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DeWolfe Apts., on the Feast of the Transfiguration
Mother is here! We walked to the grocery store this afternoon, then ate bibimbap at Takemura (a Japanese restaurant, but it serves Korean food). We spent the last two hours before sunset, walking along the banks of the Charles and speaking of friendship and poetry, with much sighing and laughter. Mother is a romantic in the truest sense of the word: we once drove up to the mountains on one of her whims so that we could sit by a small gurgling stream and read Rilke out loud to the waiting forest. (Father is very bad at being romantic; as for me, I find it difficult to let myself get completely carried away by the mood as Mother does, but nonetheless I have a better sensibility for these things.) I feel younger around her. She is idealistic and innocent even though she has experienced so much more of life than me. I think it is Mother's influence that keeps me from turning into a cynic.
Today's theme was one of the few references I actually recognized, although I admit that I remembered very little about "Sailing to Byzantium". Whenever I think of Yeats, I immediately recall that tornado-shaped spiral I drew next to the word "GYRE" in my notes in literature class, senior year of high school. I looked up some of my notes from the class, since they were so conveniently sitting on this computer, and among many rather wince-inducing lines, I discovered this priceless phrase: "this image of a godlike immortal who brings destruction and fear". At that point I knew I needed to write Gundam Wing.
( Gundam Wing, 31 days, Let me die young )
Well, that was short. >_< Tomorrow's ought to be longer, if I ever figure out what to write.
Yours &c.
Mother is here! We walked to the grocery store this afternoon, then ate bibimbap at Takemura (a Japanese restaurant, but it serves Korean food). We spent the last two hours before sunset, walking along the banks of the Charles and speaking of friendship and poetry, with much sighing and laughter. Mother is a romantic in the truest sense of the word: we once drove up to the mountains on one of her whims so that we could sit by a small gurgling stream and read Rilke out loud to the waiting forest. (Father is very bad at being romantic; as for me, I find it difficult to let myself get completely carried away by the mood as Mother does, but nonetheless I have a better sensibility for these things.) I feel younger around her. She is idealistic and innocent even though she has experienced so much more of life than me. I think it is Mother's influence that keeps me from turning into a cynic.
Today's theme was one of the few references I actually recognized, although I admit that I remembered very little about "Sailing to Byzantium". Whenever I think of Yeats, I immediately recall that tornado-shaped spiral I drew next to the word "GYRE" in my notes in literature class, senior year of high school. I looked up some of my notes from the class, since they were so conveniently sitting on this computer, and among many rather wince-inducing lines, I discovered this priceless phrase: "this image of a godlike immortal who brings destruction and fear". At that point I knew I needed to write Gundam Wing.
( Gundam Wing, 31 days, Let me die young )
Well, that was short. >_< Tomorrow's ought to be longer, if I ever figure out what to write.
Yours &c.
