There are days when I remember and rekindle my love of PJ Harvey. Today is one of those for a few reasons:
1. It is grey. It is cold. The wind is back and reminding me that I am an idiot for not locating my gloves yet. And above all, it is full-on dark at 5.45pm. Has been for nearly an hour.
2. I am in the library. I approach the library with mixed feelings, and debate giving this its own post. Right now, I am in my own private cubby, sitting on my feet of course and propped up enough to glimpse lights out the window next to this cubby. On my immediate right, the stacks. I look at these stacks and feel oddly comforted. On the other hand, behind me, two boys are debating the correct way to break down 3 x 4/3(pi). Even as I am thrust back to the comfort of my undergrad experience by the stacks, I am relieved by my exemption from it, from a world of boys who talk loudly in the library.
3. I am researching revision. If there were no PJ Harvey, I would be sleeping right now. Seriously, forcibly put to sleep by journals like "College English" and "Computers and Composition."
PJ Harvey is a little dark, a little soothing and a little scary all at the same time. She is pissed off and also condescending. She is, above all, in total control. So here I am, surrounded by too much work and not enough desire or time to finish it all. But it doesn't matter. Does PJ Harvey ever get the guy? Does he ever send his love to her? Probably not. But who cares?