Take a photo of a barcode or cover
absalomabsalom 's review for:
Poetics
by Aristotle
skim-read this good old slim little book of points on wednesday night when i was suffering from acute anxiety for class the next morning. in fact i got there an extra twenty minutes early on top of the half hour before start time i was supposed to arrive (in order to discuss aristotle with everyone else who has not read this book) because i was so terrified. i through my haze of fear and need to please perceive my dramatic writing professor as constantly on the edge of literally suggesting i have a bacchanal in union square with my friends (Like okay mrs julian morrow! she can’t go a silent minute without relating us back to the greek tradition. she has a severe but weirdly uninformed fixation on the old gods.)
speaking of my friends, two weeks of college and my mind is as wobbly as ever, and of course i am again romanticizing my worst qualities of being standoffish, superior, and ridiculously fixative while trying my worst not to alienate those closest to me, but with nothing to fixate on so of course i am again in a howard hughesian spiral of compulsions and EXTREME INSECURITY... it’s so stupid. yes i just had a couple of shots of bourbon and watched both parts of twilight: breaking dawn. i think i equate happiness with perfect happiness and i either can’t recognize when i am happy (but i think i can!) or when it comes i can’t source where it came from and so it becomes more of a game of chance. there is always the chance i will be happy but generally i feel ill ugly and insatiable. but also stagnant. i hardly move but am also uncomfortable. i feel little to nothing and have no drive and want to be in love. i’m waiting for my roommate to fall asleep so i can —— —-. waiting for my friend to fall asleep. friend, roommate which lies over the other? which supercedes which HA HA HA
i am trying to sound approximating the insanity i feel inside but really i am extremely flat, calm, i don’t know if i like the things i look good to myself liking, i want to read again but i haven’t been able to pick up or pay attention to a book for weeks, since i came back here, to college and away from virginia again, i’m hemorrhaging money but hemorrhaging sounds good and it just feels stupid and petty. so i mean i’m spending money. on food and nail polish and clothes and books, which i don’t read, maybe because i don’t want to read them. because i buy books that look and feel good and which i don’t read. i bought a 24.50 book of edvard munch yesterday because he is my new man because i walked past it in the window the other day and had to have it. and i was going to try to talk down the price but i asked my roommate friend roommate if i should and she did what she should, which is answer my question and give an honest suggestion, and i resented her for it! i felt condescended to and small and then at the register i pussied out and didn’t do it and paid like 30 something dollars for two books, the other which begins with a man not even in the beat generation eating peyote and waxing about it and frankly i don’t care or ever want to read that. i’ll try to sell it on depop. or i probably won’t, because i don’t do things. this is such a stupid chunk of text.
anyway what i mean is that i asked for advice and i got perfectly suitable fitting advice and then i resented it and felt like a child. and i am not blaming that for not being able to do what i wanted to do but i do blame myself for that feeling and by that maybe i mean i blame my friend roommate friend for that feeling and maybe i can’t live with someone without resenting them or i am an infinitely open wound or i can never read again or i am forever stupidly dramatic and convinced of my own talents and dismissive of others and what they are capable of and too sensitive towards others and what they are capable of
this is mad stupid and i am only leaving this “review” up because i want to read it in the morning when i am of clearer mind.
speaking of my friends, two weeks of college and my mind is as wobbly as ever, and of course i am again romanticizing my worst qualities of being standoffish, superior, and ridiculously fixative while trying my worst not to alienate those closest to me, but with nothing to fixate on so of course i am again in a howard hughesian spiral of compulsions and EXTREME INSECURITY... it’s so stupid. yes i just had a couple of shots of bourbon and watched both parts of twilight: breaking dawn. i think i equate happiness with perfect happiness and i either can’t recognize when i am happy (but i think i can!) or when it comes i can’t source where it came from and so it becomes more of a game of chance. there is always the chance i will be happy but generally i feel ill ugly and insatiable. but also stagnant. i hardly move but am also uncomfortable. i feel little to nothing and have no drive and want to be in love. i’m waiting for my roommate to fall asleep so i can —— —-. waiting for my friend to fall asleep. friend, roommate which lies over the other? which supercedes which HA HA HA
i am trying to sound approximating the insanity i feel inside but really i am extremely flat, calm, i don’t know if i like the things i look good to myself liking, i want to read again but i haven’t been able to pick up or pay attention to a book for weeks, since i came back here, to college and away from virginia again, i’m hemorrhaging money but hemorrhaging sounds good and it just feels stupid and petty. so i mean i’m spending money. on food and nail polish and clothes and books, which i don’t read, maybe because i don’t want to read them. because i buy books that look and feel good and which i don’t read. i bought a 24.50 book of edvard munch yesterday because he is my new man because i walked past it in the window the other day and had to have it. and i was going to try to talk down the price but i asked my roommate friend roommate if i should and she did what she should, which is answer my question and give an honest suggestion, and i resented her for it! i felt condescended to and small and then at the register i pussied out and didn’t do it and paid like 30 something dollars for two books, the other which begins with a man not even in the beat generation eating peyote and waxing about it and frankly i don’t care or ever want to read that. i’ll try to sell it on depop. or i probably won’t, because i don’t do things. this is such a stupid chunk of text.
anyway what i mean is that i asked for advice and i got perfectly suitable fitting advice and then i resented it and felt like a child. and i am not blaming that for not being able to do what i wanted to do but i do blame myself for that feeling and by that maybe i mean i blame my friend roommate friend for that feeling and maybe i can’t live with someone without resenting them or i am an infinitely open wound or i can never read again or i am forever stupidly dramatic and convinced of my own talents and dismissive of others and what they are capable of and too sensitive towards others and what they are capable of
this is mad stupid and i am only leaving this “review” up because i want to read it in the morning when i am of clearer mind.