At some point before I fail second year, my present philosophy of “self-indulgence good, studying bad” really has to change.
Saturday was lunch at Brick Lane with Russ, where we managed to add to the small but growing body of restaurant staff who hate us for taking too long over meals and talking too much (now established in Paris and London. We gotta do New York and Milan next). Then a couple of hours of conversational reading in the Borders cafe (Russ with design magazines and The Economist, me with Watchmen, Life After God, and re-giggling my way through Anthropology. Conversation: sometimes related to reading material, often completely tangential).
Somewhere around 9 pm, I was reading the copy of The Wire I’d bought for the Matador sampler CD that came with it, was thoroughly overwhelmed at the depths of my music ignorance, and fell asleep. And that was Saturday.
Sunday was Palm Sunday Mass followed by dim sum at Dong Hai in Chinatown (it has an English name that’s so completely different from its Chinese name that I’ve forgotten it, but it’s very good) with Shoop and Esther, where we talked about usual girlie stuff like gossip, hair, and the fundamental theological disagreements between Catholicism and Protestantism.
And then home, and ineffectual attempts at studying, and sleep, and panicked awakening at 9.05, and headlong rushing down the stairs only to find out that The X-Files had been usurped by golf, and then grudging acceptance of the need to study, so contract law and Elgar and Don DeLillo till 3 am. And that was Sunday.
And tomorrow is Yo La Tengo. And Wednesday is a preview screening of Bridget Jones’ Diary. And Thursday is Stephen Malkmus. And May 8 the exams begin.