Art: soul food

Dear Diary,

Today was useful, going to lectures. I returned to the street approaching my house inundated with water. A veritable river flowing along the road. I walked upon the wall. A car passed making waves, inundating me, I was mildly annoyed, but knew it inevitable. Alas, some fellow behind me had the same thing happen, but the chav started to scream out obscenities, non-stop. Get over it already. What a wazzuk.

Anyway, luckily I live on a slightly proud ridge, so don't have to have sandbags outside the doors, like so many of my neighbours.

The tutorial went well. It was nice to see some familiar faces, all fellow historians, all studious.

I turned up straight (for once). We went on a field trip, it was great. The Art gallery had a magnificent collection. Turner, Rodin, ahhh, Art how I love thee; moreso than base ardent desire, or earthly wants of sac or smoke. Aye. Art: soul-food. Dazzling, awe-inspiring, wonderful.

I spent most of the time in the gallery chatting up the beauteous Trinidad-Indian historian. I recounted all manner of chatter, as per usual. While half-way through one of my orations, the pretty Hindu said, "I just had an intense feeling of deja-vu." Wow. I repeated what I had said (that cynicism and bitterness are not conducive to the human condition, that we should retain a youthful spirit, with the innocent wonder of childlike fascination...) surely, the sense of deja-vu happened again. I had felt it too, though only a slither of what the exotic goddess felt.

Afterwards I went for a coffee with a study-buddy (whom I have been on all courses with). It was a really nice day, despite the Biblical floods.

I return home, safe and sound, in one bit, and am still pining, mooning, for an imagined fantastic female, who doesn't exist, except in my mind. "Cassandra, my imaginary pillow-girlfriend." (Scrubs)

I feel a YouTube video coming on. Dr. John and Nina Simone. I should be studying Classical, I will post up some Classical pieces once I am happy with my execution of them.

I neglected to mention that my guitar student has a talent for art. Drawing. Sketching. Painting. She has done a self-portrait which is magnificent. I commissioned her to draw me. She doesn't want money (good girl, the potential anti-materialist in her.)

I am nearly out of tobacco, and completely dry of smoke. Luckily I have some cyder. Arr. Saturnsday night. I texted uncle Paul. N'owt doing. I will see him in Church tomorrow.

Good night, and God-bless,

Maximus Fleximus.