Thought I was done my packing, everything could either now be put in luggage or thrown away. Then I remembered some other stuff, on top of my dresser. Two small speakers which are essentially dead to me, unusable, and I need to see if I can give away. Also, detergent and fabric softener, which I can pack but that might be kind of retarded. Also, now that I think about it, cleaning supplies under the sink. My hippie neighbor's listening to a mix that's surprisingly listenable. I paid attention during Beulah, opened all doors. Then Reasons by Built to Spill came on, then something that sounded like Neil Young maybe then something that sounded like Jimmy Eat World maybe. Now, Dramamine by Modest Mouse. Yeah.

No quarters to do laundry. Dirty clothes on the floor, to be thrown into luggage. Big money in my wallet, enough hopefully to cover one month's rent.

Summer reading list, growing. I've kind of given up on the Paul Auster. Invisible Man still looks likely to read. After that, I'm thinking Gravity's Rainbow. Also: Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami, Something Happened by Joseph Heller. I saw that for like a quarter at a bookstore downtown, but declined to buy it thinking that it might've been the sequel to Catch-22, and fuck that action. But apparently, Something Happened is fucking brilliant, so I should check that out. I've also been meaning to read Ficciones by Borges. Also, in the realm of poetry, still want to read David Berman's Actual Air, and Maldoror, eighteenth century surrealist poem about nature of evil or somesuch thing. I think my uncle owns a copy and has read it. That one's kind of a low priority.

Have I ever declared my goal of wanting to read Ulysses before I turn 21? If not, I'll do so now. That won't happen this summer though. But it will happen eventually. I'll probably start next summer. I wonder if I'll give up and say "fuck it" fifty pages in.

Pyramid Song's playing now. I've got more cleaning to do.