2002-12-04 - 11:17 a.m.

Last night I came home to discover that my ceiling looked like a distended, stained belly and was leaking water onto my bookshelf. I naturally launched into one of my trademark expletive-laced tirades, until I calmed down enough to call the landlord. I then paced around helplessly until my roommate helped me move my books out of harm's way; strangely, only the James Joyce books got wet, and they were on the shelf second from the one that bore the brunt of the water (my plant conveniently drank up most of it).

I think it's a sign that I should finally finish Ulysses.

say what? - mas y mas!

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