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2002-12-11 - 11:50 a.m. |
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Oh blah. BLAH. I hate everything. I hate that today is Wednesday and that means that I have to go to class tonight and leave old Bash forsaken and I hate that one of my students went to my boss down there because she wants an extension on her paper and she never even asked me if I would give her one and I hate that my boss gave her the extension without consulting me and I hate that I have so much grading to do before the week is out and I hate that I haven�t even starting that grading and I hate this cold and I hate that drip dropping rain and I hate my truck and I hate how tired I am and I hate heaters and I hate cigarettes and I hate that I have no time to make all the presents I planned to make and I hate that I'm hungry and thirsty and I hate coffee late at night and I hate the incessent dark of winter. Fuck this and fuck that, fuck this, fuck that. Things outside the realm of everything: Item the first. Sarah Lindsay. She seemed so nervous and quiet in the loud bookstore and I wanted to crawl right under the table where she stood to read her poems and I wanted to curl myself into a ball and I wanted to shut my eyes so that all I could see in the wide uncaring and loud and commercial world would be her voice and her poems and how she hushed her voice a little bit when she said sex and how she made up islands and archeology and wrote caiman and wrote tapir and wrote the names of made-up gods and the names of pretend flowers and the names of imagined discoveries and wondered myths. I hate the new guy who isn�t so new anymore. I don�t want to hear him talking about peanut brittle. Idiot. He just told a story about, and I quote, "when I was first started courting my wife." Shut up new guy. I hate that I am such a jerk. I hate that Oliver called me up in despair last night because he can�t find a plane ticket home for under $1200 because he waited too long and I hate that I looked this morning and found plenty of tickets under $500 and I hate that his email isn�t working so that I can tell him. I hate that Dan is NOT coming home. He�s my family posse and he�s not coming home for Christmas. Goddamnit. What else? I hate the interminable mess of my life and the fake things that worry me so: money and papers money and papers. I hate that my boss at RCC just sent me the syllabus for the class I�m teaching in the spring and all I have to do is fill in the blanks. Name. Email. Office hours. I hate that I can�t be with Bashi right now. I need him. Time is a hard master this week. Time and money and my lazy lazy bones. Help me. I think I�m falling. |
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