and then our exile

the universe is made of stories, not atoms

Running a low fever has become a norm. And every few days i find a new reason to limp.

Two days ago, thought: how much of what i do is tainted by trying to fit archetype.

Yesterday, the underpass from the university to the bus stop tried retro-morphing, that it was the 50s and it was a phonebooth to pack sardines in. Faces, pieces of skin and strips of cloth, thrown against one another in with their liberalized scents and the animalism of a constant.

Tomorrow, i have a midterm. i need to study a lot, because in the last course i basically floated, i knew the stuff, did not need to do much. Here it is different, because i have missed a bunch of classes (mostly for good reasons) and also because the material is mostly new, and vocabulary is still a stumbling-block.

Today, i feel bad, for certain reasons, nearly apathetic, for others, and distracted.