A Single Layer

My body aches. Saturday evening, I took two of my flatmates and met several of my friends for the Annual Highland Something, for which the student centre supplies a variety of ceilidhs. There was so much spinning and fiddle-dee-dee (in the words of Tom), that my bones feel flung to bits. But it is a good sort of pain, and I would do it again tomorrow if there was a chance. Our photographer was not with us, so I have no proof of the adventure apart from my own creaking joints. I'll be sure to fix that next time.

because you were all wondering what I'm writing my dissertation on, here's a brief synopsis of my 'research context': When James Macpherson published his Fragments of Ancient Poetry in 1760, he went to great lengths to make the Fragments appear to be authentic remains of an ancient, heroic oral tradition. His reasons for this were largely political, and as such, influenced the content of the epics themselves. As an attempt to establish a particularly Scottish identity, the poems were quite effective. However, to do so required both a simplification and a manipulation of traditional mythology. Stripped of anagogical significance, the Ossian epics more or less represented an Enlightenment version of history, tradition, and mythic heritage. The stories themselves were changed by their very purpose and in turn changed the manner of representing myth in future narratives. Moreover, the emphasis on the Ossian epics as authentic tales from the past, as ‘fragments,’ served

this makes the third month for me to come down with a sudden mysterious illness. except that this isn't very mysterious--I have a sore throat and a runny nose. last month it was a stomach flu for five hours, and the month before it was whatever attacked my abdomen in Rome on Christmas Eve. I should not have slacked off with my vitamins. I am clearly not adjusted to the British air. meanwhile, my curtains have been washed, Liesl and I made amazing lemon cake from a box, and flat six is planning a party for the Chinese New Year replete with sing-alongs, a musician's DJ, boardgames, fireworks, pizza, Chinese take-away, and dumpling. It is a Hilarious Party. Looking forward to it.

for wednesday and thursday: Scott's Ivanhoe Hegel's Aesthetics: Lectures on Fine Art (excerpts) Austen's Northanger Abbey (and accompanying critical essay by unremembered critic) for dissertation proposal and other concerns: The Cambridge Companion to the Scottish Enlightenment , The Scottish Enlightenment: An Anthology , Bardic Nationalism, Nation and Narration, Culture and Imperialism, and Ossian and Ossianism by a variety of authors, contemporary and... old. what I have done in the last week other than reading, attending class, and fretting internally over my dissertation proposal: nothing no, I have not even called my mother, to whom I wish a wonderful week with all the love I can muster into the space of a blog.

your hair is long when I dream of you and your hands and fingers are long, too. you stoop low and turn to hear my voice, cup my chin in your piano hands, and with the center of your attention, muffle all outward noise (I think you wear a cape). —my hands are narrow and come to a point you tuck them like bread in your pockets and we walk to the train— we are lovers, so of course we walk in the rain, and smile while the drops form a frame for our faces. I cannot remember where you take us— to the dining car or the caboose. we wave from the windows, smiling at strangers, and wonder that no one out there knows our names. the landscape’s the same as when we left. I ask you, ‘have we gone in circles?’ you say, ‘the ride’s enough’ and pinch my nose and glance below at the murky water (it is a dream, remember). for now we stand beside a pond you still hold my hand (your skin is so thin) and I take each of your fingers in my mout

This week's forecast Chance of flat confrontations: 94% Number of flat conversations about flat confrontations: 17 Possible routes of escape from flat confrontations: 2 (door, window) 'Safety' rooms-in case of confrontational emergency head to: Jess' room, room 01.