behind on my work, sleep, and caffeine and it's only day 1.
i actually made the organizational meeting. rode bike. sweaty. felt very business-like and much alone. and the welcome meeting felt like summer camp. people applauded. there are like six people who aren't privileged white. the waifs are still waifs even if they're pregnant, with perhaps more eyeliner and guts to say they like jtleroy. i stuck around for the photo session which will forever link me to this institution, and scrammed.
blew off the crazy boy yesterday, who left me another 10 messages asking me out to dinner and telling me he was taking a nap. did not return his phone calls, and now i think he's hurt. he did not come to the meeting, and said he is not coming to class.
what can i do? now all time is my precious time.
last night i did laundry and tried to study at g's house, but after swimming laps and taking some nighttime sudafed for the allergic reaction i'm having to prairie, and then a beer to calm down around g, i passed out on her couch. so much for preparing myself.
ah, rapturous relief.
some of my favorite and least favorite people are in my wkshp -- and the favorite make all the difference. two with whom i've always wanted to be in class. yay! one, the straight butch, the one who has been studying falconry and divining water (pant pant), turns up everywhere and smiles. at me!
s, e's husband, is in the class. but e isn't. whew.
a minute ago i was pedaling up a steep hill in the humid sun, dripping, a chipmunk dives into a hole and someone's cell phone plays hava na gila and i realize suddenly my bike is going the wrong way, i mean down, backwards, leftover lunch falls out of my bag and i nearly fall into the arms of a sweaty disabled dude with a cane.
i'm having an audition. what shall i sing?
i'm glad i didn't share what i'm listening to. what would the poets say to heart, missy?
beats the sorority chicklets in bikinis with garden hoses outside the residence halls. notes to self during class: stop staring at tits and their
latina pussy.
surprised by how many famous readers are coming this year. and so far no major pretensions except from the few i've alluded to already. this is good. beer in the afternoon, and fly-by-night syllabi, cold showers, yoga, jogs through the neighboring cemetery, and amorous circling nearer and nearer on my purple mountain bike to where the butch is. did i tell you she's a cop? maybe i should just try to get arrested.
Posted at 07:21 am by embers
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