Thank you, life, for this pre-emptive Friday the Thirteenth strike. One narrowly avoided disaster after another. Either all that�s out of the way a few days ahead of time, or I am dutifully prepared for what may well come in fuller force, come the end of the week: PREORDAINED, DESTINY, MAY AS WELL BELIEVE. My alarm, set for seven AM? Did not go off. Left me to wake, through natural causes, less than an hour before my class, fifteen minutes before I had to catch my bus. My printer, dashing off my two page poem, during those fifteen minutes of panicked dressing and page piling, before I literally sprinted as at the Olympics to class? My printer decided the second page of my poem wasn�t pertinent enough to print. Did I notice I only had one copy of my second page before I got to workshop? Yeah, right - I barely had time to see if I was wearing underwear or not. For some reason, the printer�s joke on me was to only print one copy of the second page, which I photocopied thirteen more times during the fifteen minute break in the middle of my three hour class. Photocopied using the fine arts copy machine, after asking the secretary to unlock the door to the copy room. Workshop is a certain breed of time and place: you have to have everything in front of you at all times � being even five minutes late (which, thankfully I wasn�t because of my mad downtown sprinting) is a grave transgression. Not having the two pages of your poem stapled is another BIG NO NO. FORGETTING THE SECOND PAGE OF YOUR POEM AT HOME IS, IN ALL RESPECTS, THE MARK OF A KAMIKAZEE, SUICIDAL LAYABOUT. Thank God my printer was kind enough to grace me with that one copy of the second page. Thank god for the photocopier in the department building. Thank god the bus didn�t leave two minutes early, as it sometimes does. The day can only get better, and much more well written than the rush of this useless, frantic entry. Fantastic. I�m getting myself a NEW ALARM. Today.
I don�t know why, exactly, but THIS has somehow been keeping me sane(ish) throughout this day.
happy North Korea nuclear bomb, everyone. happy poison carrot juice. happy . . . I'm not asking what's next.
Your posts are always funnier when you are angry!
Old Fashioned Morphine makes me nostalgic for English 10, Mr Bobie and the Scopes Monkey Trials...
doesn't it just?!?
that's good enough for meeee.
Posted by: caroline at October 13, 2006 12:53 PMA sad day:
http://licorice-pizza.blogspot.com/2006/10/farewell-cbgb-omfug.html