I brought all my new music to work with me today. Here's what I got.

From J-bird, the following CDs:

Rusty by Rodan. I'm not even sure I like this music. I can't remember. I remember that we listened to it a lot back in the day.
Music for Egon Schiele by Rachel's. Again. Same as above. Maybe it was just a Quarterstick Records thing.
Rain Dogs, Tom Waits. I didn't have it, I wanted it, J-bird comes through. Yeah team!
For the Birds, The Frames. J. thinks I'll like this. He's usually right.

From my fair lady Frances:

Pink Moon by Nick Drake. She pasted to the back of this CD this: "He was tall, very tall, about six foot three. His shoulders were broad and his hips extremely thin. He had an elegant, very masculine body. But he always walked with his shoulders hunched up and he always wore too small shoes. He hated being tall and he hated being broadshouldered - God only knows why..."--Nick's mother, Molly
Frances also made me four tapes and I just love looking at them, looking at their covers. Two of em are full of Steve Earle songs and one of those has a picture of him on the front and I just love him I do and the other has a skull and cross bones on the front and then she also made me two mix tapes and I can't tell you how exciting that fact is. I've mentioned the tapes Frances made for me back a couple of years ago, right? They are just full of all the best music in the best order I ever heard.

Last night I didn't leave class until 10 pm. How in all that is holy did THAT happen? I always try to get us out of there early, get us home to our families. Who wants to be stuck in a computer lab on a desolate campus deep in the evening, deep in the middle of the week?

But it turns out next week IS fall break for that school, which is where all the confusion must have come in.

Further examples of my ditziness: So, I flew to Boston. I flew to Boston at 5pm on a rainy weekday. At 3pm on that day, I was no where near ready. I was frantically packing, petting, cleaning, feeding, showering. I finally get out of the house at 3:40pm. To airport by 4pm. At airport I realize that I still have the key to my house that I was supposed to leave for Frances who is coming to watch Basho. I check in I leave I drive home frantically, I realize I desperately need gas. I drop the key in the mailbox I pet Bash one last time I race back to the airport, thinking that I'm just about to run out of gas the whole time and then I can't find any long term parking but then I do and I run to my gate and arrive just in time to smoothly take my seat.

Was that a boring story? I think that was a boring story. I get tired of telling stories right when I'm in the middle of them. I poop out and I don't care anymore. Maybe this is what people consider a lack of confidence? When really I just have a very short conversational attention span.

Man. Looking at this poem, called "Headed West," by some kid in TK's class. It's great. It's just really great. I wish I taught this class. Poetry Workshop. It sends shivers over my skin just to imagine teaching it. I shouldn't teach literature but I think I should teach writing. I'm the only one I know who prefers teaching composition to literature. I just don't like to talk about reading and thinking this way, the way it seems I've got to in these classes.

This is how "Headed West" ends:

They gave the navajo dry yellow-brown desert.
Elect Joe Shirley Jr. Navajo Nation President.
Lotaburger.
666
Chainsaw city.
Jesus is lord over Gallup.

Two of the other poems, the first two, end this way:

You would become my best friend.

He's just being a good friend.

I'm such a jerk.

I want to unplug everything forever and ever and just walk to wherever I need to go and just throw out the truck and throw out the keys and just throw out the papers, all the fucking papers, the bills the id's the ads the news the letters the poems, and throw out all the machines and then go for a walk, a year long walk, with the dog. We would walk everywhere and we would wash in parasitic waters and we would eat what you give us. I have a sleeping bag. I could do it, you know.