Den ganzen Tag über Dinge aufgeregt, die außerhalb meines Kontrollbereichs liegen.

Mich darüber aufgeregt, dass ich mich aufrege.

Mich dann darüber aufgeregt, dass ich darüber NICHT MAL BLOGGEN KANN.

Um Punkt 18 Uhr ein Bier geöffnet. #tgif

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Im Telefonat mit Lektorgirl (was schön war: Telefonat mit Lektorgirl) immerhin festgestellt, dass ich jetzt andere Strategien habe, um mit Aufregescheiß zurechtzukommen. Vor dem Studium blieben mir nur erhöhter Weißweinkonsum und viele, viele Serienboxen. Heute kann ich mich irgendwann, wenn der Blutdruck wieder unten ist, zurücklehnen und mir sagen: Am Wochenende warten alle Lesesäle Münchens auf dich, in die du wunderschöne Bücher trägst und wo du dich mit was Anständigem beschäftigst.

Das tat ganz gut. Wobei ich den Allheilmitteln Alkohol und Seriengucken niemals abschwören werde.

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Mit F. Fußball geguckt und dazu Lieblingschips geknabbert. Gemeinsam eingeschlafen. Leider wegen Aufregescheiß mehrfach aufgewacht und irgendwann um 3 Uhr morgens das Internet leergelesen.

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The Strange and Twisted Life of „Frankenstein“

Ich glaube, ich muss das Ding doch mal lesen. Diesen Artikel zur Entstehung des Buchs fand ich jedenfalls schon mal sehr spannend.

„Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin was fifteen years old when she met Percy Bysshe Shelley, in 1812. He was twenty, and married, with a pregnant wife. Having been thrown out of Oxford for his atheism and disowned by his father, Shelley had sought out William Godwin, his intellectual hero, as a surrogate father. Shelley and Godwin fille spent their illicit courtship, as much Romanticism as romance, passionately reading the works of her parents while reclining on Wollstonecraft’s grave, in the St. Pancras churchyard. “Go to the tomb and read,” she wrote in her diary. “Go with Shelley to the churchyard.” Plainly, they were doing more than reading, because she was pregnant when she ran away with him, fleeing her father’s house in the half-light of night, along with her stepsister, Claire Clairmont, who wanted to be ruined, too.

If any man served as an inspiration for Victor Frankenstein, it was Lord Byron, who followed his imagination, indulged his passions, and abandoned his children. He was “mad, bad, and dangerous to know,” as one of his lovers pronounced, mainly because of his many affairs, which likely included sleeping with his half sister, Augusta Leigh. […]

In the spring of 1816, Byron, fleeing scandal, left England for Geneva, and it was there that he met up with Percy Shelley, Mary Godwin, and Claire Clairmont. Moralizers called them the League of Incest. By summer, Clairmont was pregnant by Byron. Byron was bored. One evening, he announced, “We will each write a ghost story.” Godwin began the story that would become “Frankenstein.” Byron later wrote, “Methinks it is a wonderful book for a girl of nineteen—not nineteen, indeed, at that time.”“