A rather charming girl in Portland sent me a letter where she addresses me as "Charles", a name she says she chose at random. She signed it "Caroline"--- another Brideshead-era literary name. I do like that. I must write her back soon.

Though my Official Japanese Name is and remains Eduardo de Guzman...of the Hokkaido de Guzmans.

There was a time when I believed that all Girlfriends were ex officio named Stormont--- after a castle in Belfast. (And, no: Jilly at coco__, herself Ulster patricianate, never commented on that) Stormont does make a good Official Girlfriend Name. I only wish that I had someone to be my own Stormont.

Ex officio, yes. All Girlfriends are ex officio named Stormont, just as all Small Messenger Capybaras are named Ferdinand and all small beagles are named Frederick.

And I do remember the days when the new regulations and passports were issued, when everyone--- almost everyone ---was re-named Noboru Watanabe. I showed the Small Pika my own passport, still with "Eduardo de Guzman" in kanji and katakana, and she just sniffed, "All you Ezo boys just have to be different, don't you?" Well, she is an Osaka girl, there at Club Evil Badger. And I do remain an Ezo kid, raised there at De Guzman House on Hakodate harbour.

Last night I did watch "Medicine for Melancholy"--- a nicely-done little film. Good indie romance. Something I will recommend to Miss Ginny at ginny_mccoo. I know it was a film she'd been interested in back in late spring, and one recommended to her by Lissy at emigree, who saw it at a film festival in Baltimore last fall.

Tiffany at vanity_overkill keeps reminding me to remind her to tell me a mysterious set of Stories about Events in Providence. I'll have to text her back about that. Tiffany has a very wicked sense of humour--- and good legs. I do want to hear her Stories. Right now I could use a late night with a lovely girl's voice telling me Stories across the aether.

Ms. Chang tells me that she spent the day in the Slavic Lit department at Princeton, talking with faculty and getting a feel for what grad school might be like there. In the end, she wasn't too taken with Princeton. Loved the architecture, impressed with the intellectual quality of the faculty. The weather and departmental attitudes...not so much. She found Princeton a bit insular, and four years at Rochester gave her all the cold weather she wants for a while. And Princeton, she tells me, doesn't do all that well at training its Slavic Lit grads for the marketing part of getting hired in academia. Not a lot of attention to showing grad students how to get published and how to sell themselves. So...she's leaning toward Stanford. Good department, great climate, close to San Francisco, lots of attention to getting its young Russian Lit grad students into print and up onto conference stages. She's a West Coast girl, she thinks. Or at least a NoCal girl. I'm an East Coast type--- a Manhattan type. (Well--- always a Hokkaido kid, too) Still--- I do want her to get money and placement at Stanford and do well. She certainly has the intellect and the drive for an academic career. (And her Russian is reputed to be first-rate.)

I do have to ask Miss Ginny when she'll be defending her doctoral thesis and what her immediate postdoc plans are. Will she be looking immediately for teaching posts? Travel? Miss Ginny is a Montreal girl--- will she try Vancouver or somewhere in the States for a while? London?

I have "Filth & Wisdom" on the Netflix queue... We'll have to see. No Halloween films on hand, really. I do have "Disturbia" here, but that's because I share Miss Ginny's crush on Sarah Roemer. If I feel Halloween-like, I can always watch my own DVDs of "The Exorcist" or "Audition". Though I'd probably rather watch Sarah Roemer in a bikini... And I'd definitely rather watch Ms. Roemer with Miss Ginny curled up next to me with a bottle of pinot noir.

The Vanished Laura-Ashlee at bladeoftheknife told me once that she's always been someone who'd wake up in the middle of the night and just look down and watch her lovers sleeping. If ever they'd wake up and find her there and ask what she was doing she'd say, "Just...looking." Which could be creepy, I suppose, given her intonation. I'm not one to watch girls sleep--- or not like that. When I'm with a lover, I'll often get up very early and just be happy they're there. Go make coffee--- I'll do that, yes. The last lover I was with...I had to get up here to get ready for work. But there on the Skinny Island, I remember watching dawn over E. 17th St. while she slept in our hotel bed. I liked watching the grey turn blue and then sun-gold around her. Girls who have watched me sleep...hmmm. Constanza long ago said that I looked like "a Spanish crucifixion painting" when I slept. Could I have been that tense (or intense) in those days? Much later, the Evil Dana-Lynn and then Elizabeth-Claire always said I looked happy and child-like while sleeping. Well, I try to be a good little long-eared desert (or dessert) hedgehog. I've no idea what a girl would think of me in sleep mode these days. Though I do wish I had a lovely gentle companion to curl into at night. I could name the girls I wish were spooned into me on autumn nights, but the names are mostly obvious. And I do have an Obsession en titre, after all.

I've read Rilke and Wallace Stevens and Eliot and Cavafy and Leonard Cohen to girls in bed. Never Rumi. I'll probably keep it that way. I like Rumi and Hafez, true--- but I'd be afraid of being cloying or a bit de trop.

Miss Ginny is a Yeats fan, I know. I do wonder what she's read aloud to lovers...

I really do wonder what was in the comment Lissy at emigree seems to have left for me at GoodReads...

I will miss Nela at steeping. One more voice gone suddenly silent, and a gentle, kind voice who will be missed.

Sometimes late at night I do almost want to plead for Voices and messages about books and ideas. I miss talking about those things, and I miss believing that I had lovely clever friends-and-correspondents who'd find me worth something. I miss being able to have long and baroque conversations late at night. I miss that more than I miss having a Stormont. I miss being part of an ongoing conversation.