Java Joe's, as Gabe predicted, was "stupid crowded" Sunday morning (including with two other groups of Swatties - Kara & entourage and Liz, Chirag and companions), but as he also suggested, it wasn't such a big problem, because the day was simply gorgeous. So Matt and Alyssa waited in the sunny parking lot before Brigid and me and my parents arrived and then waited another twenty minutes before a table for six was ready. Conversation was predictably lively - why Republican speakers are scary, why Nickel Creek (the N*Sync of bluegrass) are coming rather than Wilco, why I'm not DJing Sean Peterson's benefit, why there's something sketchy going on at my parents' bed and breakfast. Rather than splitting cheese blintzes all round, I went for just a spinach-garlic-prosciutto-mozzarella omelet; at first I wasn't feeling it, but after I peppered-and-salted and then hit the prosciutto, and the cholesterol kicked in. With sides of homefries and rye toast, and a large glass of freshly-squozen, that was plenty to keep me filled for most of the day. Samples of others' food - Dad's cinnamon roll, Mom's salmon-havarti-dill omelet, Matt's apple-raisin-carrot pancakes - were all uniformly excellent. The folks left from there, so Matt took the four of us back, by way of Neu!, part of his effort to acquire a grounding in rock-snob obscure classics.

The rest of the day was mostly consigned to reading, much as seemingly everyone else on campus and off was set to work the day away. I didn't make it through all of the week's assignment, but did read all 113 pages of Malinowski (rather enjoyable), 60 of Kuper (helpful overview), 30 of Fabian (still overjargony but less dense contentwise than last time), and 200 pages in the course of eight hours (between 1:30 and 9:30) is no slouch for an audited class. Mostly I just shut myself into my room, playing music just loud enough to drown out Joel in the next room working out the chords to "Biomusicology" - AmAnSet, 4Hero, ATUB, La Mima. Didn't need much in the way of food intake, just some leftover fish and rice. About five, when I really needed a break from "Argonauts of the Western Pacific" (fascinating as Trobriand ethnography is), it came in the form of a dispute from across the hall - Lizzie and Samarah wanted me to put my name down on one side or the other of the Buckley/Cohen debate vis á vis "Hallelujah." After giving several arguments both ways, I agreed to side with the traditionalists (the majority, somewhat surprisingly). Kuper e-res interrupted with various other computer activities (researching the next round of promo requests. Then I went out.

The day had transformed (observed by me obliquely through my comforting Southern exposure) from gloriously sunny and clear to gloriously rainy and humid, by the time I walked over to McCabe. Managed to get through Fabian in record time, despite distraction upstairs from Susie Ansell's no-good whispers and downstairs from all kinds of folks, the generous Sunday night crowd. Then to Lang to practice and finish a chapter of Cloudsplitter I'd started weeks ago (I must make it a point to read that more regularly, I do enjoy it so.) And Paces, whose newly frantic noisy r&b ice-block incarnation Gabe blamed on "my generation." Brigid declared it too loud to play cribbage, and we went off in search of somewhere else. Decided it was too nice to be inside, so back to the fragrance garden to take in the witch hazel (after blowing my nose on leaves a few times, I still couldn't smell much), and the lovely CP&P porch of Parrish, which is a wonderful spot to play cards in the rain, and a good vantage point for much of campus - shuttles, trains, mccabe sharples tarble, the triplet window. It took a little while to recollect all the rules for ourselves, and to exhaust puns on the bridge (which she had just learned), Brigid, Bridge, cribbage, etc. Funny looks and visits from Ben, Rob, missed-date Stef. A shuttle pulled up as I was dealing what could have been the last hand, but when we played it out I was still five pegs shy. So B dealt another; by the time we finished the van was still there, but after sitting in it for a few minutes without a driver, I decided to walk instead. Joined by Rachel Block, who talked of food, and I invited her up for some and KOA. Left a pleasant all-flat chat about Nicholson Baker to write here, and still made it to bed by 2.

Yesterday was nicely planned out in my head, and surprisingly enacted accordingly. I even did all the last few things that I thought I would only do some of (Fabian, practice, Paces, cribbage, update.) Today was similarly plotted out and, so far, well accomplished: French, practice, lunch home, culture concept (good - illuminating and at times fascinating), update. Even better than well, in fact, thanks to two long-awaited arrivals: Plastic Fantastic Machine's Beautiful and Stephin Merrit's "debut" soundtrack record Eban & Charley. An article in the press kit for the latter prompted a debate here at lunch about whether "gay" could or should be capitalized (as in "openly Gay musician" and "two Gay black soldiers"). Nori Joel and I had never seen it, and didn't much feel a need for it, while Rebecca defended it, rather unconvincingly I thought. If the power for this computer hadn't cut off unexpectedly, I would have been done with this twenty minutes ago and been able to make it on time to African. As it is, I'm headed off now.

all your favorite things
are painted on the wings
of the butterflies
in Poppyland