This is NOT Over

Friday September 22, 1989 The Importance of Smoking Correctly

Took my numbers test at 9:00am *****eek. But I kicked its ass. It is always fun to have a positive testing experience. Had breakfast w/ C-1ers this morning. Whoa. George helped me get ready for my POLS test. I needed the help, and it led to the successful ass kicking described above….

Saw D at breakfast. I like her but nothing’s gonna happen. Nothing better happen. She’s like two years younger than me. When I’m ninety-eight, she’ll only be…oh, you’ve heard that joke before.

I was in a good mood for most of today even though I was dead tired. I need some peaceful nap time. New comics today. Do I dare drag my tired ass to Northern Lights? I do – and I did.

Started a new thing with WTG today. Stopped not long after starting. This is beginning to look like another one of those exercises meant to remind me that I’m not a real writer. Whether it is lack of talent, discipline or inspiration I’m not sure but one thing I am sure of is that there is a distance between me and the ability to write anything worth a damn. Maybe that’s the beginning of something but I’m not in a position to know…yet.

I’ve been sloth-like for most of the day. Went to all my classes. That’s how sad of a day it was. Did I just say I was in a good mood? Finally getting some ideas for the expanded fB thing but I don’t think it’s gonna happen. Ideas roaring through my skull. No one wants to play with me. I guess Cousin Mike and I still have our “band”. I miss Cousin Mike. Miss Cousin Mike? What? Did he go to Sweden?

Smoked 50 fucking thousand cigs with Jen-O and Jeanz in the lobby. They laughed as I told them about the “butter churners” conversation from the other day. Then Jen got serious and asked if I was going to find another class or just fuck around and take nine hours again.

I’m sort of leaning towards the latter option. She left for some talk on the POLS floor but as she was going she told me I should try to get into her favorite professor’s class.

I asked her how many books were required. She said there was only one book, then helped herself to not one but two of my Chesterfields.

I said, “What the fuck?”

She said, “You don’t even smoke them correctly.”

I said, “That may be true but they are mine.”

…and she was gone.