Oh lord. Oh lord oh lord oh lord. I keep thinking, I'm back from the wars. But. But but but--the week keeps STARTING OVER. Who thought of this fucking system? Where the weeks keep going on, over and over? I'm exhausted, you see. I'm pretty got-damn (say it like that) sure I have never laid myself open for such an extended period of time. All day yesterday, Wednesday, the day when all the gods open their bowels and shit on me. I worked from 7:30 am until 8:30 pm (which means leaving the house at 6:30 am and returning at 9:30 pm) and that doesn't begin to cover it. Working that long would be fine, if you weren't churning the whole time. Teaching and planning and teaching and planning. Turned me into a zombie. I'm just coming out of it.

I'm planning a speech for one class tomorrow. The speech about being and existing in your own life for fuck's sake speech. I can't live this way, you see. Flaying myself every day, trying to tap dance my way into their consciousness and them, just sleeping through class. It's intolerable. They MUST AT LEAST BE AWAKE. I don't care if they are dumb as a stump. I'm dumb as a stump. Currently. Nevermind, nothing to see here. Move along.

Truth be told? I'm a little bit drunk rightthissecond. Jesus christ, after a fifteen hour day, 13 of which spent seriously thinking and talking and writing? I wanted to shoot meself this morning. I told my-darling-most-dear-Jeff-who-is-wonderful-beyond-description how, exactly, I would off a few of these little fuckers. Today I'm left with a shell of myself. What the hell was I thinking?

I was thinking about the money and the time off.

Still am, those are the only things keeping me moving forward--those things and embarrassment. I don't want to be failure, don't want to let people down. So I move forward and I lose a bit of myself to the goddamned masses each day.

Ok, so there's one class I love. It's the only class I'm teaching only one section of, alas. But they are charming and dorky and I adore them. They can't stop talking in class, which is my favorite.

Lord, I'm tired.

Is there anything else in life but my fucking job?

Brother Dan and Girlfriend Allison came for a spell last weekend. I dreaded their visit, but it turned out excellently. Jeff and Dan talked about movies (Kurosawa and Jarmusch) and music (regae) and art (Sally Mann and others) and got along tremendously. Allison (who is cool and nice and a former team-rower) rowed us down the shallow in the extreme, Deep River, with Jeff helping (out of the water, walking, pushing the damned canoe) and they were charming and lovely. Godblessem.

I'm beat. Life is hard when you have to work. Jeff and I keep saying to one another: one year. ONE YEAR.

We'll see.