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"Give me a kiss to build a dream on..."

It was two days ago, but I'm still buzzed. If I had any doubt as to my attraction to women, it has basically been put to rest. I didn't go all the way, but it was amazing. I don't know when I'm going to get to see Rachel next, because we both have a busy one this week, but I'm refraining from getting all lonely.

I'd forgotten how lovely it is to cuddle up with something to sleep and have it cuddle back.

In less stellar news, the poor guy from 112 is still attempting to flirt with me. He hasn't done anything other than hover after class yet, but I'm not looking forward to having to deal with that. I can only hope it works itself out without me having to have a heart-to-heart. He's a nice guy, but a guy.

In honor of the Shakespeare seminar I'm going to tomorrow, Henry V, Prologue, 1-34
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention.
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels,
Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword and fire
Crouch for employment. But pardon, and gentles all,
The flat unraised spirits that have dared
On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
So great an object: Can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France? or may we cram
Within this wooden O the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt?
O, pardon! since a crooked figure may
Attest in little place a million;
And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,
On your imaginary forces work.
Suppose within the girdle of these walls
Are now confined two mighty monarchies,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder:
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts;
Into a thousand parts divide one man,
And make imaginary puissance;
Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them
Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth;
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times,
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass: for the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who prologue-like your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.

For anyone who cares, the subject of this entry is from "Kiss to Build a Dream On" by Louis Armstrong.


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