Everyone says I love you

Today there was a 'closeness and seduction' workshop with Relief Theatre, led by the incorrigible Rachel Bussom and Kirstyn Petras. I shouldn't really have gone, because my degree counts now etc., but it was an awful lot of fun. We started off with 'seductive ninjas', which is like normal ninjas but you make an awkward noise whenever you move: Kirstyn went for squeaks, Rachel for moans and I blurted out a serious of increasingly questionable statements that could or could not be interpreted in the wrong way. Though Adam won with 'Boom, headshot', just as he knocked an opponent out of the running.
The actual workshop itself consisted of variations upon telling your workshop partner that you loved them- either emotionally, physically or platonically- either through eye contact, physical contact or by just repeating the phrase 'I love you' to the point of inanity and back. My partner for these exercises was Emily Ingram, who's playing the Witch of the West in the upcoming production of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, and who I now feel I know more thoroughly than anyone else in the cast. Especially since we decided to express physical desire without any words, which led to interesting positioning.

The Logic in Current Issues in Semantics and Pragmatics is starting to thicken, and I think I understand it as long as I keep it in my peripheral vision, but when I actually put it into focus it slips like sand through a sieve.

Speaking of uni, Poppy and I have begun to study together again, which is nice because it means that I get at least some work done. However, studying with Poppy does inevitably devolve into some looking at artworks online, telling each other irritating things about our dissertation as well as our excuses for not having done more, discussing interesting places we'd like to go, and staring at this photo:

which, I must admit, is one of the greatest things in all creation.

And, finally, I seem to have carved my immortal niche on Mother Bedlam by fusing the café door shut- I maintain that I just slid the lock shut, but it seems to have become stuck like that for all eternity. I like to think that, in generations to come, curious little Freshers will ask why one has to climb into the café from over the counter, and the fourth years will sit them down on their knee and tell the all about Uncle Rory...