but i will always have time to come out and play

i have a thesis to finish, a shit-ton of jobs and a few fellowships to apply for, a current job to keep, a room to sublet, a room to CLEAN, a roommate to inform that i might be subletting, two (2) benefit readings to make invitations for (is it tacky to put a 'suggested donation' on the invites? do i have to make all the introductions?), an apartment to clean before my mom gets here, an unrequited crush to nurse and recover from, a therapist to negotiate with, overdue library books to read and return, a hard drive to back up in case it $^(*ing crashes again, an nyc 'exit strategy' or staying-plan to come up with, a billion other things i'm forgetting, my wife to murder, and Guilder to frame for it. I'M SWAMPED.

somehow this does not preclude Treehouse nights, long walks through Chelsea, randome readings, sleep, facebook. ephemera, ephemera.

'how we live our days is how we live our lives'. fuckin' A it is.

i should feel more stressed, but i just don't.

love
amy
p.s. also a soul to keep from going under. this sort of takes priority over everything else. (earning money insomuch as it allows me to maintain the lifestyle that keeps my soul from going under. et cetera.)
p.p.s. i do feel stressed. but in a weird rest-of-my-life way, not in a get-this-shit-done-by-next-week way. not in the way that is productive.