W'BAM  I have mononucleosis

W'BAM  I have a co-infection (really nasty, I'm taking penicillin for it)

W'BAM  I now have classes to catch up on

W'BAM  I have lots of club responsibilites ahead-of and during Activites' Nights (Mon & Tues)

W'BAM  I have labs on both Monday and Tuesday

W'BAM  I still have no personal workspace at home

W'BAM  My roommate continues to have his friends over every day.

K.O.

On the upside this comic by the lovely and talented Peter Chiykowski of Rock, Paper, Cynic never ceases to make me laugh no matter how many times I ready it:

edwardlangstone

Currently listening to: Sibelius: Spring Song

When checking my email during my math tutorial yesterday, I discovered that I had been accepted into the Microbiology & Immunology program that I want to be in.  I was overjoyed, but also a little confused, since my average at present is considerably lower than the requirement (thanks, calculus + physics).  It seemed too good to be true, but whatever, I had gotten in.

When I checked my email later that evening, I discovered another email from the microbiology department.  “Correction,” it was titled.  “Dear Edward, We regret to inform you…”

Lesson: if it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Some distractions:

Do you find your DDR experience lacking?  Maybe you'd prefer to be torched every time you fuck up.

Japanese television will never cease to shock me.

Some fun facts about orgasms.

Freeman Dyson is a very interesting man, and the depth of his thought and creativity is awe-inspiring.

edwardlangstone

Currently listening to: Beethoven: Violin Sonata No.9, 'Kreutzer'

I think I'm making a new friend.  A lasting one, I mean.  I like to think that I've already made some this year, but this is only the second time in my life I can recall forming such a significant bond with someone so quickly.  But who knows, maybe I've spoken too soon and jinxed things, and it will all come to nothing.

I've recently fallen in love with the Shostakovich string quartets.  Until last week, I had only ever heard one of them on the radio, and it hadn't been particularly well-performed.  I've even gone the unusual step of purchasing them.  I got a ~$90 box set by the Emerson String Quartet for $45 on eBay.

This video has recently gone viral, and my mom infected me this morning, just after I had read a Rex Murphy column about it.  That woman, Susan Boyle, is such a beautiful person.  While she shines all the more brightly when contrasted with the ugly people at the judges' bench and in the crowd, I still wish the contrast weren't there.  She deserved better from the start.