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My room, with its one window, cannot face both the rise and set of the sun. Looking west, dawn is an inference -- this building's shadow, soft-edged from distance, hemmed in by a bright copper glow, falling straight and level among the trees and vines that tangle thick and riotous above the parking lot. I smelled that new honeysuckle yesterday, but stayed on my bike, rushing to class. Now classes are over.
posted on Saturday, April 29, 2006
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The ant farm is now operational and the residents' behavior is fascinating -- I'm reminded of how our gerbils Hank and Drover used to tunnel through their bedding.
I've been pulling far too many unproductive all-nighters, at least three so far this semester. A brief readdiction to Romancing SaGa 3 and the arrival of five eagerly awaited CDs in the mail have perhaps nurtured that kind of behavior.
posted on Thursday, April 13, 2006
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It occured to me this morning, as rain danced on my hair and shoulders and thunder stuttered like the ripping of a colossal fabric, that the dreary washes of winter are poor preludes to spring storms.
posted on Monday, April 03, 2006
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