Dear City, I am angry with you. Why did it take me an hour to get home? What was the point of my leaving work early at all? I bet this has something to do with Arnold Schwarzennegger, don't you? LOVERICKA.
Arnold is in town for, you know, the Arnold Fitness Classic, which is held every year in the Spanish-cake-icing-colored convention center (no windows! no right angles! pastels!) downtown.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:All day I have continued fretting. I feel desperate & hungry & I am wondering if this is really the right mood in which to do the thing I am planning to do next: which is to curl up in bed with Wuthering Heights. Yesterday I read the bit where Heathcliff throws the knife at Isabella. I must confess that not only do I like me a good reckless knifethrowing, I am totally held sway by Heathcliff & other broody types.
But Catherine: I see myself in her, & recoil with deep concern. I want no part of her.
I pray one prayer � I repeat it till my tongue stiffens � Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living! You said I killed you � haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe � I know that ghosts have wandered on the earth. Be with me always � take any form � dirve me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!
