Ariel like a harpy

Happiness is strange, isn't it? The world is unfeeling, vicious, and liable to crush you like an iceberg, but then you find yourself happy hanging out in a Tim Hortons. Duncan and his friend April are a lot cooler than I thought. We sat around and April tried out things to play for Mirabell. Mirabell wouldn't know Stuart-era music if it mugged him, so I told April to just go for more of the television themes. I lent her Arne's cd set of themes.
This morning I called Enid and told her about Ed coming back for the summer, She agreed that she couldn't see why he'd come back to Milborough if he had been in Kingston all year. I told her that the idea of the breakup wasn't bad, since our relationship was going nowhere, but the fact that he did it in a letter, with a poem that he thought was an ode but didn't have anything resembling the line scheme, was really tacky. "He'd played on my feelings enough, but that really was the last straw," I told Enid. Enid agreed that the whole thing was doomed, since he was in Kingston and I was here, and 15, and better at English than he was. She said she liked Duncan better, anyway, and the fact that he was a musician was much cooler.