hello darlings, i realise i have neglected the class blog muchly over the past weeks. but then i had nothing to post.

(actually, i still have nothing to post.)

hm i stumbled across this, which is from a long time ago, and about that show with tinky-winky, dipsy, lala and po. i can't remember the name of the show. ;p
"We assure the parents of the world that your children will not become gay due to the subsersive effects of the colour purple, triangles, or magic bags." (David Smith, gay rights activist, on Tinky-Winky)
okay, so it struck me as drily amusing at the time.

in other news: pay up class funds, for those who haven't yet done so, or who have paid up incompletely! -_-

/to the lighthouse/ (virginia woolf) is brilliant, especially the middle bit where time passes, despite it being hard to read especially at the start, and despite each page being a veritable wall of words. i shall quote:

As summer neared, as the evenings lengthened, there came to the wakeful, the hopeful, walking the beach, stirring the pool, imaginations of the strangest kind--of flesh turned to atoms which drove before the wind, of stars flashing in their hearts, of cliff, sea, cloud and sky brought purposely together to assemble outwardly the scattered parts of the vision within. In those mirrors, the minds of men, in those pools of uneasy water, in which clouds for ever turn and shadows form, dreams persisted, and it was impossible to resist the strange intimation which every gull, flower, tree, man and woman, and the white earth itself seemed to declare (but if questioned at once to withdraw) that good triumphs, happiness prevails, order rules; or to resist the extraordinary stimulus to range hither and thither in search of some absolute good, some crystal of intensity, remote from the known pleasures and familiar virtues, something alien to the processes of domestic life, single, hard, bright, like a diamond in the sand, which would render the possessor secure. Moreover, softened and acquiescent, the spring with her bees humming and gnats dancing threw her cloak about her, veiled her eyes, averted her head, and among passing shadows and flights of small rain seemed to have taken upon her a knowledge of the sorrows of mankind.

i'm not sure if it's exactly beautiful and lyrical in the way that fitzgerald was beautiful and lyrical but there's something about it.
and incidentally--i don't really understand the book, especially the individual bits, but ah well. good read. =)