come on within
Also, I got my hair chopped last week. See visual representation.

I'm re-reading Foucault's History of Sexuality: An Introduction, and I must say, embarrassing or not, I derive a great deal of pleasure from reading postmodern theory. It stretches my brain in some ways that feel good. I particularly like talking through it with people, trying to parse complicated bits or explain sections.

I'm settling into a routine, finally, which I've really needed all summer. Also, the rain has stopped, so I may go to the swimming pool one million times. I went to Half-Price Books after dinner with inangkor, picked up a few things. I've been reading a lot. The books don't feel insurmountable lately. Foucault, and I just read Beloved because I felt like I probably should read some Toni Morrison at some point in my life, and I had that paperback. Faster read than I thought it would be, finished it on the way to and from campus on the bus over the past week.

Earlier today, there were a bunch of ripped dudes preening on the landing, and I was really confused, until I realized they were my new neighbor's movers, which is the only plausible explanation for a bunch of sweaty, tanned guys doing pushups and stretching exercises off the railing; I guess I'd just been hoping for an implausible one.