2003-07-27 / 7:35 p.m.

A long Sunday of reading Jane Eyre and listening to the Magnetic Fields made me relax. I tried a little Bright Eyes, as well, and while the EP was fine, the drastic dark plunge into Fevers and Mirrors was ill-advised; the mission had to be aborted.

I'm very upset with Joyce Carol Oates. Syphillis, indeed. I'm researching now, to rewrite my letter. And I've found 15 or 20 essays that compare various facets of Jane Eyre to Alice in Wonderland. So it's a good thing I have no job and no social life, because I'm terribly busy.

I had no email for over a day. No good. Missing emails and poetry from Mr. Wright when I'm already depressed is not the way to ameliorate the situation.

I miss Bob. He finally emailed me; has yet to send the long-anticipated short story. I'm nervous because he loses things in a way that defies logical thought.

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