Home Anude
So, you take what you can get and feel bitterly about what you can't get, even as you can see its noncompliance acoming. Example the first: I can hang out totally naked in my living room: the room(m)ate is gone to Scotland, en route as I type. Example the second: As I forefeared, she didn't leave a rent check. O, it's not due until the fifth (and yes, the obvious rejoinder is Well why did you ever tell her that the lease said so?) and even if I forget to leave you a check everything will be fine. Well yes Dear but you know I worry so. And also, look at the case: Now you are gone and I am woefully inadequately funded to pay the rent without your own personal dollars that you hoarded to exchange at whatever horribly excruciating low-ass rate for pounds. Lbs., even.
That said, I accomplished a lot today. I
1. Got too scared to go back to sleep this morning.
2. Got some things done that I have to.
3. Called a guy.
4. Went to a meeting.
5. Went to an entirely different type of meeting.
6. Got some more things done that I etc.
7. Went to another meeting, of a realer kind than the last.
8. Got drunk.
Now, those of the Faithful Readers who have never met me before may not understand that I am about to embark on an explanation of these here listed things in some detail. In a word or five, this will be a long thing. To elaborate,
1. I woke up and didn't feel like being awake, but rather felt like smoking, so I did. While smoking in This Very Bathrobe, I absentmindedly rubbed my right arm. And found an unfamiliar and singularly disconcerting Bump.
2. I did pretty much what I said above, and worried some about this god damned class.
3. A guy whose name I've forgotten called me a while ago. Toward the end of january, as I recall it. Anyway, he wanted to talk about the Prudential life insurance policy the parents had on me. So today the stars were just right, such that I both remembered to call him and happened not to have misplaced his number. Also, I was thinking somewhat seriously about the aforementioned Bump.
4. A kid I work with had to present at an Earth and Ocean Sciences meeting. I've known psychologists, psychology majors, even, who were more of scientists than these tool fools. I can't get into it. The subtleties of explaining everything wrong with the situation would frustrate me to the point of typing consequential but random cuss-words, and no one would be none the wiser.
5. I attended a sort of dueling professors match between Drs. Chelsea and Liverpool. For them's as wot's out the know, this "meeting" was a soccer "meet," between the loathesome Chelsea football club and the slightly less despicable Liverpudlians. Toward the end of it, that guy called back, and after running me through the stupid options, he got to the cash-out part. Cha-ching to some extent or other; certainly less an extent than I could put to use. What with the tumor and all.
6. Again with the classwork. Also, and on an unrelated note, those damnable hippies upstairs appear to be Sumo wrestling. This is a talk for another time, here.
7. A supersecret top-secret fraternity meeting. Apparently- but I've said too much.
8. I talked to a pledge for quite a while. He was drinking Smith Wick's, which he refused to pronounce in the correct way. I accidentally got a free beer and then overtipped the tenders out of guilt. Cos I wan't trying to shamshmoozle them at all.
The stagger-wrestling is still going on upstairs. Over the course of the past three minutes, more than twenty bodies have been slammed to the floor. I don't know if they were all the same or different bodies, but I do know what is reasonable conduct at 10:20 at night. This it is not.
A long while ago, my room(m)ate and I wanted to buy guns to shoot. I was telling her last night, as I talked, that it was for the best that we hadn't, I reckoned. For one thing, I would without question, tonight if not earlier, fire systematic shots through our ceiling. Where are people most obviously falling down repeatedly? Bang. Where are the off-tempo bongo sounds coming from? Bang- once for the drums- bang- once for the drummer. Where is the confused mishmash of sonic inconsistencies from Marley to Manson coming from? Bang: stereo's out. And then I would unlock the front door, and lie naked in the living room for Them to take me away, enjoying the frantic last moments of peace.
That said, I accomplished a lot today. I
1. Got too scared to go back to sleep this morning.
2. Got some things done that I have to.
3. Called a guy.
4. Went to a meeting.
5. Went to an entirely different type of meeting.
6. Got some more things done that I etc.
7. Went to another meeting, of a realer kind than the last.
8. Got drunk.
Now, those of the Faithful Readers who have never met me before may not understand that I am about to embark on an explanation of these here listed things in some detail. In a word or five, this will be a long thing. To elaborate,
1. I woke up and didn't feel like being awake, but rather felt like smoking, so I did. While smoking in This Very Bathrobe, I absentmindedly rubbed my right arm. And found an unfamiliar and singularly disconcerting Bump.
2. I did pretty much what I said above, and worried some about this god damned class.
3. A guy whose name I've forgotten called me a while ago. Toward the end of january, as I recall it. Anyway, he wanted to talk about the Prudential life insurance policy the parents had on me. So today the stars were just right, such that I both remembered to call him and happened not to have misplaced his number. Also, I was thinking somewhat seriously about the aforementioned Bump.
4. A kid I work with had to present at an Earth and Ocean Sciences meeting. I've known psychologists, psychology majors, even, who were more of scientists than these tool fools. I can't get into it. The subtleties of explaining everything wrong with the situation would frustrate me to the point of typing consequential but random cuss-words, and no one would be none the wiser.
5. I attended a sort of dueling professors match between Drs. Chelsea and Liverpool. For them's as wot's out the know, this "meeting" was a soccer "meet," between the loathesome Chelsea football club and the slightly less despicable Liverpudlians. Toward the end of it, that guy called back, and after running me through the stupid options, he got to the cash-out part. Cha-ching to some extent or other; certainly less an extent than I could put to use. What with the tumor and all.
6. Again with the classwork. Also, and on an unrelated note, those damnable hippies upstairs appear to be Sumo wrestling. This is a talk for another time, here.
7. A supersecret top-secret fraternity meeting. Apparently- but I've said too much.
8. I talked to a pledge for quite a while. He was drinking Smith Wick's, which he refused to pronounce in the correct way. I accidentally got a free beer and then overtipped the tenders out of guilt. Cos I wan't trying to shamshmoozle them at all.
The stagger-wrestling is still going on upstairs. Over the course of the past three minutes, more than twenty bodies have been slammed to the floor. I don't know if they were all the same or different bodies, but I do know what is reasonable conduct at 10:20 at night. This it is not.
A long while ago, my room(m)ate and I wanted to buy guns to shoot. I was telling her last night, as I talked, that it was for the best that we hadn't, I reckoned. For one thing, I would without question, tonight if not earlier, fire systematic shots through our ceiling. Where are people most obviously falling down repeatedly? Bang. Where are the off-tempo bongo sounds coming from? Bang- once for the drums- bang- once for the drummer. Where is the confused mishmash of sonic inconsistencies from Marley to Manson coming from? Bang: stereo's out. And then I would unlock the front door, and lie naked in the living room for Them to take me away, enjoying the frantic last moments of peace.
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