Ive already started on the autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini and made the mistake of telling my mom i should finish that book before i go back to school. now she yells at me if i appear anywhere without my nose buried in that book, including in my bed at seven am. but going shopping for all those books just really gives me a sense of satisfaction. ((i cant type this morning, for some reason i keep hitttttttttttttinng long letters like that. but most of them i delete))

i was going to write about my dream last night but now its not even absurd or funny or anything any more. just odd. mostly cause i left the music from my computer on all night and music influenced dreams like that generally arent all that good or prophetic, just stupid.