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the prof vanishes
Jul. 23rd, 2007 09:39 pmSunday was the family reunion. Il pleut comme un batard, and the air was full of insisting flies. Again, the best bit was when everyone else went home and I got to hang out with my brother.
We played pool and then we played in the pool. I am not nearly as bad at billiards as I should by rights be. I believe this is partly because my brother, while a tick autocratic, is a genuinely good instructor and has a good, intuitive understanding of many physical activities. I believe the other part is that I mystically get better at all skilled activities as I age, whether I practise or not, and long after that's supposed to happen.*
It is a pleasing faith and I mean to maintain it.
Today I hurried, as fast as you can hurry while sitting in the back of your parents' van, on a ferry, and on a bus (in the serendiptous company of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stitchinmyside -- hullo Stitch!) - back to town, in order to meet my prof at 4pm on campus. This is Gay Men Read Books! prof, not now-for-a-very-brief-advisory prof. We had arranged to meet in the Munchie Bar in the SUB and exchange books -- I have four of his novels and he has at least two of mine.
At 4:45, prof still unshown, I cleared the surface of my small red bistro table, and carefully arranged some letters I had torn out of an issue of the campus paper, the Martlet:
m I st e r :
i
h a V e
g o n E
F.
F. for Frac, and Mister standing in for a daring use of his first name. The colon I made out of the dots of two small Is.
Then I went to the bookstore. I mooched about a bit. I checked back just after 5pm: nil prof, though my message was still there (cheers, uni kids.) I wandered over to the library to check my email (I have a university logon now!) and then up to his office, where he was squarely not in evidence. I thought about leaving his books, but what if they'd strayed? I carted them back onto the bus.
Then to a heart-soothing wander through my second-best independent bookshop, and the grocery store for fancy salad ingredients, and home.
Please, if you think of it, send me emails tomorrow and the next day, or LJ comments, or facebook bits and pieces, anything requiring replies, to distract me from worrying about the dental side of life. Grateful wouldn't cover it.
{rf}
*Except violin.
We played pool and then we played in the pool. I am not nearly as bad at billiards as I should by rights be. I believe this is partly because my brother, while a tick autocratic, is a genuinely good instructor and has a good, intuitive understanding of many physical activities. I believe the other part is that I mystically get better at all skilled activities as I age, whether I practise or not, and long after that's supposed to happen.*
It is a pleasing faith and I mean to maintain it.
Today I hurried, as fast as you can hurry while sitting in the back of your parents' van, on a ferry, and on a bus (in the serendiptous company of
stitchinmyside -- hullo Stitch!) - back to town, in order to meet my prof at 4pm on campus. This is Gay Men Read Books! prof, not now-for-a-very-brief-advisory prof. We had arranged to meet in the Munchie Bar in the SUB and exchange books -- I have four of his novels and he has at least two of mine.At 4:45, prof still unshown, I cleared the surface of my small red bistro table, and carefully arranged some letters I had torn out of an issue of the campus paper, the Martlet:
i
h a V e
g o n E
F.
F. for Frac, and Mister standing in for a daring use of his first name. The colon I made out of the dots of two small Is.
Then I went to the bookstore. I mooched about a bit. I checked back just after 5pm: nil prof, though my message was still there (cheers, uni kids.) I wandered over to the library to check my email (I have a university logon now!) and then up to his office, where he was squarely not in evidence. I thought about leaving his books, but what if they'd strayed? I carted them back onto the bus.
Then to a heart-soothing wander through my second-best independent bookshop, and the grocery store for fancy salad ingredients, and home.
Please, if you think of it, send me emails tomorrow and the next day, or LJ comments, or facebook bits and pieces, anything requiring replies, to distract me from worrying about the dental side of life. Grateful wouldn't cover it.
{rf}
*Except violin.
