Yesterday, I found time to get to Dancesport and learned to chacha. Fabulously, there were enough men to partner and mingle. I can’t explain the euphoria that dance provides even off of my beloved stage; it’s an unequalled high.

As the craziness of the schoolweek mounted (which, for me, actually started last Friday), I observed in myself a crescendo of belligerence compounded by hours upon hours in the 4º cold room, and last night, I caught myself greeting the lover with “motherfucker.” But that’s an endearment, ja know?

I need to acknowledge the best friends known to mankind who can discern when to slap me upside the head and when to hug me when I’m in turmoil. Or both, simultaneously. The weekend is gonna have to match the intensity of the week in magnitude and seeing the plans thus far, it’s gonna be fuckin’ sweet. True, I have a physical chemistry midterm next week and oh, just about seven papers to read and annotate, but — ah, I’ll be back Sunday.

(Oh, and there’s talk of an Order of Business during Thanksgiving break. Take away the Wild Turkey, who needs it with promises like that?)