portentous
college is over. it must be. i’ve seen the belltower, and i’ve seen the panorama of the campus from the belltower. philly was small and faint, off in the corner of the distance, a stamp on the envelope.
i’ve had — er, thrown — a party in the house of a professor, one who is currently away. she knows about it, don’t worry. how?, you might ask. surely ester wouldn’t be stupid enough to accidentally send the “party at xxxxxx’s!” email TO the prof herself along with the rest of the class, right? right?
college is over. they’ve been feeding us too well lately. i feel like hansel and gretel, like they’re fattening us up to march us across the stage into the dark, foreboding oven of the future. college is over.
i’ve gotten a haircut. i like it: it fits into this period of time nicely, as, like this period of time, like all transitional periods, it’s pretty self-explanatory.