yesterday i went over to the music library to look for some baroque stuff. one thing i really like about the harpsichord, it isn't phony. it's not the sort of music you have to dress up in order to dance to. the sort of music that's normally played in places where people don't give a crap about you if you're fat and are dressed like Old Rebecca's mother, but if you look nice and ivy league and belong to about ten clubs then people flock over to discuss the crops with you for hours.

the music librarian and i sort of struck up a conversation, because neither of us knew how to find the scores i was looking for. she did try. she gave me the call numbers for handel and bartok. i liked her.

so what i did was, i went over to the bachs' aisle and looked at cantatas and oboe music, pretending i was one of those really smart, musically gifted people. i climbed up and rolled around on the mini ladder/footstool as though i was on a quest for the holy grail of baroque. i quit horsing around the music library eventually. there's only so much fun you can have when you're sober and alone.

so what i thought i'd do was, i thought i'd head over to reid and get a book out. i got out this one that was called "the catcher in the rye". it's by salinger. it's about this kid holden who hates phonies and words like "grand", so gets the axe from elite school after elite school. that killed me.

earlier in the day, i bumped into the principal of my own elite ex-school. it's a good thing i'm a total phony, cos i turned around to greet her before realising who she actually was. she said hi to me, and it's hot today, isn't it? i agreed, i was sweating like hell from saturday morning sport, but it was all i could do to resist holding up this humungous yellow blister i had. i know it's totally crazy, but that blister both disgusted and fascinated the hell out of me.