Thursday, July 14, 2005

While rearranging my apartment, I've been turning up all sorts of interesting things - old notebooks from school, pictures and journals from various adventures I'd been on, etc. Some of this has been fun to look at again, some downright painful, some a little bit embarassing.

The latest find was a notebook from the only creative writing class I ever took (Mid 90s, Harvard Extension School. Taught in French. Très cool.). Sorry if it seems pretentious to some (we can't all be lovers of night-clubbing and karaoke); I think it's awfully funny. Just wait till I get around to the bad poetry.

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