my heart is a glorious machine;

Suddenly I am hit with an incredibly urgent desire to write a novel about a group of people with basically useless superpowers.

Because, come on, they can't be conveniently awesome all the time. Someone's got to get stuck with 'oh, look, I can lower prices with the blink of an eye!', or 'I CAN TALK TO GOLDFISH OMG'.

Or, there could be a team of superheroes with literary-based powers: 'I am...EXPOSITION MANNN! (Along with my trusty sidekick...APOSTROPHE BOY!)'

Yeah, going to bed now. Kittyspam will insue tomorrow, especially as Mum and Dad's early Christmas present got here the same day as the kitty: they bought themselves a digital camera. Mine is somewhere in Illinois being repaired, but this one is...basically identical, so far as I can tell, except for a few new features and a slightly different layout. (By the by, the wee beastie still hasn't got a name. I looked through Eliot's Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, of course, but none of the names suit, except for Mr. Mistofolees, and we already had one of those. It was a Miss Mistofolees, commonly known as Misty, but it still counts. Any other (male) cats in literature? Why am I drawing such a blank? lady_moriel, because I know you will either suggest it or remember to suggest it in two days time while in the shower/in bed/at school/driving/eating breakfast, Tevildo would be AWESOME. Unfortunately, the parents would not get it. Even if I explained it, my dad wouldn't get it. Anyway, kitty's too cute to be evil yet.)

So, one of the first things I discovered in Alyssa's family's house has been sending me into fits of geeky squeeishness.

They own what is apparently a first edition copy of T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets (published in 1943, I believe; somewhere around there, at least). Tucked inside of it are typewritten copies of 'Rhapsody on a Windy Night', 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock', and 'Gerontion'. Typewritten. Held together with a paper clip so old it's made grooves in the yellowing paper. I've been sporadically reading the poems since I got here whenever I have a moment in which I don't really have much else to do (which isn't often, as Alyssa and I are gadding about with cameras and costumes and occasionally our sisters).

Today, Mrs. H took us (Mum, Heidi, Alyssa, her sister Laura, and I) to the consignment shop, which as far as I can tell is like a thrift shop, with more vintage and antique items: I noticed a great deal of wonderful parlour chairs, the cloth-covered sort, with which I would love very much to furnish a home, or a dorm room. There was an exquisite vintage typewriter for only fifty dollars, and I very seriously considered buying it, but decided that if I really want a laptop and an iPod, both of which would be much more practical, I need to be a bit more sparing with large purchases such as that. I did, however, buy a wooden handbag with a nineteen twenties look to it, a soft, red-brown 'authentic velour' hat, which could fit into several eras and looks rather pleasant with my nineteen thirties dress, and--most exciting of all--a nineteen twenties flapper hat, dangling beads and all. Alyssa and I are going to take photographs of them as soon as possible, and you lot can see them when I get home. I'm completely thrilled: I adore hats madly, and it is very difficult to find them in this day and age.

We also dropped into Starbucks, which I have dearly missed, and my beloved vanilla bean creme frappuchino and I were reuniited. (Starbucks smells glorious, by the way.)

In further news, Pride & Prejudice is my new(est) favourite film. It is so beautiful that I was very nearly aching, and I must get a hold of the soundtrack as soon as possible. Amusingly, Mr. Darcy reminded me of fandom Snape, especially with his proficiency for black (and mmm, tailcoat! *drool*), and I kept expecting Lizzie to hiss fiercely, "That overgrown bat!" But oh, how lovely it was, and I must find icons immediately. Cinematography = so much love.