What an utterly strange weekend.

A pretty good one, as weekends go. I spent most of it over at Jim&Czr's, watching Babylon 5 and lying about like protoplasm. Very relaxing. I read To Dream in the City of Sorrows, which is the newest B5 book, and declared it Not Bad. I had some useful conversations with people. I got nowhere near enough sleep. I ate dim sum. I curled up under blankets.

Now it's Monday. Monday late afternoon, almost time for me to go to class. My mood is weird. It has been weird all weekend, alternating between hyperactively happy (listening to/singing along with Rent in the mornings) and actively melancholy (much of last night, bits of Saturday afternoon). I feel uncentred. I'm glad Earl will be here on Wednesday; Earl grounds me, and I dearly need to be grounded right about now.

The weather has finally become reasonable -- cool, grey, windy, with a hint of actual briskness to the air. Let's hope it continues.

I'm leaving for class in about thirty minutes, so I guess this is a short entry. Book of the moment: Glass Houses by Laura J. Mixon. It's good so far -- not always polished, but it's moving right along and I seem to be moving with it. The blurb on the back cover bills it as Future Noir, which isn't a bad description. So far.