moleskines and macarons

Ahh... I love having a good day after a series of bad ones. Specifically, I love being able to speak like a normal person again. For the last two days I have been incapable of conducting normal conversations due to lack of sleep and sinus pain. Previous conversations have gone like this:
Man: "So are you doing reception work here now?"
Me: "Yeah...... yeah......................................yeah. Um... I'm just......... working.... on Tuesdays. Here. For. Reception. Yeah."
Man: "Oh okay, it looks like it would be a nice job"
Me: "Yeah... I'm just......... learning.... how things work. Now. Yeah"
Man: "Okay. Well, I'm Steve."
Me: "N-n-nice to meet you."

OR:

Jessie: "Is your new ramen nice?"
Me: "Hm???"
Jessie: "Your ramen."
Me: COMPLETE AND UTTER BLANK FACE OF INCOMPREHENSION.
Jessie: Points subtly to bowl of ramen.
Me: "OH! Ramen! Right! Yes, yes, good, yes!"

Worst. However, I do recall a certain conversation myself and Mykill had the other day that went something like this:
Me: "I had my first day at work today. It was pretty good."
Mykill: "Oh really? I mean, was it good, yes, no, I mean you said it was good, but yeah, so it was good, yes, no, yes??? AH-HULG-HULG-HULG."

The "hulg" implies jolting laughter. So it was not just me.
But anyway. I had a pretty good day today, starting with a flute lesson with my new flute teacher at uni. My new flute teacher happens to be a large, jovial american man with a beard who is very cool and very nice. This is him telling me about breathing:
"So, I just think the diaphragm is so cool, it's my favourite muscle, I mean, well, my favourite muscle is the bicep on everyone - men, women - because we can pick up such HUGE things and I mean, whoever built us, they must be pretty cool."
Best. BEST. Best.
After this I went to Borders to pick up the new Frankie (many Benjamin Law articles, many Mia Timpano articles, best), and went up to the counter to pay and was flirted with in an abstract, and confusing manner by the boy serving me (but, yes, MyKill, I still love you more.)
Anyway. And then I came home and read and got angry with my university for not rearranging my course for me, and then I gave up and ate and read some more. And tonight I am playing in a Gypsy orchestra. Wonderful!
Anyway. The above pictures are mostly things I find pretty today, see: hot air balloons, flutes, Ken Vasoli in full musical and hobbit-like flight, moleskine diaries, Michel Gondry films, macarons, Paris, Izima Kaoru photos and, oh dear, is that Gilles Simon, how did that get in there? Excuse me.
And to finish, here is a nice poem called Knee Song, which I love:

Being kissed on the back
of the knee is a moth
at the windowscreen and
yes my darling a dot
on the fathometer is
tinkerbelle with her cough
and twice I will give up my
honor and stars will stick
like tacks in the night
yes oh yes yes yes two
little snails at the back
of the knee building bon-
fires something like eye-
lashes something two zippos
striking yes yes yes small
and me maker.

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