was my inaugural visit to the BL. actually it was just a visit to the BL's conference centre, though i did walk into the BL lobby and ask: where am i supposed to be???!
which seems about right.
so i spent the day at the BL conference centre at a storytelling workshop producing a story that totally doesn't translate outside of that workshop because the stories we write on twitter don't produce a coherent narrative, only noise.
but it was good to go, good to do, good to get away from the RFK assassination which i am now- per my last supervision- supposed 'to fondle.'
in good things: i am no longer in a place where narratively fondling the details of an assassination sounds fun.
in bad things: i have to narratively fondle the details of this assassination in spite of that.
tomorrow is the last night of the victorian fashion lecture series i've been going to all winter. the one where, last time, they turned out all the lights and we were forced to take notes in the dark (true story: i anticipate that college ruled lines are way smaller than they are).
and tomorrow is the first day of april.
mothering's sunday has passed. british summer time is here. so it feels like the end of many things and the beginning of something, though- really- nothing's ending and i don't know what may begin.
may is for america. june is for conferences. april is for i don't know what.
lindear has proclaimed it the month that i shall remain drama-free. we'll see about that...
yesterday, the elderly lady with alzheimer's who i'm walking to church, about half-way up kensington church walk towards notting hill gate, looked me dead in the eye and said, out of nowhere, so have you sorted out a future for yourself yet?
and i said, no, but i'm working on that.