I'm so having a good time researching and writing papers for the mastering course. It's much easier when you're required. I now understand those courses common in the u.s. made for writer aspirants and that cause discomfort to some aspirants here because of the humbling aspect of showing the need for help.
The more I read Zadie Smith's On Beauty the more I get curious about the author as a person (like me). My readings on the idea of the author's death, the different persona created by the author (person) to manipulate artfully its material, doesn't get me. For me, it's just a complex person like everybody else facing the world with their crafty perception, intelligence and, why not, imagination. I'm really into Smith, and there are some personal reasons for that.
Yesterday I had a good coffee and chocolate time with a girlmate from the mastering. Talks, flirting puzzles, and so on. I'd better definitely tell her I'm just a weirdo curious gay guy that fancies having affair with women to understand better what's it like, and possibly write about it, or that I'm one of those movielike embodiments of fables like that Andersen's Ugly Duckling. Of course, I don't mean it by the fable message itself but because of the troubles that come with being among totally diferent types. I don't even know what I want to say anymore. Stop it me!
I'm listening to Legião Urbana records. It's good soundtrack for sunny beautiful afternoons like today.
