Another poem, another long, crazy day, and another stroke of incoherence.

Actually, two days, containing two dinners, one of which stretched out to a breakfast and a lunch. Oh, fencing parties. It was the farewell dinner to all the fencing team seniors on Friday, which was followed by a party, which was followed by change of venue and a game of trivial pursuit, which was followed by an attempt to see dawn at the point (but it was a bit too foggy), which was followed by watching The Princess Bride and most of those remaining falling asleep, which was followed by breakfast at Bartlett, which was followed by watching the first six episodes of Coupling (British version, quite hilarious), which was followed by lunch at Pierce.

So, like most fencing parties, this one had a theme, which was the Titanic (yes, lovely for a finale, isn’t it?), and people were dressed appropriately as upper-class passengers or Irish immigrants. I myself borrowed a pair of suspenders and looked as ragged as possible.

And then, after sleeping for all of two hours or so Saturday, we had the Shady Dealer editorial dinner, which was not particularly impressive attendance-wise, but still fun. We went to the Smoke Daddy again, and it was once again excellent. The band was billed as electric bluegrass, and was excellent; sort of Grateful Dead-ish, with a very impressive guitarist.

And, as mentioned, I’ve put up another poem/song, titled "No Particular Night or Morning." Enjoy. or Despise, if you prefer.

Just one more week to get through: two papers, two finals, and a party or so. I can’t wait to be done. Much as I’m going to miss people, and much as this year has been great, I’d really like to be able to relax for a while, not to mention catch up with some crazy Chicagoans – alright, mostly suburbanites, but I won’t hold that against them.