Self-indulgent post about moving
Dear Diary,
All my books are now packed, unless I turn my head slightly to the right and see the 20-odd books that aren't, or look at the floor and see, scattered variously, the ten or fifteen books that aren't, or even look just below the bottom left corner of my monitor and see the book that isn't. Oh, and there's another one on the right side. And there are at least three in my bedroom that aren't packed. But mostly they're all packed. The bookcase of whose construction I was very proud when I finished it is empty, and I imagine I'll take it apart soon (it's made of steel and copper pipes and planks, so it assembles and disassembles pretty easily). Clearing off my desk I found a picture of me which my mother took when I was in the process of moving in fourteen months and seven days ago, shortly after I had reassembled the bookcase. I need a haircut, and have placed on the second-highest shelf copies of The Symbolism of Evil (which I still haven't read, and which is yet unpacked), and The White Goddess and The Golden Bough (Frazer's abridged edition, obviously; both of these are read and packed). I note that at that point I was still in the habit of clipping a pen to the collar of my shirt. I found along with it a picture each of myself and my sister at her apartment last year for Thanksgiving. I don't really know what to do with these pictures. I have a group of photos in my bedroom, most of which date from a high school trip to England (one of the people on the trip got into the practice of taking a picture of me whenever we were waiting for something, for some reason, and I wound up with copies of the pictures), and the rest of which are from a latin convention at my high school in the first week of college. Some of them have started to stick to each other, because they spend almost all their time packed next to each other in an envelope gathering dust until I happen across them and, in going through them, separate them.
Comments
on 2005-08-14 21:40:54.0, ben wolfson commented:
Self-indulgent, thereby distinguished from everything else here.
and, further, on 2005-08-14 22:28:44.0, eb commented:
I buy postcards and never take pictures. Doesn't seem strange to me. I just wish there were more postcards of things I'd take pictures of, if I were inclined to take pcitures.
and, further, on 2005-08-14 22:30:39.0, ben wolfson commented:
One of the things that struck me at Delphi were how absolutely assy almost all of the postcards were.
and, further, on 2005-08-14 22:30:50.0, eb commented:
I have a slightly different rule, though; it's not so much "only memories" as it is a reluctance to be the one putting borders on things.
and, further, on 2005-08-14 22:37:44.0, eb commented:
The postcards that really annoyed me were the ones of the cube houses in Rotterdam. I just wanted some basic pictures that could give a sense of what the buildings look like, and they all went for the artsy, black-and-white approach.