Day 8


What would I do if I didn't get messages from you?? I had to force myself to come here instead of calling you up. Yes, another paper tomorrow. But I'd love to see you on Friday. By then, Gawain will be a distant, bad, memory. There's this guy two computers down typing one key at a time, one finger at a time, in a font that can't be any smaller than 57. Don't you ever just want to ask what they're doing? Isn't the weather doing strange things? The trees are the coolest I have ever seen them. They're all frozen, and you can snap off a twig or leaf or something and it is all encased in ice. When the wind blows them, they start creaking, like styrofoam when you bend it a little bit. That was my only consolation today. The trees. I really hate writing papers, Sebastian.

Why am I an English major? If you can come up with an answer, I'll give you a kiss. But it has to be a good answer. No academic rhetoric, please. I wish I wasn't here. I wish I was in bed. I wish I was in your bed...oops. This e-mail is not an entirely confidential means of communication. There are hacks out there. I best be careful. Anyway, I'm being silly and I'm whining. Thanks for the offer to call...but if I did I'd just detain you with silly nothings for as long as I could. And that wouldn't help either of us. Do you have any interest whatsoever in seeing Once On This Island, a smashing new musical currently on its second weekend at Brown? Starring some very brilliant young actors? If you don't I understand completely. Musicals are not everyone's fave. But it got super-rave reviews and some kids from my class are involved. Let me know.

I must delay no longer! Gawain, that doughty knight, awaits my gracious words with a courteous manner that can be trespassed on no further. May he who bore the thorny crown bless you and your house and give you many honors.

-lizzie, scribe