Why do I wake up at 7am on a Saturday? Especially when I went to bed at 1am? Especially when the day stretches out before me, weird and empty? So annoying. When it happens, I usually try to go back to sleep, fail, get up and put music on, potter around, fold some clothes, take photos out my window, then go to the pc bang.
Today I thought I was going on a day trip to some lake with JD Whatever, Steph and maybe some other girls. But JD had weirdly disappeared... So, I dunno. Maybe later if he doesn't call, I'll go hang out with Steph. Anyways.
When My Dearest Charlie was here, he read a book. It was The Plague, by Albert Camus. He'd actually started it long ago, and one of the first best memories (and photos) I have of him is him sitting quietly at my place in Eltham reading it while I hurried about, preparing to depart. Anyways, KP kindly leant her copy to him as he was heading to the airport to visit me, and when he finished it, he kindly left it behind for me.
Everyone seems to agree it is a brilliant book, and I really wanted to read it, but Dad cautioned me to wait until the lament of Charlie's departure had eased. So after a pause, I started reading it. Most way through now and golly, genius. And yeah, beautiful. And some humour. So many quotable, all the stuff about love, especially. And ideas put some simply ::
" The evil that is in the world always comes of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence, if they lack understanding."
On my way here I noticed all the flags on the lamp-posts. Another series of demonstrations of nationalism. Hmm. I feel so removed from it. When I was in Lithuania I felt so much more connected to these happenings, cos I was studying cultural anthropology and ethno-nationalism. But here, I understand less.
Lyrics for the morning come courtesy of The Shins, and my brother Jack, who gave me the CD ::
Eyeless in the morning sun you were
Pale and mild, a modern girl
Taken with thought, still prone to care
Makin tea in your underwear