The Tumult of Tuesday

This word "tumult" popped into my head quite early today. I wish I had known at the time the power it would exert over me throughout the rest of the day. Or, rather, I wish I had known the power I gave it by simply conjuring up its presence in my conscious.

My ego? Help me out, Sigmund. You seem to have hijacked my brain, thereby disallowing me to have a thought without wondering what, exactly, impute. Narcissistic libido, which reverts back to the ego-libido?

First, I briefly looked at some Ph.D. programs. That was a short search. Then I thought about starting a journal. About what? Post stuff. Who knows? It takes money. I don't have it. I want to make it, though. This is another thing that impeded the journal thought process. Nevertheless, I still could not get it out of my mind. Becoming a little more knowledgeable about Quark with certainly help. As will getting in with the printer I met yesterday.Paige and I were both headed into Manhattan; I went and got a haircut despite the fact that Franco deserted me. I went to a woman named Petal (as in flower) instead. Should I tell this story? Why not? Before meeting Petal, I had to get my hair washed. After the woman shampooed my hair and asked if I was going to color it again (she remembered my bleach job), she perused the salon to see who could fit me in. There was a guy sitting in a chair reading a newspaper.

I had seen him just about the other 10 times I had been in this there. So the shampoo lady said, "Miguel." "I have somebody," he retorted. Enter Petal. She's a very nice woman. She did what I asked her after understanding that I hadn't had to articulate my hair wished for close to a year now because Franco was just that in tune with my needs. She was very careful and together we decided on a #2 fade. Throughout the session, I kept looking over at Miguel. He was really into his newspaper. Finally, the appointment was over, I tipped Petal, and looked back one more time at Miguel with his client. He never had a client.

So with Beth Orton, Norah Jones, and Joan Armatrading on "repeat" on my aforementioned iPod, I got back on the 6 after my hair appointment and headed to school. I met Renata again and we went and paid $5 for Vietnamese on University.

Then I went to my new cafe and attempted to complete Freud. I am 15 bloody pages from finishing. I am not in the right state of mind to have this hit and it's frustrating. Libidos and drives and objects and sublimation and-- I can't deal. I'm gonna try, though. Only a few more pages. And I decided not to write papers, per se. I realized that a weakness of mine, besides coming up with good topics, is defining terms. So, after consulting with Paige on her thoughts, I decided that I would instead attempt to define the important terms. For instance, with this particular text, I will try to define/discuss infantile amnesia; narcissistic libido; the subject; 'masculine' and 'feminine'; etc. The day's not over yet.

Paige and I have been planning to go to this place in Williamsburg for a few days now. Girls, "bois," drag kings. I'm not too in the mood to go, though. All I want to do is write. Plus, tomorrow is a full day and I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I have an interview in the afternoon and another doctor appointment -- this one is of the stirrups nature. But Paige is excited to go and I feel responsible for maintaining our plans. So I'm going. I wonder what the hell would Freud say about that? And it was hot today. I knew it would come. I imagine I'll be exterminating many more spiders in the future as a result of the heat.