18.11.01 – Sunday
Lulled, gently, into the certitude of reading. Carefully writing out ideas and quotations on 3×5 cards, printing neatly, citing assiduously.
Met J. at the Haymarket, chattering away about the month of October (where did it go? what happened? what did you do?) and the inchoate, incomprehensible fear of application (both to one’s studies and to one’s chosen graduate schools). The floor of the cafe seemed suddenly brilliant to me, the bright wood vivid in the artificial light — tho’ perhaps I oughtn’t to have indulged in that espresso, not at 7.30-ish in the evening.